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The dry hay starts to fill the barn with smoke incredibly quickly. It’s a deep, insipid grey with a touch of green. It almost mesmerises me for a few moments. I can’t believe how fast the whole place has taken light. There’s a thick black fog being provided by the burning petrol, too, and I’m disorientated. I haven’t moved, but I still don’t know for sure which way I’m facing. The smoke seeps into my lungs, tickling at my throat and making my chest flutter and heave.
The barn is lit up bright, but I still can’t see anything. My eyes burn, and I blink rapidly as I try to wash the smoke from them. The heat starts to affect them, too, and I feel myself pulling my eyes closed to protect them. The whole barn moves and shimmers in a haze of heat, the waves of smoke hitting me every couple o
