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The Fire

The Fire

Imogen Andrews


Something was wrong. My eyes were stinging so much that it was unbearable to open them, my nostrils were burning with the smell of smoke, I was scorching hot. There was a fire. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. I had to act fast before the building collapsed. Fumbling for the latch, I started yanking at the jammed window. It eventually opened, there were flashing blue lights and sirens. There were voices screaming at me to jump. My mind went dizzy with fright. I teetered on the window-sill, closed my eyes and made the leap of my life.


Things were never the same after the fire. We got a beautiful new house with a big garden but mum was always crying. I was always trying to sidle up to her and tell her every thing was all right but she just seemed to look through me like thin air. I wondered what the matter was with her. I suddenly felt a pang running through my chest, mum was always happy and laughing, but ever since the fire she had been different and I was worried she might be really ill.

It was also the same at school. Nobody noticed me and when I tried to speak to someone they just ignored me. It was like I had some terrible disease that nobody wanted to catch. I felt terrible, not even the teachers would answer me. I did all my work correctly but the teacher didn’t even notice I was there.

It all changed that day, when I woke up tired in the morning and went into Mums room to ask her where we were going. Of course I knew that I was going to get no response but it was still worth a try. When I entered, I didn’t see what I was expecting, Mum was sitting on her bed wearing black with her sorrowful head in her hands.

Mum suddenly cried out “ I’ve got to face it today, it can’t wait any longer.”

‘Face what?’ I wondered out loud.

Mum wailed out again,“ The grave, I can’t bear it.”

Oh. Dear Grandma.

I felt strangely dreamy today and a bit light headed but I took no notice. I sloped off to my room then started to put on my best black clothes just like mum was doing.

The whole family, with watery eyes, slumped into the car. I swiftly followed, still feeling quite peculiar. When we approached the church graveyard, I noticed a new small child’s grave. ‘How sad,’ I thought silently to my self. It was so strange that the family were walking towards the grave. I tried to remember a child who might be dead but no one came to my head. We were now so close to the grave I could read what it said. My name… ‘Elsie May.’

That peculiar feeling overwhelmed me. I felt … I was fading … fading away … away.


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