the english magazine - St John's

massive gulp of air, filling my lungs until I thought they would burst, and shoved open
the door.
Black smoke poured down on me, covering my face like a curtain and engulfing me in its
long, outstretched fingers. I shivered under its grasp, wary not to open my mouth.
I crawled forwards.
2 seconds.
I made my way through the thick billowing smoke that now clung to the walls of my
house, taking over. My hair was sticking to my head as the heat of the nearby flames
warmed my face. It was like sitting by a bonfire, but much worse.
9 seconds.
The smoke was now finding its way into my system, through my nose, in through the
sides of my mouth. It tickled my throat, making me splutter and cough. It made my
insides feel like they were made of black gunk, sticky and oozing all over.
14 seconds.
I reached the stairs and started to make my way up them on my knees, like a pilgrim at
Canterbury. My legs ached and were burning from rubbing against the carpet. I looked
down at my hands which now looked like my sister had coloured them in with black felt
tip on one of her arty crafty days.
My sister. That’s where I was going. Painfully hauling myself up the stairs with my charcoal
covered hands, I reached the landing.
20 seconds.
“Where’s her room?”, I thought to myself, my own home feeling like a distant memory. I
glanced around.
Left
Left
Then I remembered.
Straight ahead
I advanced towards her room, dragging myself with all my might.
Hero (Garrett)
Issue 1 January 2012
Right
Right
15