To Kill a Mockingbird Newspaper Article

The Maycomb Tribune

Devastating Fire Devours Home
In the early hours of the morning of Saturday 14th December, the house of Miss Maudie Atkinson, 48, caught fire. By approximately 1:15 am, the whole town was filing out of their house to see what was going on and watch in awe as flames devoured their well-loved neighbours’ house. ‘At the front door, I saw fire spewing from Miss Maudie’s dining room window. It looked like a pumpkin.’ Said Jean Louise ‘Scout’ Finch, 7. Luckily for Miss Atkinson, the men of the town were only to glad to help. ‘The men of Maycomb, in all degrees of dress and undress, took furniture from Miss Maudie’s house. ‘It was awful, just awful, I’m so glad I can help poor Miss Maudie after such an ordeal.’ Said Miss Stephanie Crawford, 63, who Miss Maudie is living with until her house is rebuilt. After watching the fire for what seemed a long time, people started growing curious of why nothing was being done to put the fire out. They soon saw why. ‘The old fire truck, killed by the cold, was being pushed from town by a crowd of men.’ But the trouble didn’t stop there as once the fire truck got to the fire and ‘the men attached it’s hose to the hydrant, the hose burst and water shot up, tinkling down onto the pavement. By 2:00 am, the fire was well into the second floor.
In a last attempt to salvage something flaming wreck that was once Miss Maudie’s home, Mr Dick Avery began climbing through the window, despite the cries of worried neighbours like ‘Come down from there Dick!’ ‘The stairs are going!’ and ‘Get outta there, Mr Avery!’ If only Mr Avery had listened to these cries, maybe the events to come would have been averted. Mr Avery was wedged tightly in the window frame. The spectators could hardly watch until Jeremy ‘Jem’ Finch, 12, shouted ‘He’s got loose! He’s alright!’ Mr Avery carefully crossed the upstairs porch, swung his legs over the railing and was sliding down a pillar when he slipped. He fell, yelled and landed in a heap in Miss Maudie’s shrubbery. The fire had now started to spread. Smoke was rolling off the houses like fog off a riverbank and men were pulling hoses towards them. Miss Maudie’s tin roof quelled with flames. Roaring, the house collapsed; fire gushed everywhere, followed by a flurry of blankets from men on top of the adjacent houses, beating out sparks and burning chunks of wood. It was dawn before men began to leave, first one by one, then in groups after returning the fire truck to the town station. Luckily there were no major injuries.

Mad Mutt Shot

Tim was the property of Harry Johnson. Tim was a liver-coloured bird dog , the pet of Maycomb. On the 13th of February, he was spotted walking erratically as if his right legs were shorter than his left by Jean Louise ‘Scout’ and Jeremy ‘Jem’ Finch. As soon as they spotted him, they ran back to their home and alerted there coloured nurse, Calpurnia. She took one look at the rabid dog and called Atticus Finch, who works at the local attorney. As soon as she had put the phone down, she alerted the whole town. ‘I had some trouble. Nobody believed that there were a mad dog. After all, it is February and who’s heard of a mad dog in February?’ said Calpurnia. Mr Finch and Sherriff Heck Tate arrived as Tim Johnson came into sight, walking dazedly in the inner rim of the curve parallel to the Radley House. He was walking at snail pace: he seemed dedicated and motivated by an invisible force that was inching him towards the awaiting sheriff. He was shivering like a horse shedding flies; his jaw opened and shut; he was alist, but he was being pulled towards the gun. Tim Johnson reached the Radley place and what remained of his poor mind made him try to turn around but he was having difficulty. He made up what was left of his mind and pursued another course. He made two steps forward, then stopped and raised his head. His body went rigid. The rifle cracked. Tim leaped, flopped over and landed on the sidewalk in a brown and white heap. RIP.