I was wandering through the forest looking for mushrooms when I heard the sound. It was a weird high-pitched whine, followed by a rumbling thump that made the trees overhead jostle and spill their leaves. I crept through the forest, wishing I had something in the pocket of my jeans that was a bit more threatening than a Swiss Army knife. I scrambled up a little hillock and the bitter, acrid tang of burning brush wafted in my nostrils. Smoke drifted between tall boughs and made me cough. Somewhere, part of the forest was burning. In the middle of winter. This was bad.
I reached the top of the hillock and over the other side, I saw the tops of scorched, blackened trees. Half of the forest canopy looked as though it had been sheared by a burning hot blade. I began to scramble down the hillock to investigate the destroyed forest when a blinding beam of light blasted up from the ruined, burnt trees. I flung my hands in front of my face and backed away from the stinging light. My foot slipped on a patch of leaf debris and I slid down the hillock.
Continue reading: The Tunnel – Jessica Bakkers
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 