The Fire

The building is on fire. No one can move. The phones are dead. People screaming. People crying. Not only that, but people are MELTING. Wait, are we real? I mean, all we do is stand in shop windows looking pretty. What am I, who am I? Am I real like those people over there screaming and gasping for breath? Yes, breath, what is it? Do I, no. I can’t I’m not real.

             ‘Help! Help! Help! We need a fire brigade, we need an ambulance.’

All of a sudden the lights went out and we were locked in this darkness, with only the flicker of the hungry fire creeping closer to us. A teenage girl finally got through on her phone to the emergency services.

         ‘Omg, omg. Please can someone help us. We are trapped in a building and the building is on fire.’

      The man on the other side of the phone replied: 'Okay sweet heart, you have prank called us too many times and I ain't falling for it this time. We will be handing you a fine as you are wasting our time.’ The girl was crying, wishing she never prank called. Her immature behaviour has cost her her life and many others.

         An older man grabbed the phone. ’ I don’t know what you are playing at, but this is constable Fred and this is an emergency we have several  people stuck in this building that are badly injured, and we need at least 20 men to cool this building down.’

      ’Err, yes sir. I mean YES SIR.’

         There it was, that bright light of heaven beaming through to save us from the angry fire.

      The fire men dragged out injured people, dead people and melted mannequins.

         The building collapses.