Front Yard Fire
... My dad originally tried to stomp out the small fire like an Indian doing a ritual dance. Even with all his effort, the fire was getting out of control. He yelled at me to go get my mom who was in the house cleaning. I darted back and forth between the trees down the path through the woods to my house. I bolted in the house and started exclaiming the events that were unfolding before I even laid eyes on my mom. She came out of the living room with, her face full of surprise. She ordered me to grab rakes and shovels and bring them out to the fire. I filled my arms with two rakes and a shovel and sprinted back to the fire. I could feel the heat before I even saw the flames. My dad took a rake from me and started to separate some of the dry brush from the fire. My mom had finally come out to the scene and started to do the same as I beat the flames with the shovel. It was obvious that our effort to extinguish the flames were not working. My mom then told me to try to get the garden hose as close to the fire as possible and fill buckets to carry the water the rest of the way. Even after I completed that task and dumped half a dozen buckets of water on the end of the inferno, it was clear the fire was too out of control for us to handle. My mom also came to this realization. She yelled to me from across the flames. Her image was distorted from the intense heat. She told me to go back to the house and call the fire department. Again, I whizzed through the forest path to my house. Before I picked up the phone I took a moment to compose myself. I then dialed the infamous 9-1-1. A woman on the other end of the phone answered and asked me what my emergency was. I explained to her the events that had unfolded. I then followed to give her my address and directions to my house. Worried about how my family was far...