ABurningWish

By Omar Daken

Several horrible, blistering hours in this forest; no way to get out.

Paris, France: One second, a beautiful, prosperous city.

The next, a feast for a horrible forest fire.

My grandmother and I were just going for a brisk hike in the forest when it happened: The forest fire that engulfed Paris. For the past week, there had been a scorching heatwave, and for the longest time, I had to be home where there is no air conditioning to stay by my elderly grandmother’s side. That is, until that fateful Saturday morning. It was as hot as a freshly fried crêpe, so I decided to take my grandmother for a stroll in the crisp green forest of Rambouillet, known for its stunning hiking trails and fresh greenery. She agreed, and after a 10-minute drive, we parked in a tiny clearing in front of the towering trees of the huge forest. We had just started walking on the trail when I smelled a whiff of smoke. I looked around, but there was no fire in sight.

“Hmm, someone must be grilling in one of the cabins nearby,” I thought.

Soon, I would realize how mistaken I was.

We strode a short distance longer. We had just sat down on a log sprinkled with pale white mushrooms, when I caught something with the corner of my eye. Flames. Flames coming at us like cheetahs, chasing down their favorite meal. In the blink of an eye, the forest transformed from tame to absolutely wild. The bright flames licked the trees and shrubs around us.

I jumped to my feet and started scurrying away like a mouse, hauling my grandmother along with me. I sprinted, holding on to life, and didn’t look back. I was swimming in sweat. I put my grandmother down, and as if on cue, the flames created a ring around her.

The cheetahs had caught their prey.

The next moments passed by at the speed of light. The flames rose up to the sky, creating a barred gate of pure fire. It was too high to jump over. I darted away, tears swelling in my eyes, just as a flame almost caught the hem of my shirt. I ran, and ran, and ran, not daring to look back to see just how close the fire was to me. At last, I found the mouth of a cave. I leaped in, went as deep into it as space allowed, and sat there. I broke down. I had been too focused on escaping the fire, my emotions were the least of my concerns. But now, I was wailing and weeping like a child; choking on grief, anger, and exhaustion. I felt guilty for not going into the fire to save my grandmother, though deep inside, I knew I could not have gone through that gate of inevitable death without burning myself. I was boiling mad at those flames that stripped me of someone I cared about so much. I shakily got to my feet, then walked to the cave mouth and started yelling for my grandmother, in vain hope of her being able to respond.

The only answer I got was the crackling of burning trees. I sat there in that cave, hugging my knees close to my chest while reciting these words time and time again:

I wish for this fire to subside.

I wish for your warm embrace, Grandma.

I wish for home.