It’s the first day of the New Year, and I am writing by candlelight, while my dog and cat snooze at my feet.

Yesterday, after an eerie dawn revealed an ominous glow along the coast, I continued my fire plan by watering around the house as I watched sinister black leaves slowly drift to earth. They were very elegant actually, falling in graceful spirals, but I wondered about what was to follow. The smoke worsened, and my neighbour appeared in the gloom and said we’d been advised by the Country Fire Authority (CFA) to leave, because Karbeethong was on fire. Karbeethong is the area of Mallacoota to the north-west of my place, and I turned around to look at another orange glow in the sky. Fire ahead of me, and fire behind me – it was time to go.

Trying to stay calm, I stuffed the rest of my emergency supplies into the car, put the disgruntled cat into his transport box and shoved it into the station wagon, then got my dog, Tilly, onto the back seat. With one last glance and a whispered, “Good luck, little house,” I began to follow my neighbours’ car around the inlet towards the main campground where I knew fire trucks were defending our ‘place of last resort’.

Halfway there, a man was walking along the roadside, looming up beside me in the gloom. I pulled up and lowered the window. “Do you want a lift?”

“Well … Have you got room?”

“I’ll make room,” I said, probably in a semi-hysterical voice, as I pitched bags and sundry items onto the back seat (and poor Tilly’s head). “Get in!”

We reached the main wharf, where my passenger got out to find his family who were already there, and I looked for a good place to park among the many hundreds of cars, caravans, tents and boats on trailers – and thousands of tourists and residents. My pets and I took shelter in the car on the water’s edge, and I repeated my mantra. If the worst happens … dog, cat, woollen blankets, mask, out of car and into water, huddle beside the wall, blankets over our heads.

Yesterday, day turned into night. Yesterday, the sky to my left glowed bright with a vivid orange, like the entrance to Hell, while the rest of the world was pitch black. Yesterday, the drifting black leaves turned red. They looked almost pretty; like giant, glowing fireflies soaring over our heads. I comforted myself by cheering every time one landed in the water of the inlet and was extinguished. “Ha! Take that, burning ember!”

Yesterday, I was glad to be part of the community of Mallacoota residents and tourists. Everybody stayed calm and capable in the face of danger. People walked around in the gloom, stomping on embers and hosing their caravans, and grabbing and stowing debris that was being thrown around by the evil, gusting wind.

The fire was like a monster, creeping up on us with a steady, relentless pace in the unnatural dark. It was the face of the nameless dread that lurks within all of our souls. It unleashed its powers in random directions, driven by its partner – a demonic wind that twisted and turned with no pattern or sense. The monster grew closer and brighter, reared up and looked at us … and then began to slide away. That evil wind took mercy on us, in the end.

Many houses here are gone. Places of love and joy and security are now tortured, twisted ruins. Our beautiful bush is a black wasteland of charred, skeletal trees. Where are the koalas, kangaroos, goannas, wallabies and birds? My heart weeps to think of all of these things.

I stayed at the campground all day and night, as it was too dangerous to return home. It’s no fun sleeping in a car with a dog and a very cranky cat, but we managed. I greeted the New Year with white wine in a plastic cup and some Pringles, while cuddling the dog and telling the cat at regular intervals to shut up. There were plenty of people around me I could have talked to, but I wanted to stay in the car with my animals, settling my thoughts and counting my blessings, even though I did not know yet if my little house had survived. The important things were right there in that car with me.

When I drove through the blackened landscape next morning and got to the area near my home, the neighbourhood seemed untouched. Could I be that lucky? I turned the corner to see my little shack was still standing, and in that moment, it looked like the most beautiful palace anyone could ever wish for.

That monster had roared through the bush and many parts of the town but had not reached the centre. It had grabbed up huge, random chunks as it went along, snatching at houses, sheds and trees, vehicles, boardwalks and jetties, and leaving them as black piles of smouldering debris.

I mourn the precious things that are destroyed, but the monster has not beaten us. The bush will regenerate and one day be beautiful again, and this community will strengthen and thrive. Everyone is helping everyone else and our CFA, who are mostly volunteers, and all the other emergency service personnel have been incredible. While my heart breaks for those who are without their homes, at this stage it seems no lives have been lost here, and for that I am full of gratitude.

But this is not yet over. As I write, my trusty battery-powered radio – my lifeline to the world – is still broadcasting fire warnings. Depending on what that evil wind decides to do in the coming days and weeks, we may face the monster again.