There was a fire

by Anesia Bolling

There was a fire. It burned wildly across our town Chicago. Like an angered wolf it attacked the houses and poorly made streets encasing many in immenent {imminent} death. The buildings caved into themselves even the hotel that was said to be fireproof was burning down…ironic isn't it.

My mother and me lived directly in the middle of town so as soon as the fire, we hear these screams started{ing}. We ran for the outskirts {of town?} hoping to outrun the violent wave of fire. Running on the wood roads were dangerous but the only way out. My mother grabbed tightly to my hand with her pale as snow finger and held on with a death grip. Behind her I could only see ling black hair that look like an abyss, it just made you want to put your hands in and see if you would pull out a hidden mystery. It reflected the fire truck red and sunshine yellow flames that licked across walls of buildings and the wooden ground. I didn't have to see her face to know that her beautiful forest green eyes were frantic, worrying if she could keep her only child, only daughter, safe.

The screams were so loud. People yelling racial slurs strongly accusing the Irish for the flames, taking all of our personal belongings. Screams of anguish as people died or disappeared. The whimpers of little children that are running around blindly yelling for their mothers and fathers.

We finally made it to the outskirts of town where the fire seemed to curve the other way and stay above the town. Like God was punishing us for a sin we didn't know we committed. Seeing as we had nowhere to go, with only us being our only family, we found a cluster of full trees with apples on their stems near a long stream of crystal blue water reflecting the moon which seems to welcome us to stay.

We stayed in this bush for about three days eating apples and drinking from the stream before we noticed the fire and screams if anger and anguish had vanished.

Curiosity got the best of us making us leave our little haven and go back to the place we once called home.

Right before we entered the city a girl who looked to be ten sat alone with a dress that was tattered and dingy, barely holding on to her small frame as she clutched unto a teddy bear with a missing eye for dear life. “Mommy’s gone,” she whimpered and began to wail loudly as the realization of the matter finally sunk into her innocent mind. Looking towards my mother my identical twin, we share a {an} unspoken conversation with are {our} eyes. The little girl is only three years younger than me so of course we can’t, we won’t leave her.

“You can live with us if you’d like,” I say calmly, letting my voice slide over her like a silk scarf and calming her into a barely audible whimper.

As we look at her she instantly warps her arms around me and I pick her up like an infant. I fell in love with her when I seen her long mid-back golden curls and her precious mint green eyes.

After making a new friend we search the city and notice there is barely anyone left. Barely anything left. People with tear-stained faces looking through a city, which is now rubble for those who did or didn’t make it out. Screams of anger across the rubble, yelling, “Kill the Irish!” makes us stop in our tracks.

“I stop to ponder the possible future. There is a high possibility that a war between thee white people and the Irish might occur. Sadness. Blood. Death……..

“Mama, let’s go back to the stream and live there,” I say frantically.

“She looks me in the eye and I can tell she come {came} to the same conclusion as me. So she turns and walks in the direction we came from. I follow willingly.

We then go home and live by the stream, making a house where we create our own little city. Of me, my mother and new sister. 

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