I'm Brenda Chesley.
One of the worst things that can happen to you is that you wake up one morning to find that your parents are gone, and the car in the garage below your room is on fire. Oh, and that day also happens to be your birthday.
I woke up on that terrible day day to a cat rubbing against my cheek.
"Get off Rose," I murmured, and reached out a hand to push the cat away. Rose let out a meow of protest, and began kneading the bed impatiently, her claws poking me in my chest.
Reaching over sleepily, I clicked on the light and pushed my long hair out of my eyes.
"All right, enough," I told the cat. "I'm getting up."
But instead of shutting up, as I'd hoped, Rose began crying even louder than before. She started to weave around my feet as I bent to put on my slippers. I picked her up.
"What is it?" I stroaked the cat's ruffled fur. Rose squirmed and leapt out of my arms. She ran over to the closed door and scratched at it, then meowed again.
I stared at her. The cat flap on the door was wide open, why didn't she just go? I felt frustrated and a little confused as I walked over and tapped on it. Rose rushed out, then darted back in again. Exasperated, I grabbed her up and pulled the door open. Then I screamed.
The hallway was filled with smoke; thick, choking clouds were rolling toward me, blotting out everything. For a moment, I only stared speechlessly at it, hardly able to believe it was real. Then I dropped to the ground, and closing my eyes and mouth tightly, I began to feel around for the handle of a door. There had to be a way out, I would die if I couldn't escape. Don't panic, I told myself, but I could already feel the desperation sweeping over me. What would happen to me if there wasn't?
Rose nudged my side. I felt near my hip and picked her up. I couldn't speak, but I ran my fingers over her fur, trying to transfer to her whatever little calm I had. I knew that she could sense we were in danger; the hair along her back was standing on end, and as I felt her tail, I realized that it had swollen to twice its size.
There was no point comforting her now. We would have to run. Without another thought, I stood up quickly and opened my eyes. That's when I saw it: the fire.
It was leaping wildly against the ceiling, almost eight feet tall, its flames roaring dangerously only yards from where I stood, frozen with fear. The fire was blocking the exit; I was trapped.
I hardly noticed anything as I reached behind me and picked up Rose. There was nothing I could do. If I called for help, nobody would hear me. I'd left my phone downstairs the night before, and I knew that my dad wouldn't be home. He worked a night shift at the local hospital, and he usually only got back around eight the next morning. I was going to die. Because of a house fire.
It's all your fault! I screamed silently at the flames. I'm never going to see my dad again and you don't even care! I was so upset that I didn't think about the fact that I was shouting at something that wasn't alive; I was beyond reasoning now, and it was in that moment, as I stood there staring at it, that the fire suddenly gave a loud hiss, and a shape began to form out of the licking flames.
First, a pair of golden eyes, deep-set and glowing like two burning hot coals, appeared from inside its fiery depths, and I let out a scream. Instantly, I felt a column of smoke rush into my throat, and I began to cough violently; water filled my eyes and for a moment, I was blinded. When I looked up again, the transformation was almost complete.
With a hissing crack, the fire twisted into the shape of a huge head, and two white-hot sparks became its nostrils. Flaring them in and out as it took in great breaths of smoke, the creature turned its head and its eyes met mine, flaming and golden.
It was a dragon.
My legs felt weak under me; I knew I was going to pass out. Turning away from the fire, I fell against the wall, and as I leaned on it, I felt something small and round slip into my hand: it was the handle of a door.
With a soft click, the door swung open and I pulled myself inside, closing it quickly behind me. On my left, I could vaguely make out the shape of a phone lying on a table only a few feet away.
Slowly, blindly, my head spinning faster than a top, I walked over, dialed, and then fell unconscious to the floor.
Outside the door, there was a low, hissing sound, as the head of a golden dragon melted silently into the flames.
One of the worst things that can happen to you is that you wake up one morning to find that your parents are gone, and the car in the garage below your room is on fire. Oh, and that day also happens to be your birthday.
I woke up on that terrible day day to a cat rubbing against my cheek.
"Get off Rose," I murmured, and reached out a hand to push the cat away. Rose let out a meow of protest, and began kneading the bed impatiently, her claws poking me in my chest.
Reaching over sleepily, I clicked on the light and pushed my long hair out of my eyes.
"All right, enough," I told the cat. "I'm getting up."
But instead of shutting up, as I'd hoped, Rose began crying even louder than before. She started to weave around my feet as I bent to put on my slippers. I picked her up.
"What is it?" I stroaked the cat's ruffled fur. Rose squirmed and leapt out of my arms. She ran over to the closed door and scratched at it, then meowed again.
I stared at her. The cat flap on the door was wide open, why didn't she just go? I felt frustrated and a little confused as I walked over and tapped on it. Rose rushed out, then darted back in again. Exasperated, I grabbed her up and pulled the door open. Then I screamed.
The hallway was filled with smoke; thick, choking clouds were rolling toward me, blotting out everything. For a moment, I only stared speechlessly at it, hardly able to believe it was real. Then I dropped to the ground, and closing my eyes and mouth tightly, I began to feel around for the handle of a door. There had to be a way out, I would die if I couldn't escape. Don't panic, I told myself, but I could already feel the desperation sweeping over me. What would happen to me if there wasn't?
Rose nudged my side. I felt near my hip and picked her up. I couldn't speak, but I ran my fingers over her fur, trying to transfer to her whatever little calm I had. I knew that she could sense we were in danger; the hair along her back was standing on end, and as I felt her tail, I realized that it had swollen to twice its size.
There was no point comforting her now. We would have to run. Without another thought, I stood up quickly and opened my eyes. That's when I saw it: the fire.
It was leaping wildly against the ceiling, almost eight feet tall, its flames roaring dangerously only yards from where I stood, frozen with fear. The fire was blocking the exit; I was trapped.
I hardly noticed anything as I reached behind me and picked up Rose. There was nothing I could do. If I called for help, nobody would hear me. I'd left my phone downstairs the night before, and I knew that my dad wouldn't be home. He worked a night shift at the local hospital, and he usually only got back around eight the next morning. I was going to die. Because of a house fire.
It's all your fault! I screamed silently at the flames. I'm never going to see my dad again and you don't even care! I was so upset that I didn't think about the fact that I was shouting at something that wasn't alive; I was beyond reasoning now, and it was in that moment, as I stood there staring at it, that the fire suddenly gave a loud hiss, and a shape began to form out of the licking flames.
First, a pair of golden eyes, deep-set and glowing like two burning hot coals, appeared from inside its fiery depths, and I let out a scream. Instantly, I felt a column of smoke rush into my throat, and I began to cough violently; water filled my eyes and for a moment, I was blinded. When I looked up again, the transformation was almost complete.
With a hissing crack, the fire twisted into the shape of a huge head, and two white-hot sparks became its nostrils. Flaring them in and out as it took in great breaths of smoke, the creature turned its head and its eyes met mine, flaming and golden.
It was a dragon.
My legs felt weak under me; I knew I was going to pass out. Turning away from the fire, I fell against the wall, and as I leaned on it, I felt something small and round slip into my hand: it was the handle of a door.
With a soft click, the door swung open and I pulled myself inside, closing it quickly behind me. On my left, I could vaguely make out the shape of a phone lying on a table only a few feet away.
Slowly, blindly, my head spinning faster than a top, I walked over, dialed, and then fell unconscious to the floor.
Outside the door, there was a low, hissing sound, as the head of a golden dragon melted silently into the flames.
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