Escape from saint Hellenes

Molten rock roared skyward in the violent eruption of the Volcano. Ash filled the air like a flock of crows and then danced slowly down to the earth, ten miles below. Birds called out in distress as they rapidly rose from there roost. Deer sprinted through the woods panicking as squirrels cried out shrill warnings of defiance in the face of the volcano.
But it was too late. A lateral blast of scorching hot gas left a 10 mile radius of death and destruction. Within an hour the landscape that was already besieged but still alive, was destroyed. Triggered by the blast of gases the enraged volcano slowly let the losed mud flows, clogging up the river and killing what survivors were fool enough to stay close to rivers which were already chocked with black ash. When the dust cleared a scene of destruction and devastation awaited the few lucky survivors.
John had always loved the outdoors. He was always the one you would see alone on the trail with his dog, willing to spare a few minutes for a conversation. So when he had heard of the possibility of a volcanic eruption, he wasn’t going to cancel a trip which had already cost him money and time. After-all, he was on a limited budget.
Getting out of the car he took a deep breath. Mountains had always been havens. Havens were he could get away from work and just relax and slow down the pace of life.
Ignoring it at first, he heard his dog bark. Probably chasing some butterfly, he thought and then dismissed it out of his head.
Then he noticed the fleeing birds and animals. Looking back towards his dog he gasped. A giant cloud of smoke and dust rose like a grim specter from Mt. Saint Hellens. Walking towards the view of the volcano, he stared with disbelief.
“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening” he repeated to himself as a small child does to try to prove a point. But in the end the cloud of ashes, the herald of the destruction, soon brought him back to reality.

Now John had been in trouble before. In Alaska he had faced a bear, he had trekked through storms and snow only because his hand was forced with the running out of his food but all of that was minor in comparison to what was happening now.
So that was how he found himself and his dog rushing down the narrow and winding mountain roads at a 100 miles per hour, skidding on the narrow turns. Looking back at the mountain he began to here a rumble which soon turned into a roar. Trees began to blacken as a blast of heat cut short their long lives and destroyed a forest which had stood for a hundred years.
“I might make it, I am 10 miles away from the mountain, I just might make,” John chanted in a flat voice. The car raced forward and the wave of fire rushed forward like a dog let lose on a medieval hunt.
“I just might make, just might make it”
All that he could imagine was a wall of pure flame rushing towards him and that just made him drive faster. But of course he knew from the air it would just look like a cloud of smoke and ash.
“Almost there” he grunted, as he saw the line of police guarding the evacuation line.
Stepping on the gas he burst through the wooden road blocks and skidded to a halt. One of the police officers yelled at him and tapped the window rapidly. But he didn’t care he was alive! He was alive.

Very good. Does this refers to the historical eruption of Mt. Hellens?

It is a good scenario, but unfortunatly the writing itself seems a bit rushed. For example, you talk of survivors in the second paragraph: man or animal? I was also a bit puzzled when it said John and his dog were rushing down the mountain at 100 mph; the "John and his dog"-bit evokes the image of a dog and his owner running, not driving in a car.

Otherwise, a very nice first story ~:thumb: .

Ya its based off the historic eruption of Mount Saint Hellenes.
Thanks for the feed back :bow: