Late Call

By: Cynthia Tillett (Me)

We arrive on scene,

flames rolling out the roof and third floor windows.

A feeling of fear and excitement overcomes me.

I am doing what I was trained to do.

I stand with the knob in my hand looking, looking for someone to back me up.

They come and I open the knob,

One hundred and twenty pounds of pressure,

push me back, throw me back.

I loose my balance and my partner steedys me.

We stabilize and continue to extinguish the flaming inferno.

Suddenly a cry silences us,

ten foot flames rolling out the front door;

my partner and I run, line in hand hell bound for the front door.

We arrive and drop the line, don our masks and prepare to go in.

As we advance the line into the flame consumed building

nothing enters my mind; I am there to do my job.

There are flames over our heads, like hundred of rolling barrels.

The whole floor above us is on fire.

The intense heat pushes us to the floor.

We inch closer and closer to the flaming steps.

I crank the knob on and begin to extinguish what I can...

The fire is getting the best of us.

The Mayday siren wails outside, it's time to get out.

As we get outside and away from the building

we can see that the second and third floor are now completely engulfed in flames.

The only way to fight this fire is from the exterior now.

We battle the blaze for hours,

families stand around holding each other,

looking at the rubble that used to be their home.

After we pack up our equipment we head to the station.

When we get there we hang our gear to dry in silence.

Then we all go home too our families.

Lying in bed, not knowing if we almost didn't make it home.

We live to see another day.

We fight what you fear,

We are firefighters!

(I wrote this in high school for an English project, I was GREEN then so please understand and be kind.)