The fire crackled away. Indie and her three brothers sat around it toasting marshmallows and warming their hands. Henry, the youngest sibling, squirmed around on his chair while Charlie and Edward, the twins, playfully hit each other.
Indie was the middle child. She hated it. She could never be the boss, but she never had much attention. She always felt so insignificant to her parents.
After the clock struck ten, the children left the fire to go to bed. They said their last goodnights and all fell asleep. But during the night, Indie tossed and turned in her bed. She sat up to see smoke spilling through her bedroom door. Her wallpaper curling and alight. She couldn't breath.
She gasped for breath and opened her eyes. It was just a dream. But it felt so real. She made her way downstairs to find her family awaiting her arrival at the breakfast table. But no, she wouldn't tell them about her dream, it was only a nightmare.
However, something seemed obscure about her parents and siblings, as if they had seen a ghost. Indie decided not to ask, it was probably nothing.
