The House on Fire
That cold night of December 2004 had left behind a memory which will stay in my mind for a never ending period of time. That night was not the same as the rest of the days in my life. Instead of going to bed, that night I was standing in the middle of the road, in complete terror. My heartbeat was accelerating with fear and tears were rolling down my cheeks as I saw Emily taken away by the ambulance. The house, which I was standing in front of, was burning as fire engulfed it from all sides. There was fire everywhere. The roof was on fire, the doors and the windows were on fire, fire was even coming out of the house through various openings, looking like a fire-breathing dragon was inside the house, puffing fire. The flames burned deep red and amber, almost livid purple as I saw various firefighters trying to put out the fire. Nothing inside was likely to survive the fire. Flames were licking up in the air with the wind, trying to catch something else on fire, and finding nothing but air, disappearing into the windy night, like disappointed flutters. Everything was happening too fast. During a minute or less, fire had spread across the entire landing. I was petrified by the sight of the fire, which crawled lizard like up the house. The house was exploding in yellow blue flames that quickly turned orange. I was trembling and whimpering softly as I saw Emily’s mother sitting on the ground, helplessly. She was crying out of despair. Her reaction had made me even more scared. I wanted someone to console me by telling me that nothing will happen to Emily. She was my best friend. We had spent seven years of our childhood together and I did not want to lose her. I was praying silently while Emily’s mother had lost all the hope of her survival. I had never felt so