Leaves on Fire

Trigger warning: suicide

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. I couldn’t believe what my backyard looked like. All of those beautiful dry leaves in their oranges, reds, and browns were glowing with the flames. The tree was close to catching, as well. 

         Quickly, I grabbed the water hose and turned on the faucet. I began spraying down the house and the tree, then the flames on the leaves. I screamed at my ten year old, who had followed me outside, to go back in and call 911. He turned and ran towards the house, glad to be away from the frightening glow of the fire.

         My neighbor came outside, grabbed his hose, and began helping me spray over the fence. My ten year old reappeared, with his twelve year old sister in tow. I told them to go back inside, out the front door, and across the street to wait for the fire department. I had seen sparks land on the roof and it was beginning to smolder. My neighbor noticed it, too, and attempted to put out that part of the fire.

         It was spreading too fast for myself and my neighbor to contain it, and the fire department was taking too long. I was terrified that my house would go up in flames. The tree was now blazing along with the leaves on the ground. As I was looking, a branch fell, blazing, from the tree and landed on the roof. My neighbor abandoned me and began spraying his own house down in order to try and save it. I could hear the wail of the fire trucks, but it was going to be too late by the time they got here. 

         I abandoned my mission, as well, and attempted to run through the house to meet my kids across the street. Before I could make it past the kitchen, a large beam that was on fire fell from the ceiling and blocked my way to the living room. Terrified, I ran back outside and around the house. As I dashed across the street, I could hear things falling and windows breaking. 

         Finally, the fire department arrived, but all they could do was put out the flames. Nothing was able to be salvaged. My neighbor had called my husband, and he came speeding up so fast that he almost hit a fire truck. 

         I stated the obvious, telling him that we had lost everything. Even my car in the garage was barely recognizable. All I could think about was all of the irreplaceable things we had lost. All of our pictures, home videos, my wedding dress. So many material things that couldn’t be replaced. 

         Of course, I was completely thankful that my family had all gotten out safely, and that the kids were actually old enough to understand what had happened. We had lost our goldfish, Tootsie, and our little Pomeranian, Poopsie, and that broke our hearts. 

         My husband got hold of our insurance company and the Red Cross. We were able to get some clothing and a hotel room for a few days. I was beyond exhausted, although it was just the middle of the afternoon. Once we got checked into the hotel I stretched out across the foot of one of the beds and fell asleep immediately. I was awakened by my husband gently shaking my shoulder. The fire chief was at the door, and needed to speak to us.

         We sent the kids into the other room of the suite that we had checked into and sat down to talk with the fire chief. He informed us that the fire had been set intentionally. We were horrified! Who on Earth would have deliberately set fire to our back yard in the middle of the day?

         We couldn’t imagine – we had no clue. He said that they had determined it was started with lighter fluid. We were beside ourselves. After he left all we could do was sit and shake our heads. We both racked our brains trying to think of who could have done such a horrible thing, but nothing came to mind.

         When the kids came back in, we told them what we had learned. Our twelve year old daughter immediately burst into tears. She claimed it was just the shock of everything, which was understandable under the circumstances and we thought nothing of it at the time.

         Over the next few days, we found out more and more information. For one thing, our insurance didn’t cover arson, so we were getting nothing for the loss of our house or our possessions. This sent my daughter into another crying fit. This one concerned me a bit more than the other one had, and I tried to discuss it with her. She wasn’t ready to talk – yet.

         As the days turned into weeks, we were having to pay out of pocket for the hotel. We were finally given clearance to go ahead and get rid of the debris. My husband and I looked over our finances and determined that about all we could do would be to have the lot cleared and buy a trailer. However, our neighborhood wasn’t zoned for a trailer, so we were going to have to sell the lot and live in a trailer park.

         We passed this load of bad news on to the kids, at which point our daughter just gave us the saddest look and walked back into the other room. We asked her brother if he knew what was going on with her, but he didn’t. Two days later, our daughter was dead by her own hand, and had left a lengthy note explaining everything.

         The note stated that Lindsey, my daughter, had been being bullied for months. Apparently, she had had a boyfriend (at twelve, believe it or not), and he wanted her to do things that she wasn’t ready to do. When she refused, he trashed her name all over the school and that began the bullying. She had been told to kill herself and called awful names. They had threatened her family. They had told her that they would burn down her house. 

My heart leapt into my throat. No wonder my poor baby had been hit so hard by what had happened. She knew exactly who had done it, and she felt guilty about it. My poor, poor baby.

We turned the note over to the police department, and they took the appropriate actions. They not only caught the arsonists, but the rest of the bullying group was tried for my daughter’s death. 

My son was never the same again. A few months after the trial was over, my husband left and took our son with him. I ended up where I am now, locked up in the hospital writing this down. MY therapist thinks it will help. I think the stockpile of pills I have been squandering away will help more. I think I will go to my room now. I will make myself presentable, because I will be seeing my darling daughter soon.