It seemed so long ago, the fire, the burning, and the screaming. I could not see my mother through all the smoke. It was a terrible experience I went through. I hope never to go though it again. Let's see...how did it begin? I could go back...no back further to tell the complete story.
             It seemed like months ago. I was sitting on the floor in the living room of my house. The little one story house had been all I had known form as far back as I could remember. I loved that house. I was sitting on the floor playing with my stuffed teddy bear when my father came in from the cold. It was December outside and I could see the white ground as he came inside. The blast from the wind made me shiver. My father carried with him some brown logs. Yea, he was going to build a fire. I loved fires, the way they warm me, and the tingling on my back from sitting on the hearth too long. Today was a little different when my father had a good fire going, he went to sit down in his favorite chair and smoke a cigarette. I felt something looking at me as I watched my father and mother talk about things I did not understand.
             I turned around to lights and dancing. I never knew that fire was so wonderful; the colors of red, green and yellow could hypnotize my senses. A good hour went by before my mother's call of dinner broke the spell. That night I dreamed of being in a fire, the warmth and colors surrounding me, and dancing with the flames to an ethereal rhythm. After breakfast the next morning I stole away to the pantry where my father kept his matches, I had to watch those dancers again. After "borrowing" several packs of matches, I ran into my room and locked the door, giggling at my mission. There room was still dark because my window faced away from the sun. I sat in the middle of my floor and opened one the books.
             All those little black and red matches just stood there like soldiers ready to go to war. ...