Ashes

2025 7th-8th Grade Prose Winner

Fifteen-year-old Rodrigo Vazquez and his six-year-old sister Elena lean against the cool metal balcony of their Altadena, California fifth-floor apartment. A gentle breeze blows their hair, making it stick up and then fall in sheets back onto their faces as the winds cease for several seconds, then begin to whistle again. Rodrigo and his sister have lived here for four and a half years, ever since wildfires burned down their house in Fresno in the summer of 2020. Elena, of course, remembers nothing of this tragedy, but for Rodrigo, it is a different story. Back then, things were different; Rodrigo’s father had just found a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work for Pelco, a major security company based in Fresno. Rodrigo had recently finished his fifth-grade school year and had been looking forward to a summer of fun with his friends by the Lost Lake, several miles North of Fresno–full of beaches, nature trails and picnic grounds. He had never suspected what would happen very, very soon.

It was August 5^th, 2020, 6:00 AM, a day which has haunted Rodrigo ever since. The first thing Rodrigo remembers is being shaken awake vigorously by his father. Then, he remembers seeing his father choke as he struggles to lift Rodrigo from his bed. From there on, everything is a haze – the brilliant red-orange all around him, the dense smoke surrounding him like a blanket, how steep the stairs to the first floor seemed as he stumbled down them, the fires roaring in the background. He remembers how he fought to breathe, how the scorching heat burned his lungs. His mother was already outside, desperately clutching two-year-old Elena to her chest as Elena kicked and screamed, tears streaming down her face. 

The area was not safe, the authorities had said, as fire truck sirens, and children alike, wailed. All Rodrigo’s family could do was helplessly watch the raging flames devour their home as its ashes faded away into the dark, rumbling sky. Even Elena had fallen silent, as though she understood the gravity of the situation.

“¡Rodrigo! ¡Rodrigo! ¿Estàs durmiendo? ¡Despiértate ahora mismo!” Rodrigo’s mother stands over his hunched body, slumped against the balcony’s metal bars. Elena is no longer beside him. 

“¡Has estado así por veinte minutos!” It appears Rodrigo has dozed off during his recollection and the wind had grown stronger, hammering his chest and toying with his shirt. 

“Lo siento, mami,” Rodrigo mumbles as he rubs his eyes, and then realizes that he is shivering – maybe from the wind or, perhaps, from his recollection of the incident. Rodrigo opens the sliding glass door to the living room and sits down on the grey leather couch to check his email and catch up on some schoolwork. As usual, the daily news headlines appear on the screen, including “War in Gaza Heads Towards Ceasefire” and “President Donald Trump Prepares for Inauguration”, but one in particular catches his attention: “Small Fires Spring Up in Palisades Near Hiking Trail.” Rodrigo’s face pales. He opens the article and reads:

Yesterday morning, the presence of several wildfires was reported near the location of the Lachman fire, which burned only six days earlier, on a popular Los Angeles hiking trail. The fires are spreading quickly – several communities have already been evacuated. Further protective measures will be enforced promptly by the State of California to ensure minimal damage. 

Rodrigo cannot believe what he sees in the article photos – the sky is concealed by thick grey clouds, under which flames destroy tall apartment buildings. Ashes cover the ground; fallen beams and stone blocks lay askew in piles. And then Rodrigo reads the article’s last sentence:

The fires may soon reach the regions of Altadena and Sierra Madre - authorities warn of impending danger.

Rodrigo feels very sick. His head is spinning, and he cannot see or hear well. He tries to stand but stumbles and falls face-first onto his apartment’s shag carpet floor. He sees stars… And then memories of the incident resurface again – the sweltering heat, the dense fumes as they filled his lungs, the blazing flames engulfing his room and coming towards him…

“¡Rodrigo! ¿Qué pasó? ¿Rodrigo?” Rodrigo opens his eyes and sees Elena hovering over him. For a second, he envies her, wishing that he also can’t remember the fire. Ignorance is bliss, he thinks, his head aching. No nightmares every few weeks, no flashbacks to the incident during history exams, no searing pain in his lungs whenever he sees a campfire at the Lost Lake. 

Rodrigo feels his head with his hand and notices a large bump at the top of his forehead. For a second, he is confused as to what had happened, and then remembers the news article, the carpeted floor as it rushed up at him; he must have hit his head, but more importantly, he must tell someone about the fires…

That night, Rodrigo’s parents receive a call from his aunt – his grandmother is very sick and has been taken to the hospital.  “We need to go,” his father says, and on the way out the door, he grasps his son’s shoulder: “Rodrigo, I trust that you will be responsible and take care of Elena. Be a good brother.” Rodrigo nods and looks down, overwhelmed with fear.

“Papi, I have something to tell you,” he blurts out, but his father is already stepping out the door, gone.

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January 8^th, 2025, 4:30 AM. All night, winds from Santa Ana have blown the fires southward into Altadena. Although firefighters have fought tirelessly, the fires are growing too rapidly to be contained. Evacuation warnings have been sent to several neighborhoods.

Rodrigo wakes suddenly to sharp pain in his lungs. When he breathes, he is suffocated by the heat and smoke surrounding him. He tries to jump out of bed but is tangled in his sheets. “¡Elena!” he shrieks as he fights to free himself, but he hears nothing. Where is his sister? Is she safe? With one last kick, Rodrigo manages to tear through the bedsheets and rapidly peels them off of his sweaty body. Then he sees the bright orange flames right outside his bedroom door. He frantically looks for another escape route, but there is none. Just his bedroom’s large window that faces the street below. Panic fills his brain as he hears the bloodcurdling screams as the flames take another victim. No, he must escape right now. Rodrigo takes his last breath before plunging himself through the window…

Pain everywhere. Pain in his legs, his arms, his face. A thick fog clears above Rodrigo’s eyes as a hospital nurse exclaims in disbelief, “He’s awake!” 

“Elena! Where is Elena?” Rodrigo mutters as sweat drips from his forehead. He tries to sit up through the plaster wrapped around his limbs but feels a sharp bolt of pain shoot through his back and he lies back down onto the perfect white sheets of the hospital bed. And then he recalls – the fires, the heat and smoke, the screams, the bed sheets chaining him down. He remembers how he had fought to see and breathe as his eyes stung and he choked until he finally threw himself through the window. It’s inconceivable for a person to fall from a building’s fifth floor and survive, yet Rodrigo Vazquez has – doctors and nurses had crowded over his broken body, not able to comprehend how he still maintained a feeble, flickering pulse. 

“Rodrigo?” Through the curtains around his hospital bed pokes a hand – Elena’s.

“Elena – what happened with—” but Rodrigo loses his voice as he succumbs to the tears that suddenly fill his eyes and drip onto the crisp hospital gown. He grabs Elena’s hand, promising to never let go. He means to ask more – about his parents, about their apartment, but it is all too much, and in this instant, he leans back and lets the darkness swallow him.