Blaze.

It all started when I was walking home from school on a Wednesday afternoon. It was winter so I was cold, so cold that it made your nose run and your eyed stream. I wrapped my scarf tighter round mg neck and pulled up the hood on my old winter coat as it began to snow, lightly but it would never settle, it never did, because of all the rain that was still in puddles and on the roads splashing people as cars would zoom past. It was beginning to get dark because it alway took so long to get home when I walked, no one ever came to pick me up from school; mum and sad say it's just because there're working but I think it's because they don't care.

By now it was really dark, almost pitch black, and it's starting to get colder and colder. I stop to think: would there be any harm in stopping to shelter in that empty house over the road, I've been passing it nearly every day since I was 11. Surely there would be no harm! I quickly ran across the road and stand outside the house for what seems like hours, but according to my watch, only minutes.

Then I remembered I ought to tell mum where I was. Not that she'd be bothered. I picked up the courage to open the door; it was a dark door with a faint stained glass window of a picture I couldn't quite make but it looked rather peculiar; also on the door was some old graffiti that looked like someone has possibly tried to wipe it off but it was still there, faded, I had never noticed it before though.
As I opened the door it creaked like a door would in a horror movie. I stepped into the house as if I was stepping into a freezing cold swimming pool on holiday. It was a big house, with dark, heavy wood paneling running like tracks around the room. This house seemed extremely familiar though I had never been inside it before. I walked around the house the familiarity unnerved me. I was drawn to the big, wide stair case that cut right through the middle of the imposing house, how did I know that the fourth step of the stairs would creak like a bending branch in the wind? I carried on up the stairs as if I knew where I was going.

When I reach the top if the stairs something in my mind is telling me to go into the front bedroom. What was that? Tap, tap tap.... Of course it was the oak tree on the window! There was a desk in the corner of the room with a lamp shining on a newspaper. I picked up the paper the date was 1961 and there staring at me right in the face was a picture of myself with the head line next to it:

" GIRL DIES IN HOUSE FIRE!"