Seems to be an Annual Event now, every year... I lived there in 1978, which was another big fire season... I stood on top of the Santa Monica Mountains and watched the flames roll up the hills, two hundred feet high, washing over the houses like surf, the people scurrying away like little ants, running, looking over their shoulders, hoping to outrun the fire, which they usually did. A girl at the Pacific Palisades Bank told me that in the middle of the night, there was a pounding on her door, and someone shouting "Get out! Get out!" and they ran down the street, all of them, on bicycles, dogs, people in sleepwear, even a horse. She looked back and saw the wall of flame coming right behind them. Miracles. No one was hurt. Stories from Los Angeles.
Jiva
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