It Starts
Contributor
Written by
Peg Gotthold
September 2010
Contributor
Written by
Peg Gotthold
September 2010
The sirens sang out to the quiet night moon. The Depot was ablaze. The firefighters aroused from sleep and now running on adrenaline laid out the hoses and spanner wrenched the hydrants. At least there were no apartments in the building. When the building across the street went up, the squeals of college students trying to bundle up tee shirts and jeans pierced the night. This one was bad. Too much orange glow. Morning light exposed the dripping body. The next shift of volunteers busied themselves with rolling up the hoses and mopping up the puddles on the sidewalk. Back at the fire officer’s conference table, the photos of fire scene gawkers were tossed between grimy coffee mugs. Too many buildings had been lost to arson and most of them were commercial enterprises. This initial look-see was only for the faces of the usual suspects. The Inspector’s crew would start the formal investigation once the cinders cooled off. And so the Depot sat for several months with a gaping black hole in its side. It snowed into the hole. Water froze and expanded the wood fibers. Driving rain fed the mold spores lurking under long, pealing wallpaper chads. Nobody care enough to snuggle the building with a tarp. And so the Depot sat abandoned as shoppers walked past, clucking their tongues at the eyesore.

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  • Mary Ann Marshall

    Hi Peg:
    I really like this! You're a very good writer. I saw that you excel in providing critiques for book proposals. I am working on my book proposal for my memoir, which is about my relationships with exes. Would you have time to critique it? I will of course take a look at your work as well--care to exchange for mutual benefit? Warmly, Mary Ann