Yarloop
No one saw it coming No one stood a chance Black as night. Piles of corrugated iron that once were houses. The last of the ash in the fireplace blankets what little remains of a lifetime; fried to little more than dust. Half melted dolls faces stare into their now bleak and empty future; no more children to play. Bright Orange. Nothing is left. Dull amber leaves clinging to the last life in their branches. Skeletons of cars sit warped and rusted and abandoned; no more families to drive. Trunks are nothing but ash and anguish. Black wires growing out of the ground reaching for an escape that isn’t there. Branches jarring at harsh angles, twisting and writhing from the searing heat. No one saw it coming. No one stood a chance.















