Young Writers Society

This short story is meant to be from the point of view of a young girl, around six years old, although the vocabulary isn't as juvenile.

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I awoke to the strong smell of charring wood and melting plastic. Glancing through half-closed eyes at the white wooden door of my bedroom I untangled my legs from the mess of blankets I’d kicked away during the night.

What was going on?

Did daddy burn breakfast?

I stretched my limbs, stiff from hours of sleep, and then went on to yawn. Finally I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision. As my vision adjusted to the semi-darkness, I sat up with a start.

Light shone through the centimeter-wide crack between the wooden flooring and the door, flickering alternating yellow and orange.

Oh, god.

I was out of my bed in seconds, dashing to the door. Without another thought I closed my hand around the iron doorknob.

Screaming in pain I fell away from the glowing hot metal, cradling my burned hand as I clenched my teeth together tightly, then I opened my mouth to shout ‘DADDY! DADDY!’

No reply came, and I silenced.

The stinging waves of pain temporarily held me in a chokehold, and I remained where I was, sitting on the floor, the strong burning smell aggravating my nose. I sneezed, getting on hand and knees. The smell was edging on unbearable, especially now that the odor of smoldering flesh lingered in the air.

I stared down at my palm and felt my heartbeat spike. Blisters covered my hand, the surrounding skin a deep, mean red that came close to crimson.

Oh my god.

Smoke spiraled from beneath the door, and I lifted my eyes to follow the grey particles through the air. How did this happen? Where was daddy?

I scrambled towards the window, then lifted myself off my knees and clumsily yanked at the window handle with my uninjured left hand. The handle didn’t budge, and I cursed desperately, not giving up.

Why had I never decided to use the window? We’d lived here for over a year already! If only I’d asked daddy to open it for me once!

Panic rose as the smoke thickened, and I banged my fist against the window ‘HELP ME! I CAN’T GET OUT! DADDY! THERE’S A FIRE! DADDY HELP ME!’

On the verge of tears I yelled ‘PLEASE!’

The door of my room was kicked open, and I spun around. My dad was breathing heavily, his face and pajamas covered in soot ‘Amy! Come here baby!’

‘How-?’ I stammered, but he only shook his head ‘Come on!’

I stared into the wall of flames outside the door, that began to edge closer and closer to my room’s light blue carpet. Daddy kneeled before me, then, lifting me up he noticed my face twist and grabbed my hand carefully, turning it over ‘Oh my god… Amy…’

‘The door was hot daddy!’ he lifted me up again, and I buried my face in his neck, feeling slightly safer already.

Daddy would get me out of here, I knew it for sure.

‘Amy, hold on tight, okay?’

‘Yes, daddy’ I whispered, hiding in his arms, and felt him get to his feet. My legs bungled down, my feet warned by the heat from under the door.
‘Daddy I don’t want to go through the fire!’ I sobbed, my hand hurting madly. What if the fire touched me?

‘We’re not! Amy, hold on tight, okay?’

He already said that! Why did daddy sound so unsure? My daddy could do anything, he was like superman, only even stronger and better, so why did he sound so worried?

He walked to the window, I realized, when I peeked over his shoulder and saw the door grow more distant. I turned slightly, and watched him close his hand around the window handle and yank it open in one go.

He pushed it open, and a second later I saw the grass several meters under us.

Daddy faced the door again, and I widened my eyes, watching the flames soar up my bookshelf. My books!

‘Amy, close your eyes’

I glanced up at my daddy’s stubble beard, bewildered, then pressed my face against his shirt, not looking.

Unexpectedly I felt that we were falling, wind ripping at my hair.
Then, with a loud thump, we were no longer falling. I was in daddy’s arms, but he wasn’t standing anymore. He was lying on the floor, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly open.

A red line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

I rolled off him and patted his shoulder ‘Daddy? Daddy wake up!’
Screams made my ears ring, and I was pulled away from daddy by many hands.

I recognized my neighbor, Mary, and frowned at her. She held my face in her hands ‘Oh my god, Amy, are you okay?’

‘My hand hurts’ I pouted, then looked in the direction of daddy, but couldn’t see him. A whole group of people stood around there, blocking my view.

Mary brought her phone to her ear and started talking unbelievably fast. I didn’t bother listening, a bit like when I had grammar in school, and the teacher talked for too long about the same thing. I coughed, my throat feeling raw, and glanced at my hand again, tears springing into my eyes.
A horrible tearing sound erupted through the night air, and I looked up abruptly, watching the roof of my house collapse into an inferno of destruction.

Neighbors screamed as soot rained down on us, and Mary hauled me to my feet, walking me to the edge of the road. Sirens approached, and before long a fire truck sped into the street, screeching to a halt before my house. Firemen jumped out and began to run around, making all the neighbors move away from the hot flames that raged out of the hole that once was our roof.

More trucks parked haphazardly on the grass, and an ambulance came to a halt only meters from me. I stared in awe at the paramedics as they kneeled beside my father, then zipped open a pack and began to insert a plastic tube in his throat.

A kind face appeared before mine, and I looked the firefighter up and down. He smiled at me consolingly ‘Is that your house, kiddo?’

I nodded, trying to see past him, wishing he’d move so I could see daddy.

‘I’m Mick, what’s your name?’ he questioned, and I glanced down at my burned hand, then whispered ‘Amy’

‘Well, Amy, are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere?’

I nodded, again, then held up my hand. He pulled a funny face, and I grinned, forgetting the pain.

‘Come along, then, we’ll fix that hand of yours’ he walked me to the second ambulance, where a woman in a paramedic uniform patted me on the back kindly.

