Fire Rescue Monologue

            Thick, black smoke poured from the house. My mind jumped from place to place. "My daughter. The fire. Is she okay? The firemen. No way in. The fire. The fire. There's so much fire." I looked around. The tree. It still stood. The flames hadn't reached it yet. I glanced back at the house. The collapsed walls, the doors, filled with flames and fallen debris. A broken ladder lying on the ground. There was no way anyone was getting in or out of there. Not anytime soon. I eyed my daughter's window. The lights were on. She was still inside. In a frenzy, I jerked around, looking for something, anything that could help me save my child. My gaze returned to the tree. As I looked it up and down, I noticed a branch extending near her window. A plan began to take form in my head. It had been what felt like ages by then since my circus days. I didn't even know if I still had any acrobat left in me. But there was no time to ponder. I darted towards the ladder, desperately pleading with anyone nearby to help as I leaned it against the tree. I was lucky there were so many hands ready to help. As I stood below the ladder, I knew I had to remain calm, or else this would never work. Just like the old days. I cleared my mind, pushing all thoughts out except for one. My daughter. I felt my hands climb the rungs, grab onto branches and pull me up, as if they were moving on their own. Racing up the tree, I was running purely on instinct, because if I stopped to have a thought about the situation unfolding around me, it could be my last. I scaled the tree, hugging the trunk and climbing, using its holes and outstretched limbs to help push me up, until at last, I came to the top. There was a single, thin branch separating me from my child. I stood up straight. It had been a decade since I'd done this last. Was I truly ready? It was no larger in diameter than my wrist. One false move... I stopped thinking about that. I stopped thinking about anything. I set my sights on the window, and I walked forward. "Easy, now," I whispered to myself. I could feel the slight shaking, the subtle cracking sounds emanating from the branch. The cracks got louder and louder as I tip-toed across. I froze. Was it the icy air around me, or was I cracking up? I couldn't tell you. Nervously, i breathed in, and breathed out. Within a split second, I lunged through the air, snapping the twig beneath my feet. I didn't watch to see where it landed. When I opened my eyes, I looked around. I was standing on that gutter we'd put in that year. Lucky. I slowly turned to the window, scanning the room and fearing the worst, when suddenly, all those fears were extinguished. I saw her, sitting there. My daughter. Safe. A wave of relief washed over me, and I couldn't help but grin at her, as she looked back at me. I tapped on the glass, and she opened the window for me, propping it open with a stick so it wouldn't fall and break my fingers mid-rescue. As I took her in my arms and held her, I suddenly stopped to wonder how we were going to get down from there. That part of the plan hadn't come to me yet. Worried, I glanced around, trying again to see what could help us out, when I looked down, and let out a sigh of relief. The firefighters had set out a net to break our fall. As we jumped down, I was transported back to the early trapeze days. Trying so hard to cross that wire, only to slip and fall stomach-first into the safety net that lied below. I remembered how my first husband would chuckle, pat me on the back, and send me right up again. He was no stranger to falls either, but when I felt I'd never master the art, he knew just the right words to get me back on my feet. As my daughter and I bounced in the net like it was a big trampoline, and I held her as she giggled, seeing that she was at last safe, I knew that he would've been proud of me.