A Personal Narrative on the Fire in Chicago

Category: Fire
Last Updated: 03 May 2023
Pages: 3 Views: 96


It was hot, too hot. My surroundings were slowly starting to melt: the trees, the houses, the sky and the pathway to my garage. It seemed that I was about to dissipate as well, becoming a puddle of glue-like substance left on the ground.

I was walking at crawling speed, everything was in slow motion. I was dying. I was heading towards my front door. I was just ten feet away but it felt like miles. I look up into the sky and it's a fiery bright red; I didn't have much more time. I get to the door and grab the handle. This excruciating pain ran all around my hand and up into my forearm. I jolt back and look at my hand, it was burnt so badly I could smell my skin and blood cooking. I pretend that it hadn't happened, I knew I had to get inside as fast as I could. I pick up a rock and knock off the handle and push the door open. It was pitch black.

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There was nothing but emptiness. I look all around me and see nothing. I yell and hear nothing back but my own echo. I start walking and have no clue where my destination might be. I hear something odd and look down, it was water. It covered my whole foot, it was nothing deeper than three inches. The smell is odd and rotten. I think to myself, "Where the heck am I?"

I keep on walking and eventually end up back at my front door; I had been walking in circles. "Great," I say to myself. "Now what do I do?" I open the door, expecting to be hit by a two hundred degree heat wave, but it was the total opposite. It was cloudy, but content. I walk outside and everything seems normal, except for the fact that there was nothing around me. Grass surrounded me and my house for hundreds of miles. This was not Chicago, where I lived for my whole entire life. I dazed off in confusion and then started crying. "Where was my family? Where am I?" I say to myself. I was all alone, or that's what I thought. I fall to the ground and lay face down in the grass. With my eyes clenched shut, I hear a voice. I instantly jolt my head up and look behind me, back into the cracked-open door of the house, and see a old, wrinkled man. His head was peeking behind the door, and he was waving his hand toward him. He was telling me to come inside. I get up slowly and start walking to the door. The man dissapeared. I was so afraid to be alone, I chased after him. "Wait!" I yell. I get inside the house and it was still pitch black. I turn around towards the door, I see him slam the door shut, and he was gone. I ran towards the door and banged my hands against it, screaming. I start running as fast as I could to try to find another way out. I was screaming, crying, begging whatever-it-was to let me go. I get tired and come to a stop, and the man's voice appears again. Something moves in the water below me and I kneel down. I stare deeply into the black water. The noise gets louder but I can't find myself to move. Instantly, I feel something grab my neck and pull me down under. I suddenly start falling into nowhere and it goes dark.

I jolt upwards. I was in my bed, in my room, where it was actually light. It was just a dream. I could smell breakfast and my father's voice just down the stairs. I hurry out of bed, get dressed, and go downstairs to see them. Everything was normal. My mother yelled "Makenna, hurry up and eat and brush your teeth. You are going to be late for school."

I get ready, grab my backpack, and hop into our car. My mother pulls out of the driveway and I stare outside of the window and watch the trees and other houses go by. We get at a stop sign and my heart stops. I couldn't say anything to my parents, they wouldn't believe me. There he was, the man in my dream, standing right next to my window, staring deeply into my eyes. My mother drives off, and I look back and watch him watch us drive away. I turned around, looking forward into the back of the passengers seat, and wonder when I was going to see the man again.

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A Personal Narrative on the Fire in Chicago. (2023, May 03). Retrieved from https://phdessay.com/a-personal-narrative-on-the-fire-in-chicago/

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