Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you. (500 word limit)
FIRE!
Fire ablaze as the smoke begins to fill my lungs. No way out, but the back. "MARKY!" Where is he? I scream his name until my voice becomes too hoarse to speak. I cannot save him. Why was I pulled out? I needed to get to him! The flames spread like wildfire. Outside we stand surrounded by snow clad in pajamas. Hope fades as the seconds tick. I attempt to run back in, but I am stopped by the neighbors. My brother's life hangs in the balance and my dad is at the store. The one time I actually wanted him here, but no of course he is not here. My brother and I cry; he cries for the young sibling he used to play the game with and who followed him around. To me, I had just lost a son. I was the one stayed up late to change his diapers, to feed him, soothe him when he had nightmares, and so much more. Windows break, the walls cave in, glass is flying and still my baby is not out. I wanted this to be a nightmare I would wake up from and smile seeing him lying next to me or him waking me up at six o'clock in the morning to watch SpongeBob. He would be ok, right? Maybe they got him out? Maybe it is all in my head? My conscience refuses to acknowledge the truth. Tim is moving, yet still no police, firefighters, or ambulance has arrived! Our own neighbors had to try to rescue him. Is it not their job to protect, we live right down the street from a fire and police department? 911 operators are useless. I start to shake as I realize this is reality. The so called "protectors" arrive and it is too late. They struggle to save him from the old structure of our home. Well, the home that once was. My dad finally comes and rushes us to A.I. DuPont Hospital passing all lights with no care in the world. Our baby dies thirty minutes after his arrival from smoke inhalation.
I have to get away. Being in this hospital makes me sick. My grandmother on my mother's side rushes to pick me up and that night I just cry. Cry until I cannot breathe, I throw up, head pounding becoming too sick I fall asleep through the night waking from the horrors of the night. My grandma asks if I want to go back with my family, but I cannot handle being across the street from there. I remain mute for years it seems. No emotions to be shown only the lasting influence of the fire has on my inner being. School unbearable; I just want my baby. My parents ask if I want a psychologist, but I just cannot handle the truth so I say no. Meanwhile, the guilt is eating me alive. Day after day, I am questioned by the police until finally they figure out that the cause was a CANDLE! All I can remember is my father saying "why didn't you get him?" But I just could not.
Mark Anthony Smith Jr. always wanted to be firefighter, but now he will never have this chance so I live to carry his spirit and dream by living like there is no tomorrow.
I need help with getting the word limit down. I am currently at (558). Also, I do not know if i really got the impact part entirely inside of the essay. Be as brutal as possible.
