Narrative Essay About The Fire

What the fire left behind
I hadn’t been able to keep up the barrier between my thoughts and scene of the devouring flames holding us hostage under the dining table, the hot and steadily rising temperature, the fearless expression on her face and her tight hold around my shoulders as she chanted “It’s gonna be ok, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere”.
All around was immense blackness. A rush of flames roared up the windows determined to devour, A loud bang followed soon after. Bright orange flames illuminated the entrance where the door had once stood. It was but a charred coal now.
If there was ever to be ‘hell’ I was sure in that moment, it would feel like this. There was no sign of the blinds that had once covered the window. The floor was getting too hot to stand; it ignited pain, shooting through the bare soles of my feet. The ceiling was a lurking cloud of mist slowly devouring the white ceiling.

The flames radiated aggressiveness, anger and hostility. Breathing gradually because a chore, I could almost taste the bitterness of smoke on my tongue, as my lungs filled up with smoke and prepared to exhale. I couldn’t take this much longer.
The table was our only refuge, our island, the only thing standing between us and the flames that wanted to devour everything in its path. I kept my eyes on her face, one breath at a time I told myself. I knew we couldn’t keep this up much longer, where was the help? The heat was penetrating, the flames intimidating, I fought against the instinct to panic.

Light-headedness began to take over, the flames moved in slow motion as if taking its time because it knew it’d have me. It was inevitable, as if the smoke had seeped into my brain, making everything seem surreal.

Mum was so many people at once, yet she was always in control; I vowed I would be like her someday. She couldn’t have been a better mum if she tried, but that in no way meant that I had it easy, When I did wrong she was as sharp as a patrol officer; once I’d lied about a grade I got on my maths test and a year later I was still stuck being tutored by the town’s most mind-numbing man, Mr. Benson.
Mum took care of her garden as if it was her second child, she’d always wanted a big family, however her dreams for that big family had long gone and since I was an only child, her garden was like taking care of another child for her. More than anything, I loved my mum because no matter what she felt or wanted, I knew I was loved. We’d always been close. As dorky as it was, we both still wore our matching bracelets.

Earlier she’d been outside doing the routine gardening. It was almost a ritual, and I’d only set the candles so I could surprise her; reading a pointless magazine while neck deep in a warm bath was her way of relaxing, caching an episode of 90210 was mine. I wasn’t meant to leave the bathroom, I’d only been on the phone for what felt like no more than 10 minutes, but I guess I’d been wrong, I wasn’t meant to forget, By the time I smelt a slow rise of smoke, a dark mist was coming forming under my door. This wasn’t how tonight was meant to happen but it did.

I felt my throat dry up in less

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