One sunny afternoon in the warm Orange City, I was just a curious little boy intrigued with the orange flame of a lighter. At the time, I had no idea that such a tiny flame could set a whole house on fire, let alone burn mine down.

I was randomly rummaging through a cupboard in my boring room when I find a slim, brown stick with the top half a little fatter than the bottom. I was so curious to know what it was, until it hit me, maybe fire might do something to this narrow stick. It looked just like one of those sticks that my grandma put out to make the house smell nice.

I made sure no one was around for me to do this. I felt like I was on a secret mission and I couldn't mess things up. All the practice that I had done flicking the bright orange lighter in my bed. All those nights starting into the flame. I had to know what the slim brown  stick smelt like.

I grab the faded black lighter that I had swiped from the counter. I was sitting in my room ready to start the mission. I flick the lighter, pull it slowly towards the brown stick and BOOM! The stick that I had mistaken for an insent was a sparkler. I began to panic as I tried to put the spark out with my baggy black shirt and it bursts into flames. At that moment I had no idea my shirt was on fire, until my heroic dad smelt smoke and ran into the room ripping my shirt from my body, which ended up putting the bright yellow flame out.                              

The only other thing that I can remember from this experience ie the day after,when my dad took my to the old fire department made from stone where they gave me the full tour and explained to me to not mess with fire. I also remember my dad holding the burnt black shirt with holes in the front and a colorful book with all the rules of fire safety, telling me he's glad I'm alive.