I WAS THERE, in the smoke-filled air, coughing and spluttering.
It felt hard to breathe. Dry grass, fallen logs and weeds of all kinds, all kindling for the beast of flames that consumed Mt Lindsay. Sirens blasting in my ears, sounds and smells around me I have never heard and smelt before.
The only smell familiar is the smell of Mum and Dad. Looking around all I see Is dust.
My heart dropped as I saw Mt Lindsay. That flaming beast had been consumed by the unstoppable fire-breathing dragon that menacingly circled our villages and homes.