Salem House Trials

Kelli Jae Baeli

The road sign told me I was entering Salem. A small sign, for a small town. As I wound my way into the picturesque burg and came upon a clearing, I dropped the Civic into third gear, afraid the sudden smell of smoke might be coming from my engine.
   While I searched for a wide shoulder, I noticed that the smoke was rising above the trees just ahead. I accelerated again and upon rounding the next bend, discovered the source of the dark, curling cloud I had seen.
   A statuesque house, roof consumed in flames, stood ominous against the afternoon sky. I stopped the car along the road and walked down the short driveway toward the small crowd of people standing at a safe distance from the blaze. As I came closer, I noticed that most of them stood silently, some of them with arms folded, one squatted on the ground chewing a weed, twirling it in his fingers. None of them made an effort to assist the man who sprayed vainly at the structure with a garden hose.
   I moved up behind a middle-aged man and inquired, "What's happening?"
   He turned to cock a brow at me. "Fire."
   "Yeah, I got that part..." I looked about, confused and a bit annoyed by the blatant apathy to the homeowner's plight. "Aren't you going to help him?"
   The man adjusted the wad of tobacco in his cheek and spat a stream of brown goo on the ground. "You ain't from around here, are ya?"
   I shook my head, as he turned back toward the burning house, as if it were some form of light entertainment.
   "He's a fireman. Let him do it hisself."
   "But his house is burning down--"
   The man spat again, this time closer to my shoe. "Shame, too. It was a beaut'."
   I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "I don't understand. Why isn't anyone helping--?"
   "Reckon we're a might weary from the rebuilding on our own houses."
   Befuddled, I backed away, knowing I still had a long journey ahead of me, with no time to remain in the little burg of Salem for answers to this puzzle.
   I made my way back to the Civic and continued on through the town. Every so often, along that old road, I caught sight of charred remains--houses burned to the ground, the land around them barren, dry.
   Maybe someday I'd pass through again and ask more questions.

Story idea taken from this NEWS ITEM: On February 17, 1985, a dozen volunteer firemen with three trucks, stood by and watched the home of Anthony Brazil burn to the ground. Mr. Brazil had evidently forgotten to pay his twenty dollars for yearly fire protection from the Salem Fire Department in Saline County, Arkansas. Neighbors tried to pay the twenty dollars, and even offered two hundred fifty dollars in an effort to get the flames extinguished. Fire Chief Ronnie Courtney refused. The fire killed the Brazil family's dog, and left them with nothing but the clothes they were wearing and their family cars. Later, Mr. Brazil's sister-in-law said, "They should have just left the scene when they decided not to fight the fire and saw that no one else was in danger. Instead, they hung around, rinsed off their truck and wouldn't do so much as to protect the satellite dish. . ."

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