HONG KONG — A sudden blaze ripped through the towers of the Wang Fuk Court housing estate in the Tai Po district on Wednesday, leaving behind scenes of horror, heartbreak and disbelief. Flames and thick plumes of smoke burst into the sky around 2:51 p.m., quickly devouring scaffolding-wrapped towers and giving rise to a full-scale emergency that authorities later elevated to a No. 5 alarm, the highest alert, as fire swallowed multiple 31-storey blocks.
As dusk fell, rescue teams raced against time, water jets slicing through the smoke as embers rained down from above. By night, at least thirteen people had lost their lives. Among the victims was a firefighter who had risked everything trying to save others. Dozens more remain injured, some critically, and hundreds of residents were hurried to temporary shelters, many forced to abandon all they owned.
Witnesses describe dreadful moments of panic and helplessness. One elderly man, frantic with fear, clutched a photograph and wailed for his wife, believed to be trapped inside as flames surged floor after floor. Others watched in helpless horror as windows erupted one after another, black smoke billowing while fire engulfed corridors and staircases, leaving escape routes uncertain and perilous.
What made the inferno catastrophic was not just the flames but the bamboo scaffolding and nylon netting that covered the buildings. Those materials turned the exterior into tinder, enabling fire to spread rapidly from one block to the next. As flames climbed unchecked, what had started as a localized blaze turned into a nightmare engulfing entire towers, trapping residents inside as panic enveloped the estate.
Even as sirens wailed and fire engines lined the streets, the risk of collapsing scaffolding and falling debris kept rescue teams on edge. Entry into many parts of the buildings became impossible; firefighters struggled to fight the blaze from outside, using ladder trucks while thick smoke choked the air and flames roared from windows. Officials admitted that reaching some of the upper floors was unthinkable, too dangerous.
As shattered windows glowed with flame and residents huddled trembling in makeshift shelters, officials launched a massive effort: dozens of ambulances, hundreds of firefighters and support teams worked into the night. Roads were shut, public transport diverted, while nearby buildings were evacuated as an extra precaution. District authorities opened registration points for missing persons as the toll rose and families desperately searched for loved ones.
Local officials, shaken, spoke of unprecedented devastation. For many survivors the loss goes beyond physical, in a matter of hours, homes vanished in smoke, memories turned to ashes, and communities ruptured. Many of the residents were longtime inhabitants; the estate, part of a subsidised housing scheme, had sheltered thousands. Now they stand displaced, uncertain what awaits them.
The horrifying scale of destruction raises urgent and painful questions. How could a fire spread so quickly, engulfing multiple skyscrapers? Should bamboo scaffolding, long warned as a fire hazard, still be allowed around occupied buildings? As rescue efforts continue and investigators probe the cause, the tragedy stands as a stark warning of risk, neglect and the fragile thin line between normal life and disaster.
In the quiet that followed the chaos, grief-stricken survivors wandered amidst burned corridors and collapsed hallways, comforting each other in sorrow and shock. For many, nothing will ever be the same again.