Sparks Will Fly by JC Bateman
Our television broadcasts the latest news about fires sweeping across the hills, along with evacuation notices. Footage follows a couple of helicopters scooping water from the ocean, but I’m not paying much attention.
“Honey! We are safe here, aren’t we?” Calling out to him, although more to myself than anything – there’s no response. Shrugging, I head towards the dining room and watch our five-year-old daughter spinning and twirling in the garden. Arms out wide, she giggles with glee.
“Mommy, look. The faeries are dancing with me.”
“That’s so cute, honey!” Nancy is a soft-hearted soul with the wildest of imaginations. Garden lights twinkle in the rustling trees. Stepping closer to the patio doors, I gaze out across the valley and towards the ocean.
“Honey…” I twist to greet my husband’s sweaty face, “Are you cooking? Something’s burning.” He grabs the remote and turns the TV up. I immediately scan the garden for Nancy.
An ear-splitting screech slices through the quiet.
“Mommy, mommy! The faery bit me. It bit me, mommy. Naughty faerie.” She chides, trying to smack them. Squinting and scrutinising these ‘faeries’ – my breath mists the pane of glass between us.
“Honey!” I holler, “Grab the baby, we need to go… NOW!” My skin bristles with goosebumps. Miles appears with a sleepy Connie in his arms – way ahead of me with a roughly packed duffle bag.
“I grabbed what I could.”
“Fluffy-butt. Fluffy-butt!” Nancy wails.
“There’s no time, sweetpea.” Miles scoops her up. She screams louder and wriggles in his arms. Ignoring his protests, I make a frantic grab for things, leaving Miles to bundle the girls into the car. I can hear Nancy crying for the damn kitten. Backing the car out of the garage, he beeps the horn.
Sparks spray across the lawn. Miles attacks the horn with fierce urgency. Fluffy-butt swipes my ankle from under the sofa and retreats. Not now!
“Daddy, more faeries,” Nancy says, pointing.
Leaving the house, I grabbed Fluffy-butt and then tripped down the front steps and into the car.
Darkening smoke swallows the yellow sky. Backing down our driveway, away from our home – we join fleeing neighbours and the unknown.
JC Bateman – aka Jackie was born in Cape Town, South Africa and now resides in Oxfordshire, UK. She works part-time in a Primary School and has been a member of the Banbury Writers’ Cafe since early 2018. A lover of writing, reading, Rugby, Ice Hockey and music, as well as being an avid penpaller – she is working on her first novel.
Image courtesy of Nicole Coleman – @nicolehc06
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