http://lindahoyland.livejournal.com/858024.html
My effort:
Hope frowned. From the porch, she could see the flowers of the garden, blossoming pink and yellow, the fence, the branches against the sky, but nothing else clearly -- and she was wearing her slippers -- but there, her sandals. She changed, quickly, and hurried out to the street.
She neededn't have bothered to hurry. Great black clouds of smoke billowed up. One bit looked, for a moment, like a cat without whiskers, but moments later, engulfed in more smoke, it looked like nothing but a fierce blob monster.
