You could see it for miles; a huge metal bonfire spitting sparks at the face of the evening sky, its great smoke mushroom billowing high into the wind. The kids stood transfixed around it as the flames danced across the old fairground ride, licked the iron rails, melted the seats. In the distance the desperate wail of a fire engine cut through the night. The kids scattered.

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Tim Waltho

Latest posts by Tim Waltho (see all)

• A Sky Full Of Stars - 28/12/15
• Chusovaya - 04/04/15
• Siberia - 29/03/15
• View From the Window - 23/03/15
• A Day on the River - 11/03/15