I watched helplessly as the lips of my ten month old shivered and spread apart producing a sound that I

was unable to hear due to the cacophony that surrounded me, invading my senses and preventing me
from thinking rationally. I was only aware of the pale fragile being I clung to, blackened with soot. The
once pure air became contaminated as fumes and ashes arose from the fire, wrapping around my neck
and attack the hairs that lined my nasal passage which also prevented me from seeing anything past my
outstretched hand. Mandeville had never been so chaotic. Like a snake sizing up its victim, gasoline that
trailed seemingly aimlessly along, transformed into roaring flames, spreading to rapidly to satisfy its
cupidity while robbing the lives of blameless passersby. Scenes of burning white bodies will forever be
etched in my mind, the coruscated ‘F’ (that fell from the FESCO sign) smashing the hand of an escapee
now separated from the wild body that ran off in the opposite direction. I started to move my legs as an
ambulance screamed at me to make my way towards its haven. I paused my disturbing thoughts;
handing my baby to the EMT as the first of many tears trickled down my cheek.