It was a pleasure to burn. The burning in the distance was like the setting evening sky. Closer they went and the air was more humid, even though they had moved no more than one hundred yards closer. The flames were a screaming symphony of whistles and pops in the night air. Closer and closer they got to the flames. In the debris you could hear the animals. They were children, running to find safety and shelter wherever possible. Crying out in pain as the monstrous flames engulfed them. Seething with rage, the flames took fire to the nearby countryside.

Finally reaching the tops of the trees, some as high as sky-scrapers, took them over without a single branch hitting the once soft and soggy ground of night. After some time, they reached the house. Amazingly they halted before ever destroying the magnificent, white, Victorian style abode.

As the animals appeared one after the other from the debris, you could see they were badly burned. They stumbled about in a drunken manner. Clickety-clack went their hooves on the soft sandy ground. The calves hiding in fear of the humans, only there to help. Approaching the scene, the surrounding neighbors watched the burning of the rest of the field while trying to put out the horrid flames.



One by one the neighbors, generous as they were, helped in putting out the flames and herding all the animals. Many of the horses were bucking and neighing as though they were a rider atop their backs, and the cattle were bunched together in a very tight group. Finally, after hours of herding and coaxing, the men had got the animals into surrounding barns for the night. Looking back at everything everyone was shocked at how the once magnificent and glorious red barn was now a pile of black cinders.