A College Seeress' Diary

Be Still

Dear Jesus,

All the girls who were on my block rushed out on hearing my scream, mostly in their casual clothes or nightdresses.

The alarm was evident on their faces.
Some came with buckets of water when they heard my gasps of 'Fire!', not that they knew what to do with it.

The smoke was too thick. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

Coughing and spluttering, most of them scampered away and raced downstairs to get help.

My mind was in overdrive. Panic mode raised to power hundred.

Is this a gas fire or an electric fire?

Has something exploded?

Oh dear Lord, where's Portia?

Memories flashed of a similar experience at home when the gas, which was supposedly leaking, exploded and decimated our entire kitchen.

In any case, using water to try to quench the fire, whether gas or electric, would be utterly disastrous, I knew.

The only solution would be to find the source of the smoke and nip it in the bud before it erupted into a full-fledged flame if that hadn't happened already.

Trying to play the brave girl, I ventured into the thick cloud of smoke, coughing even though I covered my mouth and nose with the tip of my blouse.

It was a stupid decision, one taken out of impulse. But I was like, what if Portia is in there, knocked out unconscious or something?
What of all my important documents, my laptop, my stuff, esp this diary?

The girls and a few guys (their male friends who came visiting) who were there, were already shouting for everyone to evacuate the block.
I heard a distant shout for someone to call the fire service.

I took a desperate look around.
Portia was not in. Thank God.

Through my now-foggy glasses, I saw faintly that the smoke was thickest and emanating from the kitchenette.

The situation became clear.
The electric cooker was on and had melted almost half of the aluminium pot that was on it.

Portia obviously forgot to switch off the cooker before she left the room.

I ran out, fast as flash, hacking out coughs and flew downstairs. I shakily told Mrs Lila to help us switch off the power supply immediately.

Jesus, Jesus, please, don't let this get out of hand.

I tried to remember your assurance that you are always with me. It was hard to do at that moment.
I was so riled up.

Mrs Lila ran as fast as she could manage and disconnected the electricity supply to our block.
She wasn't the only warden around. A few other men and security guards were there, but she was the one to respond fastest.

Some minutes later, the smoke billowing upstairs reduced.

Then, the chatter and questions began.

"I had been smelling something roasting but I didn't know where it was coming from," a wide-eyed brunette said.

"Queen, see how you wanted to be supergirl, bringing that bucket and all," one girl tried to joke, nudging her roommate/friend.

"Me? I heard fire and I just ran for dear life!" the one called Queen said, slapping her palms together.

"Did you leave your food on fire?" the first accusation hit me square in the face.

Oh no, it wasn't me. It was my roomie, alright.
And she isn't even here to experience this trauma.