A 10 feet fire rose from the house chimney one quiet night when the crickets forgot to sing. The flame licked its greedy lips as it leaned down to engulf its prey. No harm could come its way. The water sprouting from the firefighter's hoses were merely sprinkles of dust and the sound of terrified screams was music to its ear. Nothing could ever come in its way...nothing....
If I were to ever be victims of disasters such as this and could take one thing, my most beloved and cherished thing with me, I would take my brown leathered notebook which I treasured oh so well. It is not an ordinary notebook, and one could tell by first glance that this thing is special. It held many of my memories in the form of language, and those are the things I will ever get back. Ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment