The Great Fire of 1862

Screaming. All that could be heard was screaming. Vivian awoke ran to her window. Half the city was in flames. Vivian blinked at first, thinking maybe it was just a bale of hay that had caught on fire and people were trying to put it out. Though she soon realized that it wasn't. Someone had set fire to the docks and the ships in port. 

"Charles! Charles!" Vivian whispered.

Charles rolled over and looked at her. "What is it? Why do you wake me at this hour?" 

"The town, it's on fire." Vivian replied.

Charles walked over from the bed, trying not to wake the children sleeping beneath them. Vivian pushed back the massive scarlet curtain for him to look. When he saw that the town was truly burning, he grabbed his equstrian boots and put them on and ran out of the Manor; leaving Vivian alone. 

Charles pushed the massive oak doors open, Charles hopped on a horse and sprinted to town. Screaming. More screaming. As Charles approached the town, he saw people taking torches and throwing it at buildings in protest to the prices of fish and lobster. By the time Charles had reached the town square, it had started rain. Little droplets hit his face and ran down him. As Charles hopped off the horse, he stepped in a massive puddle. 

"Down with the Galantes! Put out the tyranny!" The townspeople screamed. 

One of the townspeople spotted Charles and pointed his torch at him. "No futher Lord Charles. Make one more step and we'll burn ya'!" 

Crash! One of the buildings that the townspeople had set on fire had collapsed. Smoke and ash filled the sky; turning it a menacing black and scarlet. A few of the townspeople were crushed by the enormous amounts of debry that the bulding created. Charles watched in horror as the helpless townspeople reached out their hands, begging for help and the buildings fell and crushed them. 

"Look! The Manor's a flame!" A man screamed. 

Charles looked in horror. "My Vivian. My children." Charles hopped back onto his horse and rode her as fast as he could up Linport Hill. The closer Charles got, the larger the flame became. Linport Manor was an immense Manor that took up a majority of the hill. As Charles rode up the hill, he heard a loud sound, almost sounded like bricks falling and crashing. 

"She's dead! The mistress!" One of the maids said to Charles, the maid pointed the the large, broken window. 

Hanging from a noose was Vivian; his dear, beloved wife. Gone. Filled with an excessive amount of depression, Charles rode his horse to the end of Linport Hill. "I will meet you soon Vivian." Charles said. He hopped off his horse for the final time. The waves crashed against the jagged rocks at the bottom of the hill. Charles said a small prayer, ending with "I give my soul to you!" and let his body fall limp. The fall was short and merciful. The moment Charles hit the rocks, he was dead. 

For the rest of the night, Linport Manor and Linport burned. As the sun rose that morning, the rain had let up and the fires were put out. The sky was still filled with smoke and ash. Half of Linport had been destroyed and a fourth of the population had died; including Vivian and Charles Galante. After the Great Fire of 1862, everyone swore that the town was haunted and many moved from the small seaside town to residing villages, leaving Linport dead and empty.

The End

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