Burn

The child was weeping. Her bed was on fire. She raced into the bathroom and filled a cup with water. As soon as she got back, the fire was larger. Her whole room was on fire. She was home alone, parents out at work. The child raced down the stairs, only to tumble on the broken stair. She fell into a small puddle of water left over from her muddy boots. The fire was trembling down the stairs. She tried to open the front door, but it wouldn't budge. She heard voices. Voices coming from the other side of the door. She screamed to them, as loudly as she could. The laughed. It was a familiar voice. It was the neighbor boys. Those nasty kids set her bedroom, or whole house, on fire. She sprinted for the backdoor. It was locked, but from the outside. She was trapped. The windows were made bulletproof, for she lived in the city. She tried to open a window, but they were sealed shut. The fire grew bigger, and closer to the child. She was trapped in the corner of the living room, hidden behind a large vase filled with counterfeit flowers. The fire was wrapping her. She screeched in twinge. Then she didn’t make a noise, for she was lifeless.