Living in a House on Fire

There is something truly bizarre about living in 2020 and seeing people still debate the realities of climate change. I will freely admit that twelve years ago, when I was an idiotic teenager, I used to say things like “well, it’s real, but it’s also a cycle and we can only fix so much of that.” But it is astounding to me that people still say this. First of all, I was a dumb teenager. Secondly, we have had twelve further years of evidence that something is going horribly wrong with our home. We are living in a house that is literally on fire, the smoke alarm is blaring, and some people are still questioning if there’s really even if a fire, and if there is, can we actually afford to put it out.

All of which is to say is that if the above paragraph makes you angry at me, you will not want to read my latest story in the Fall 2020 issue of Prairie Fire.

The issue is called Living in a House on Fire and is full of stories, poems and essays about “how we live amidst the nameless despair that is constantly smouldering in the background of our lives.” I know that is intense for an intense year. But maybe there is some catharsis to be found in confronting the feelings that we have all felt in this year.

My story in this issue, though, is a little different. The Turbine at the End of the World is less a story about living in a house on fire, but rather living in a house that has already burnt down. It takes place in a nameless part of the world (although it was inspired by a night-time drive in Clacton-on-Sea. I know. There are more glamorous inspiration stories) which is dealing with sea level and temperature rises. The wind turbines that exist on the horizon are slowly dying, but one person remembers from her childhood that it is these turbines that will save us, although she no longer remembers how. All she knows is that she has a duty to keep them safe. It is a story about our failures and what they might mean, but it is also, I think, a story about how good a person’s heart can be and its capacity for hope.

And I hope it is a story that never comes true. We need to put the fire out. Take action accordingly.

The Turbine at the End of the World can be found in the Fall 2020 issue of Prairie Fire here.