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Up in Smoke MAG
I hear screams. Terror and shock – bold, intense emotions throw themselves at me. It’s two in the morning, and we’re all running and fighting the smoke. Fighting for our lives.
The smoke is so thick that I can’t see more than three feet in front of me. The doors are blocked with wallpaper from hell. I’m sweating and crying, and if my lungs weren’t black and cloudy, I would be screaming. Flashes, lashes of light, laps of flames, and for a second I think I am dying.
We run back and forth, side to side looking for a way out with our stinging blind eyes. Things are blowing up in the next room. I can’t think about anything. I can’t worry about my brothers. My mother’s frantic screams can’t get to me. I’m completely focused on myself: my life, to get out, to survive, me, me, me. I can’t breathe.
Glass shatters, not from pressure or heat but from the fist of a brave man. This man grabs me first and shoves me out the broken window. My bare feet hit the ground and glass from the window slides into them. Air races into my lungs.
I’m sitting on a couch letting someone wash the black from my face. My family is crying. Why can’t I cry? Why can’t I hold them like they’re holding each other? I hear my mom say she thinks I’m still in shock. For the first time I make eye contact with her and try to squeeze out a tear. It doesn’t come.
I live in a house that has two fireplaces. I go to school, come home, go to my room, and by 5 p.m. I have cried myself to sleep. I have nightmares. I hate this new town; I hate this huge house. The only thing that keeps me alive is my sister and a Saosin CD that never stops playing. I eventually start sleeping with it on. My nightmares lessen. I don’t know if it’s the comfort of Anthony Green’s voice, or time, but sleep becomes easier.
I wonder if my sister hears me crying on the other side of the room. I wonder if she is as homesick as I am. I wonder if to her this brick house replaces our old green house. In my heart it doesn’t compare. I miss chasing her down Hopkins Street with bare feet. I miss the way sunlight leaked through the floor in the kitchen. I miss that ragged house.
I want my life back.
I’ve shared with you the gloomiest part of my life. A time that I remember like yesterday, but it was over a year ago. I am much better now. I am back in my town and my school. I can assure you, though, that I’m not perfectly healed. I am still homesick. I sleep with a nightlight and often an old Saosin CD. The fire changed me. It scarred me.
Park City, Utah
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i dont know how but i feel like i can relate to this. i have lived in the same house my whole life and i havent experienced a fire. but i think its becuase i used music as therapy for my own problems. i just recently got out of a really bad relationship. my boyfriend was pretty abusive and it would've gotten worse if i stayed around longer. but now i just get so angry about what he did to me, even at the most random times that i just need to listen to my music. Particularly Winds of Plague. im sure its the best thing either of us can do for ourselves.
You have a great story Here. Tradgic and A Tear Jerker. but a Great story. good luck in you new town and blast your music when you can :)
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"Love conquers all"
This moved me. I think i can relate because I dont live where in my hometown, even though theyre both my hometowns, but I feel more comf. back home.
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