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Author Topic: Self-Edited version: Smoke on the Water  (Read 2148 times)

KristenH

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Self-Edited version: Smoke on the Water
« on: July 27, 2021, 04:08:18 PM »
HI all. Here's my belated self-edited version of Smoke on the Water. I do some commenting this week to catch up on both versions. Enjoy!

Smoke On the Water

On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach. I received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design a print for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields. They've given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
I glanced at Lake Michigan lapping at the shore. Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. In my right hand, I carried my tablet.  From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I've gotten the gist of how tall and wide it would be for the nylon fabric. I pretended to faint. My name mentioned in the local newspaper for this newest milestone in my career.
At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut rough design. Instead the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composite on the canvas like an artist painting their landscape or seascape. My feet dangled near the edge and not too close to the railing. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest. Unadulterated adrenaline rushed through me as I've worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors with the master keys.
Inside, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world... ? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing and looked for a sign. No passing sailboats or fishing boats to make waves. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I dialed 9-1-1. A wicker basket acted like a small boat, burning alive with a fiery flame. I gasped at the deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked.
"A hot air balloon had fallen in Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier."
"I'm sending EMS, police, and fire over your way within ten minutes. Your name??
?Thank you. Jillian Ross.? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Time was of the essence. Why was that balloon here?... unless it was for an emergency landing.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. Although it wasn't  swimming season, the water might not be warm enough for a rescue. I stashed my tablet inside my car and donned my wetsuit. As a senior lifeguard during my youth, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a headstart. I hurried to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen miles away.
In the distance, sirens sounded off behind me with flashing red and blue lights. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed into the water before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss,? a tall male said. ?You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD fireman's uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage on what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals. "Yes I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...."  I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
 I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is... Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered.
O'Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors were named O'Dowd last fall? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." I dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the Rescue Squad's motorboat.  I've gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air  as someone called for "help."
 Logan sped on the waves. I splashed him when I approached the basket. This man sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
 I did my best to shrug off the shivers. The fire engulfed the hot air balloon.  A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to his needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proved your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold or get hypothermia or pneumonia..."
I haven't gotten that far on what the prize would be, other than plain boasting and bragging rights. "I wanted to tend to that victim and take him safely to the shore... Lieutenant."
 "It's already taken care of. Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous. 
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I extended my hand to O?Dowd when he helped me climb inside the boat. I wrapped myself in a warm towel as we sped past the other firemen that gathered the hot air balloon for evidence. But I'd recognized the letters for the BalloonFest.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I didn't know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." During the rest of the ride, I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later,  I drove away and headed toward Emberly Heights, not knowing if I ever see him again.