By Allie Parker

Copyright by Ellie Mason, 2017

Kindle Edition 2017

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process, nor may any other exclusive right be exercised, without the permission of Ellie Mason, ECMason@outlook.com.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Flames licked at tree trunks and raced through dry shrubs with effortless speed. An old weatherboard shed creaked and groaned before slowly leaning and crashing to the ground.

Click, Click.

Meg could feel the heat, even while at a safe distance. You’ll need to move soon, she thought, the wind is changing directions. The flames ignored boundary fences, devouring posts as it crept along dry ground. As the fire approached the grazing fields, Meg was glad to see that farmers had cut the wire to allow animals through.

Click, click.

Meg tightened her grip on the camera and moved along the fence line to capture the dry, dead foreground. It was a spectacular sight, with the solid wall of flames slinking down the hill towards it. She lay on her stomach to capture the picture; the flames were visible through the dead grass and the rolling storm clouds above added to the electric atmosphere.

Click, click, click.

A crash of thunder rumbled a couple of kilometres away. Meg rolled over onto her back, clicking off a few shots of the grey storm clouds, as they mixed with plumes of dirty brown smoke. Two of Mother Nature’s forces were about to battle for control. Meg stood and turned back to face the fire, which was now rapidly approaching her position. She strapped her bags over her shoulders and made her way to a clearing where, even if the blaze changed direction again before the rain fell, she would be relatively safe. She knew the fire fighters would reprimand her for being so stupid, but the images she was capturing were worth the risk. She wasn’t one to take pictures of the devastation after the fact; houses burnt to the ground and treasured possessions reduced to ashes. Or crying faces of grown men and children covered in black soot. She’d leave that to the journalists and wanna-be internet reporters. It was the action and adrenaline that Meg liked to capture. The heart and soul of Mother Nature that, every once in awhile, overwhelmed the regular and the every-day. The ordinary rustic setting turned extraordinary by a pure force, as a reminder of her power and strength.

As the first fat drops of rain began to fall, Meg studied the landscape through the camera lens and thought how good her life was. She was so certain about her talent and passion for photography; she was happy in her relationship, which admittedly over-lapped with her work; and she had many great friends to share her life. But most of all, she loved her independence; her ability to work for herself and remain solvent was both challenging and rewarding. Life was turning out great, she thought, smiling to herself. She zipped the waterproof sleeve over the camera equipment and kept her water resistant camera ready for the next instalment of Mother Natures’ battle of the elements.