It hurts to remember, the pain, yelling, crying, screaming, cursing, and fear in the people’s eyes.

I slowly sat down on a dry patch of grass. All types of flowers bloomed in the field— sunflowers, daisy, roses— covering every inch, except the area where I lay.

The sun is out today and the birds are singing a sweet melody as if nothing has ever happened here.

Tears fill my eyes, but I will not allow myself to cry. After all, it had been years since the huge accident— if it even was one.

…

I pulled myself to my feet and brushed off any dirt that may have stuck onto my pants.

Looking around at the scenery of the gaint field, I began to walk further into it.

The grass rose higher and began to appear more healthy and green the more I walked away from the spot where I had been laying. No suprise, though, this was far from where the fire’s flames roared— burning down most of the small house that occupied the area (my old house included).

I kick the ground as to let my anger out, no one knew who had started the fire the destroyed my home and many others too. The fire that had killed many of the poor people in our village. The fire that had left dozens homeless. But I would find out.