I was very scared at that day, the day that changed my life. It spread quickly throughout the house. I didn't know what to do, other than not to get burned. I was only seven at that time.
It was typical Saturday afternoon when this all took place. My parents were in the kitchen cooking a lovely pork chops dinner for some family members who were coming over. I went up to my room to play video games, Mario Kart to be exact. I then heard my father scream in pain. I dashed through my doorway and began to run down the stairs. I stopped in my tracks when I noticed flames at the bottom of the stair case, slowly making their way up. Frightened, I ran back into my room and curled into a ball in the corner furthest from my door. I was too scared to do anything. I just watched my blue walls turn black with char and my bed turn into ashes.
After about two horrifying minutes, a firefighter broke in through my window leaving glass shards on the floor next to me. he picked me up and carried me out of the burning house. Outside I found my mother crying as our house burned to the ground. I was later told my father died in the fire. I soon learned that the fire started because of a grease fire. My father, unknowing of the consequences, poured water on it.
That was the most tragic day of my life. the day I lost my father. It was heartbreaking for me when I heard my father was dead, as it would be for any other child. However I've gotten better now. My mother and I now live in another house in a different neighborhood. Plus I have been making new friends within my neighborhood and I've been accepted into an honors program at school. If only my father was here to see my success...