The other firefighters ran around in a frenzy, pouring water on what once had been my house. I looked around, failing to find daddy.

‘DADDY!’ I wailed, to the apparent shock of the firefighter and paramedic, and began to sob. Why wasn’t daddy with me?

‘I WANT DADDY ! DAD-DY!’ I lengthened the last syllable into a several seconds long stretch of panic, my throat stinging in protest.

The fireman and paramedic exchanged glances of pity, and then, unexpectedly, the woman sat me down inside the ambulance and took a seat beside me.

I wailed louder, not agreeing with their sudden decision of sitting me in the ambulance, and pounded my good hand into the side of the seat as the fireman shut the double doors, casting an apologetic look in my direction.

I breathed in deep, and once more, screamed at the top of my lungs.

Here you go.

Again, I'll only get like, 10 points for this since I'm posting an attachment, but oh, well. It saves a bit of time.

Good luck, and happy editing!

~JFW1415

Thanks for the comments !!

I'm glad you guys like it

I'm going to edit it to add some detail regarding the father's possible death and try to make the little girl more six-year-old-like, if you get what i mean


XxxDo

The atmosphere of this piece was excellent.

You captured the panic and the danger of a roaring fire quite well, and your protagonist was believable for the most part. In my opinion, the narration was far too sophisticated, which detracted a little from the fact that she's six, but your dialog made her very believable as a young child.

My only real peeve is the father's death. Unless they jumped from a third story or higher building, it's highly unlikely that he would have died, unless he landed on his head. If you're going to kill him, I think it should be from the fire; smoke inhalation, exposure to the flames, etc. Perhaps his dying action was to fling himself out the window with his daughter, a desperate, adrenaline filled attempt to save her. If he did not die from the fall, as implied, you should clarify that somehow.

Great work, overall.

--King

I could really feel the terror the little girl went through from the begining to the end. You captured her character really well and it made the whole piece really enjoyable to read! I thought that youcould easily tell that the narrorator was a little girl but you used a higher'level vocabulary that didn't subtract anything from the girls young age. It all fit together really well and I loved reading it!
As for cool feedback, there were a few gramatical errors but nothing too bad at all. Other than that, I thought it was really good! I liked it a lot and can't wait to read more from you!

i've got a little annoyance with this, how the child thought 'Oh my god' when I've never heard a six year old say it. just something that really annoyed me.
Sorry for the not the best review
-MV (though i did like it, so you know that.)

If was six years old and my daddy came to rescue me… I wouldn’t question it. He’s my daddy. I’m six. In that view he is the best man in the world- whether true or not – and is sort of like a super hero to me. Another thing I would criticize is the fact that she says “oh god” several times in her thoughts. Let me say again… six? If I was six and in a room I couldn’t get out of I’d bethinking saving my little pink pony doll or something. She is far too sophisticated to be six. That’s my only complaint. Can’t we say she’s ten? Regardless, you have a lovely writing style…

Aww, this was so sweet and so sad and so cute!

Did daddy burn breakfast?

* Capitalize "daddy" since it's basically a name for the girl's dad.


I have no other critique. This was a fun read.

*clicks gold star*
Nice work.

- Summerless <3~

Good Job

All in all I thought this was very very good: it caught my attention at once, with the panic surrounding the fire. There was, however, some punctuation problems and the vocabulary didn't quite sound like Amy was only six years old. This had striking contrast against Amy's diolougue--calling her father "daddy". Every time I read it I felt a little shock coming back from the descriptive paragraph.

I felt that this piece was overall an A. Well done.

The atmosphere of this story was so intense. But at the begining it was hard to tell how old Amy was. And if the dad jumped out of a window I think it should be a little higher than what you made it seem like cause it's hard to believe that the dad died from a jump like that. On the other hand, the mystery at the end of your stories is so amazing. I love it. It's kind of like you get to write your own ending, but you laso want to know what you wold write for an ending. The stories you write are so detailed. I love the fact that you are a great writer! I can't wait to read more of your work!

okay... i know you mentioned that this is supposed to be from a 6 year old's view and appologied it was too intellectual, but the language was too distracting.

6 year olds aren't going to say "oh my god" in their heads, they are going to be consumed in fear and just be freaked out. when one is 6, you have a very limited brain capacity that doesn't give room for as much reasoning as you gave your girl.

To fix this, instead of writing in first person, write in third, and you can get away with using big-girl words. but be careful because you'll have to still keep her dialogue inlittle girls words.

but good job capturing her confusion, this story just needs a little work and you can really turn it into something good. I like your premise and plot, so just keep chugging along andyou'll get there

Oh.. my.. God. I loved it! So far, that is the best one I have read. I was so interested in it, that when my computer dinged to tell me I had a myspace message, I jumped so high I nearly fell out of my seat!!!!! There is two things I noticed, though.

1) When you have people talking you use quotation marks ""
2) Where you say " My legs bungled down, my feet warned by the heat from under the door." did you mean: "my feet warmed by the heat from under the door"?

This was well written, but what was the purpose? You depict a disturbing and traumatizing experience extremely well, but why? I respect the quality of the writing very much, but it seems as if it has no meaning. A story without deeper meaning is meant to entertain, but I found no entertainment in it. It was good, but try to actually delve into the mind of that child. You focus on description a lot, but instead of telling you might what to try showing. For example, when the firemen arrive, don't say that they arrive, show it through the eyes if that child and describe what it going on the mind of the child. Just something to think about.

Thanks for the comments

XxxDo