Sunday Scribblings (Fire)

This week's word is “Fire”:

The flames tore through the single story dwelling at an alarming speed, leaving no time for me to save myself, or those that I loved. I would slink under my bed and wait for the inevitable, terrified of the pain I was sure to endure. It always ended with me crying and calling out for my mother.

That dream haunted me from the age of seven well into my teens. It was brought on by a short lived obsession with matches, a story by a neighbor of a terrible blaze the consumed her household, killing all inside, and pictures of burn victims placed strategically throughout my bedroom. It was a tough love approach taken by desperate parents after I lit the before mentioned neighbors backyard ablaze on my brother second birthday. Thankfully for all involved, it put itself out before any real damage was done.

After said incident, and the subsequent parental reaction, I never looked at fire the same. I became obsessed with checking the fire-alarms (to my mothers dismay), carefully planned escape routes, and consumed any and all preparedness manual available to a small child. My youth, from that point forward, was devoid of anything remotely capable of making even a spark.

Now I am still fascinated by fire, and the power it holds, but now have an alarm in each room, and plan endlessly my escape if it is so needed.