The memory starts in darkness, and then there’s a sudden blast of color. You jolt awake to a terrible sound, an explosion somewhere nearby. You, here, is a small child, about eight years old, and you’re in your bedroom. But there’s no time to focus on any of the details, the pictures on the wall or the mess of laundry and toys on the floor.
The fire seems to have come out of nowhere. You were asleep, and then suddenly, with a loud blast, you’re surrounded. The color of it is unusual - rainbows of many different shades, including dark reds and deep greens and bright, blinding white. In the bedroom itself, it’s the smell of fire and smoke more than anything, but it’s licking up the walls around you.
You don’t know what to do. You start to cry, and shout for your mom and dad, for somebody to help you, but there’s no answer. So instead you run. The fire is even worse outside your bedroom, it’s everywhere, but you keep running, everything becoming a blur of color and heat around you as you cough and choke on the smoke, as your hands blister as they wrap around something metal.
And then, suddenly, the air is cool again, and the smoke from your lungs is gone, and you’re looking up at someone impossibly tall and strong.
You’re safe now. You throw your arms around the stranger, and you start to sob. You feel his arm against your back, hesitant, as other voices start to speak nearby.
“Oh my god. It went up out of nowhere.”
“Burnish, right? It has to be. The people in that house - “
“You there? Did you see what happened? Wait . . . that kid. Is he all right?”
The man speaks, finally, hesitantly. “Yes! Yes, he needs help! He was in that house!”
“You saved that boy from the fire? That’s incredible. . .”
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The memory starts in darkness, and then there’s a sudden blast of color. You jolt awake to a terrible sound, an explosion somewhere nearby. You, here, is a small child, about eight years old, and you’re in your bedroom. But there’s no time to focus on any of the details, the pictures on the wall or the mess of laundry and toys on the floor.
The fire seems to have come out of nowhere. You were asleep, and then suddenly, with a loud blast, you’re surrounded. The color of it is unusual - rainbows of many different shades, including dark reds and deep greens and bright, blinding white. In the bedroom itself, it’s the smell of fire and smoke more than anything, but it’s licking up the walls around you.
You don’t know what to do. You start to cry, and shout for your mom and dad, for somebody to help you, but there’s no answer. So instead you run. The fire is even worse outside your bedroom, it’s everywhere, but you keep running, everything becoming a blur of color and heat around you as you cough and choke on the smoke, as your hands blister as they wrap around something metal.
And then, suddenly, the air is cool again, and the smoke from your lungs is gone, and you’re looking up at someone impossibly tall and strong.
You’re safe now. You throw your arms around the stranger, and you start to sob. You feel his arm against your back, hesitant, as other voices start to speak nearby.
“Oh my god. It went up out of nowhere.”
“Burnish, right? It has to be. The people in that house - “
“You there? Did you see what happened? Wait . . . that kid. Is he all right?”
The man speaks, finally, hesitantly. “Yes! Yes, he needs help! He was in that house!”
“You saved that boy from the fire? That’s incredible. . .”
“Hurry! Go get help!”
The memory ends.]