London’s Great Flame

It was the evening of September 1st, 1666, in London. Broadsheet flyers were filled with news about a newly invented cheese created by Joseph Harding, but that was the least of what was on the people's minds. The plague had erupted on the streets of London the previous spring in 1665, leaving the country in absolute turmoil.

Now, among all this chaos, two children—twins, to be exact—walked along the street of Little Eastcheap. They were poor, in desperate need of money, and shared only a single thin blanket. Yet, no warmth came from that thin fabric, for the holes were too great to keep out the vicious cold. It was getting darker now as the sun started to set, taking its warmth along with it. The wind grew harsher as the air became freezing cold, turning their fingertips red and blue and leaving their cheeks rosy.

The little girl looked down sadly at the winter flowers in her wooden basket, which her mother had made for them before she passed away. She had been unable to sell even a single one of these beautiful flowers to earn them at least a farthing. Seeing his sister's frown, her brother spoke to her in an assuring voice, “Hey, everything will be alright. We’ll try again tomorrow. I'm sure we’ll have better luck then.”

She managed a weary but steady smile in agreement. “You're right. We can't give up now. All hope has not been lost yet.”

They continued forward, walking in silence as they scouted for a place to stay for the night. Soon, they came across a bakery. The warm light radiating from the window gave a temporary sense of comfort, shining brightly over the freshly baked bread and cakes. Oh, how it made them drool. But the comfort didn’t last long; the shop was shut off for closing, locked tightly until tomorrow's opening.

Forced to continue their hunt for shelter, they found a small nook between two buildings a little ways down the old, broken road. It was large enough to fit them both, and possibly two others their size.

“This should be a good space to rest, don't you think?” the young boy suggested cheerfully.

“I think you're right,” his sister replied. “And look, there's a ledge on the building. If we put that board over there on top, it should act as a sturdy roof! Right, brother?”

“Indeed you're right! I'll go fetch it right away!”

After he secured the board on the ledges, they huddled tightly together. Feeling completely drained, they finally fell asleep, dreaming of a roaring, warm fireplace and a filled table covered in so much food that it hid every single corner, with family back to fill the empty seats.

At 1:00 AM on September 2nd, the smell of smoke and smothering ash woke them violently from their sleep. Just as they opened their eyes, a piece of the wooden board above them collapsed to the ground, trapping them inside the nook and blocking their exit. Embers burned their eyes as thick, black smoke filled their lungs. Commotion echoed through the street as people screamed and scrambled to put out the fire, but the flames just kept spreading.

The children screamed, trying desperately to grab the attention of someone—anyone. As they backed away in terror, they felt the rear wall pressing hard against their backs. Suddenly, the weak structure gave way and collapsed. They tumbled backward into the burning building just as the rest of their makeshift wooden roof caved in fully. The beautiful basket their mother had made was instantly smashed, and they watched it burn to ash in the flames alongside their only blanket.

They felt the thick smoke lumping in their throats, making it harder and harder to breathe, while their eyes stung as if they were on literal fire. Wandering blindly through the roaring flames and yelling for help, they finally spotted a broken exit and darted toward it, barely making it out alive.

They ran a good twenty feet and walked another thirty feet away from the blazing inferno before the little girl collapsed. Breathing heavily, she fell onto her side in the cold night air. Her brother followed right behind her, collapsing to the frozen ground in front of her.

Through the chaos, they heard a church bell ringing somewhere far off in the distance. The sound caused the little girl to smile. In a raspy, fading voice, she told her brother, “When a bell rings, it means an angel gained their wings... That's at least what mom told us to remember, right?”

The boy smiled, a small sob catching in his throat as he chuckled softly. “She did, didn’t she.”

Putting their foreheads together and holding each other's trembling hands, they both began to relay the sweetest memory of their mother's warm embrace. They remembered the way she laughed, the way she spoke so eloquently to anyone without fail, and how, even when she was about to take her last breath, a smile as bright as the sun and as warm as the spring was painted beautifully on her face. And with that final memory, and with matching smiles on their own tiny faces, they took their last breath on earth and their first in heaven. There, they would live for an eternity with the Lord, reunited alongside their mother.

Later that night, the townsman found the two children. Their rosy-cheeked faces were dirty from the smoky ash, and their arms were covered in red burns from the intense flames. Yet, as they lay together, stiff and still, their faces remained beautifully painted with bright, unbroken smiles.

“Poor children,” a woman sympathized, wiping a tear.

“They must’ve been caught in the bakery fire,” an elderly man commented solemnly.

“And yet, look at their faces. Such beautiful smiles,” added another.

Though the crowd pitied them, no one on earth would ever know the grand wonders and treasures that awaited the twins in heaven—a place where no tears, poverty, hardships, or anxiety existed. They had found absolute peace and comfort, where the weather is forever perfect, the animals are kind, and they will live eternally with God.

The fire lasted until the 6th of September. King Charles II was seen working alongside the people, helping to put out the catastrophic flames. The bakery on Pudding Lane where it all began was eventually rebuilt. Though countless homes were destroyed and thousands were left completely homeless, the sweeping flames successfully burned down a massive portion of the plague-infested alleyways, helping to bring an end to the pestilence.

Later on, it was discovered that the baker, who claimed to have safely put out his oven fire three hours before it spread, was found at fault for letting it ignite. Many of London's ancient records were destroyed in the ashes, and this tragic, historic event would forever be remembered as the Great Fire of London of 1666.