When I close my eyes I can
still hear the screams of my parents and my little sister. Screams that
were more animal than human, screams of terror, screams of pain, screams
of indescribable pain. I will never be able to forget how those screams
echoed around my head as the fire burnt more and more fiercely. The noise
of the flames licking at the wooden struts and supports of the house
couldn’t block out the sound of my whole family in agony as they tried to
reach me. Forever barricaded apart from me. Separated by a wall of fire so
fierce that they were unable to get near enough for me to see their faces.
Then there was the silence as
I believe inevitability set in and they realised that we would never be
together again. Tears ran down my face as I realised that I could never
kiss my mummy, hug my daddy or tell my little sister that I loved her. I
was going to be so alone that I didn’t know how I would survive.
Then the screams started
again. Louder and more animal-like. I don’t even remember whose voice I
could hear. I didn’t recognise the sound coming from them, only the
intense emotion of pain as their skin started to burn. The smell was worse
than anything I had ever smelt before. Through the smoke and fire I could
smell the skin and flesh alight as I closed my eyes trying to block it
out.
I watched until the fire burnt
itself out. There was nothing else I could do. I watched until the ashes
stopped smouldering. I didn’t look for anyone. There was no point. I was
alone.
The day had started so
wonderfully. The log cabin that my parents had taken my sister and I to
was set deep in the woods, miles from anywhere. This was our first holiday
together since my sister was born four years ago. We were going to go
fishing, canoeing. Daddy was going to show me wild animals while Jody,
bless her shy little heart, was going to stay home with mummy and cook us
supper for when we returned.
A long day of trekking through
the bushes looking for squirrels and insects was brilliant but before long
I had fallen asleep and my daddy had carried me back on his shoulders. I
might be seven years old but I am still light enough for being carried. I
was half-asleep when daddy put me down on top of the bunk beds in our room
and covered me with a blanket. He kissed my forehead and left me. That was
the last time I saw him.
After the fire I felt angry
about what had happened. I blamed my daddy for being careless enough to
allow a fire to start. I am sure that the log fire was left unattended and
a log simply fell out of the fire and rolled against a chair or something.
It’s been a few years now and I don’t blame anyone. I was silly to put the
blame on my daddy. I still get upset when I remember how I used to think
of him.
I know that we can’t go back
in time and stop what has happened. I wish we could because there is so
much I want to say to my lost family. I want to tell them that I love them
very much and never stopped. I want to tell my daddy that I don’t blame
him. I want to tell my sister that I was sorry for pulling her hair so
many times. I just want to hug my mummy and tell her that I love her.
I guess all I want to tell
them is that I am OK and safe now and in a place where I can’t be hurt
again and they shouldn’t feel sad and miss me and to carry on and enjoy
their lives.
