My Burning Memory

Prologue

     At the age of ten, I watched my manor burn to the ground along with the surrounding land. I cried out in anguish as I attempted to go back into the manor, yet my step-father refused to release his firm grip on me. He, too, was crying over our precious house and my precious mother; she was all I had left, of family, in England.

     "Mother!"I cried and struggled in my step-father's grip. I felt myself being picked up and cradled in his arms, attempting to comfort the both of us.

     I watched, in horror, as the manor began to collapse, the tremendous fire growing brighter and larger. As a young girl, and not knowing better, I cried her name over and over as I reached out with a tear-streaked face. I screamed horrendously as I beat against the firm arms that kept me from sprinting into the wreckage.

     Before I realized it, I was placed in the butler's arms. I watched, curiously and upset, as my step-father sprinted to the burning manor in attempt to rescue my mother. I didn't, and couldn't, cry because I lost everything.

     Mother was burning alive, our priceless and personal belongings were recklessly destroyed, and I lost the file that contained information on my unknown father. Mother was going to tell me, today, since I had no clue who he was nor that he existed. Seeing as to the manor burning, along with my mother and everything else, my opportunity was destroyed.

     I faced the butler's chest and silently sulked, this was the worst birthday by far. He gingerly stroked my raven-black hair as I clutched onto him tightly, refraining from speaking or making any actions whatsoever. 

    Watching the orange-streaked sky, I succumbed to the welcoming darkness and fell fast asleep. I could remember this painstaking day like it was yesterday, the feelings of: heartbreak, despair, anger, and confusion never left me.

     This was the day that left a mark on me for good, t'was the day that I always despised and was disgusted by: my birthday.