My bedroom door suddenly flung open. My mother rushed in and grabbed me by the arm. “What’s happening?!” I asked. “The house is on fire!” she yelled. The smell of smoke suddenly filled my head. I struggled to breathe as we bounded down the stairs.
My mother’s firm grip made my arm start aching. The plush, red carpet underneath my feet felt warm and soft. It sloped all the way down the old cedar wood stairs. It was the carpet that was my father’s last gift to my mother.
It was very special to me and her, for it was all we had to remember him. Just the thought of it comforted me. I wanted to take it with me but seeing our lives flash before our eyes, I knew I couldn’t. We reached the front door and flung ourselves outside.
We found ourselves disturbing a very peaceful night. The only sound came from our house crumbling down. We were both sobbing with grief and despair. The beloved house I had lived in all my life, was now gone.
I couldn’t bear it and looked away. Then I heard my mother gasp and exclaim, “look!” I turned my head and saw something that made me gasp too. There in the middle of the ruins of our house, was the old cedar wood stairs and our wonderful carpet.
Submitted by: Sadie Holt SIS Primary