Burning desire

 I decided to write a piece about The Great fire of London because this week was its anniversary. I noticed that people seemed to enjoy when I personified clothes so I thought, what if I personified a fire?  This is the finished result. Enjoy! 😄

Picture painted by Matthew, age 7

Burning Desire

The year was 1666 and I was on a mission. I was created in a small bakery, down in Pudding Lane on the 2^nd September. It was the early hours of Sunday morning and the baker had gone to bed, forgetting to sweep out his oven. I floated from the embers and landed in a crack in the wall, smouldering away in the house’s timber. With great ease, I set the whole wall alight and soon I had the bottom floor of the Farryner’s bakery on fire. The family did not realise until a small son crept down the stairs. “Fire!” he yelled and raced back up to his parents. I taunted behind him, nipping athis skinny ankles. For my amusement, I permitted the rest of them to scramble from their beds, before forcing them to jump out of a window and on to a neighbour’s roof. A young maid was afraid of heights and was unwilling to jump from the window. This stupid woman was my first victim. I watched with satisfaction as she ran, screaming, round the room, engulfed in my flames. A callous smile spread across my face as I gave a crackle of maniacal laughter. This was going to be fun.

Where shall I terrorise next? I rampaged up the street and an unexpected ally joined my forces. The wind knew where his loyalty’s lay. Together we set structures alight and chased people up and down the street. Eventually, every building in Pudding Lane was caught in our magnificent blaze. I was growing larger and stronger by the minute, and so was my ego. If I could cause MASS destruction in an hour, just think what I would be capable of over the course of a few days! Why stop at one street when I could destroy a whole city! This was my chance to go down in history as the Great Fire of London.

With the help of my friend, the wind, I swept across the city, burning everything in my path. It was almost as if the fools wanted me to burn their beautiful home. Their houses were wooden and built so closely together that they could shake hands with a neighbour from an upstairs window. Brilliant fire precautions, I thought sarcastically. As I approached the Thames, I saw a line of men covered in ash and passing leather buckets to each other. I mocked their feeble attempts to control me. As I loomed in front of them, their bravery faltered, and they scattered - tails between their legs.

I raged on mercilessly for the next couple of days, recreating the city in my own terrible fashion. Having already destroyed St. Paul’s Cathedral, my new goal was The Tower of London. But ash blackened people all around me were now blowing up wooden buildings with gunpowder. Suddenly, a strange paralysis took hold and I found it increasingly difficult to move. I was losing energy. What was happening?

The tower was in my sights, but I knew that I couldn’t spread any further. I fell into an exhausted heap.  Without wood to burn, I was beginning to fade.  My mission had not been completed but maybe I had inspired others to follow in my footsteps.