I woke up to the sound of crackling flames. Why did mom and dad have the fire on at this type of night? Was the thought in my mind before I smelled burning. I was only four... so I cried. Mom hurried into my room and plucked me out of my bed. She shushed me with reassuring words. I was a smart 4-year old though, and I knew that is wasn't happy, and fun, and that the fire was just dancing. I knew something was wrong. I went along with mom's words though. She took me down the stairs, and I got my first glimpse of badness. My favorite stuffed animal was charred, and instead of vibrant pink, it was black and gray. I cried some more.
"We'll get you a new one, I promise," Mom whispered. Dad joined us, and we left the house together into the street. I heard the fire alarm blaring, but my parents didn't look very worried. I tried to remember the fire. Orange and Yellow youngest o flame had engulfed our living room, making things melt. The smell was bad, and the smoke still stung my eyes. Three red trucks pulled up in our driveway, and some firemen got out of the trucks. They rushed into the house, nodding to us as they went in. I heard spraying of water, and a tear dripped down my cheek. I knew our old house was gone. The smell of stopped smoke filled the air, and I dried more. Mom patted me on the head. As long as I had my parents, I would be happy.
YOU ARE READING
A Sweeping Fire
General FictionLee was only 4 when the fire came, Lee was only 6 when her parents died. Lee was only 7 when her foster parents left her on the streets. Lee was only 8 when she found a small match-box. Lee's life was a disaster, and she knew by then that it could o...
