Nick Delquadro

Engl 1010

Prof. Haslam

12/12/2021

The Flame on the Streets of SLC

“Drive safe out there Savannah,” I said with a sad and worried voice as I hugged her, “Go

straight home and text me when you get there.”

She backed up just far enough to look me in the eyes and reassure me, “I will.” I gave her

one last hug, feeling my phone buzzing in my pocket, and then as she walked to her car, I slowly

closed the front door behind her. I looked down at my phone to see what the buzzing was. My

face of worry was ignited into a face of panic and anger. It was much worse than I had thought.

In the living room, my family’s eyes locked like a steel safe onto the television, displaying the

terror in the streets of North Salt Lake.

Just an hour earlier, it was a normal Saturday night. My girlfriend was over since neither

of us had work and LOTS of homework that day for our Concurrent and AP classes. We usually

worked in my room since it was more private and away from my energetic and chaotic 4 year old

sister. “Phoeniiix! Nicholaaaas! Dinner’s readyyy!” my mom’s voice called out to us from the

kitchen downstairs.

“Coming moooom!” I yelled back down. We quickly put our homework away and told

my brother to come down as well as he had most likely not heard her since he was isolated in the

soundproof gaming room just down the hall. Savannah’s, Phoenix’s, and my feet trotted down
the stairs like a herd of horses. We sat down at the dinner table and began to eat our dinner. The

vegetables were as bright green as you could imagine them to be. The mashed potatoes were as

smooth as the butter that had made them. Lastly, the pot roast’s time and effort could be tasted

with every string of meat, but my siblings could barely tell as all they had paid attention to was

the fact that they were famished. Our feet began to trot back upstairs when our mom’s voice

from the kitchen was directed at us once more.

“Where do you guys think you’re going? Come spend some time with your sister,” my

mom said with her face stern and her eyes wide. My mouth had only opened slightly to respond

when my mom, not caring, interrupted and said, “Come. Sit.” I looked down at my sister in the

living room, playing with her toys from her favorite show that featured dogs with modern day

jobs such as a police officer, pilot, construction worker, and a firefighter. I dragged my feet over

to my sister as I sighed and Savannah followed me.

While my mom finished cleaning up, I asked my little sister about her show which was

apparently called Paw Patrol. I asked her all about their names and her favorite one. She had just

the most lively voice I had ever heard which was always my favorite even though my thoughts

about how much homework I had still ran in the back of my mind. I looked over at Savannah,

and she hadn’t had the same fascination that I had. I could tell by her stressed and scrunched

posture and sunken facial expression that her thoughts of homework ran more closer to the front

of her mind than mine.

As I started to look around, I noticed my mom had finished cleaning and was on the

couch with my step dad and brother. I could see that my babysitting services were no longer

needed, but as I began to get up with Savannah, I glanced at the TV to see the news was on.
“Come on, Nick,” Savannah said slightly, pulling on my forearm, “Let’s at least finish our

revisions for English.”

“Just a sec,” I said as I stood firmly. My attention was brought to a flame on the TV. This

flame, however, didn’t have the stability and traditional beauty from a candle flame, but instead a

more free and loose fire spreading throughout a flipped vehicle. I look just a foot down from the

flame to see the caption. “Local Black Lives Matter Leaders Comment On Protest,” I read

quietly outloud to myself. “Where is this,” I said to my family. No response. I looked over to the

couch where they had sat and their eyes and complete attention were drawn to the TV and what

the reporter was saying. I inspected the news stations’ images in search of answers, and I could

see the Salt Lake Library in the background, one of my favorite places to go when I was little.

“Oh my god. It’s in Salt Lake City,” I quietly said to myself.

Next thing I hear is the US amber alert coming out from our speakers, followed by a

message that North Salt Lake was under lockdown, requiring everyone in that area to stay

indoors. Although we lived about 30-35 minutes away from there, my mom seemed to hold onto

everyone closer that she could reach. “My dad says that I need to go home,” said Savannah with

frustration and confusion in her voice.

“What? Why? He knows how far you guys are away from it right?” I said back, mirroring

her expression.

“I don’t know. He just says I got to go.” I sighed and waved for her to follow me upstairs,

so we could grab her stuff. We rushed to put every pencil, textbook, and binder in her bag and on

her back. I wished her off, feeling frustrated about her dad making her go and worried that

whatever was happening a half hour away would be an obstacle on her drive home.
 I opened up my phone, turned up the volume of my ringtone, and saw that my dad had

sent me a Facebook post with no following message to explain what it could be. I opened up the

post to see the flame again, lying in front of my graffitied childhood. This was instead a live

broadcast from the point of view of a protestor. I read further into the caption to see that they

were protesting for the Black Lives Matter protests. This live protestor was running through a

park and could see rows of policemen with shields, firefighters with large and loud trucks, and

crowds of people with signs. My phone buzzed. I flipped the switch on the side of the phone, so I

could hear my ringtone for any incoming messages from my girlfriend. The only message that

had come through, however, was from my dad.