It was in the middle of winter on a dark smoggy night. Chills were calmly running through the house. In and out of my room they swept like a quiet ghost silently coming and mysteriously going. As I lie awake in my bed thinking of what the next day would bring, my eyes start to grow heavy as I doze off. In the distance, I hear a faint booming sound. Soon it starts getting louder and louder, and still louder until I could hear nothing but the noise. I was in a state of shock from the deafening sound and ran to my window as fast as my big feet would carry me. As I looked out my window, I could see nothing but fire and smoke. I felt my lungs inhale a thick cloudy material, and I had a terrifying thought of my brother. I made a mad dash to his room and found no one, but in the distance, I could hear faint voices of terror calling my name. It sounded as if it were coming from outside, so I ran as fast as my soft smoke covered slippers would carry me. Down the long steep stairs and outside I went onto the cold, dew covered front lawn. I found the rest of my family standing along with my neighbors and friends doused in their night attire. I stood and watched in horror as the red-hot flames licked the side of my house and engulfed the upstairs. We had no idea what had happened.
The next morning I awoke, my mind still cloudy and in mystery as to what had happened. I rushed downstairs to see my mother and father cooking the normal morning breakfast. I picked up the dew covered paper and began reading the ink-smeared lines. Finally, the article I had been looking for, consisting of a story that a house not to far from ours had burnt down. The noise the night before had been the house burning down and the natural gas line exploding. Later in the article, it said that our block would not have gas until the line was repaired.
I ran to my mom and started babbling so fast that I sounded like a two year old just learning to speak his first words.