A Beautiful Place to Die

Black Lungs

He ran into the ablaze building, and immediately the black cloud began an assault on his lungs. He dropped to his hands and knees and began to crawl towards the bedroom. Coughing and wheezing, he carefully made his way up the stairs. He looked back for a moment and saw the front door open. The grass was green and the sun was shining. He could turn around now. But no. He couldn't. He turned back to his task and hurriedly crawled up the stairs. He made a left at the landing and found a door with stickers of horses and rainbows plastered on it. He reached his hand up and grabbed the doorknob. He immediately screamed in pain as the metal seared his palm. He gritted his teeth and opened the door. There, on the floor, was a girl no more than seven years old. She was wearing pink pajamas with white spots on them. He scurried to her and put his ear to her mouth. She wasn't breathing. He felt her chest to see if her heart was still beating. Nothing. He picked her up and placed her head in his lap and cried deeply. He remembered taking her to school every day. He remembered how every night she would say, "Goodnight, best Daddy." And now he wanted to forget. He sat there, tears streaming down his face. And he waited to die. All because he flicked ash onto his carpet.

Smoking kills.