The Grenfell Tower Fire
24.6.2017
I was woken at around two a.m. by
a faint burning smell. I slowly got out of bed and plodded into my small
kitchen to check I hadn’t left my flapjacks in the oven the night before. I
hadn’t. So I plodded back into bed and fell asleep.
About half an hour later, I was
woken up again. Someone was screaming. I rolled over to face the wall and tried
to work out if I was in a dream or real life. I pinched myself but nothing
happened. I pinched myself a second time and then banged my head against the
wall just to make sure. Ow. That someone was still screaming. I had not yet
woken up fully so I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what that
person was screaming. At first, I couldn’t make it out. Then after a few
minutes it sounded a bit like ‘Fire! Get out! Quick! Grenfell’s on fire!”
Without a
second thought, I jolted out of bed and ran to the front door. I hated fire. I couldn’t
stand it. I had to escape. I grabbed the door handle and turned it. I tried to
pull it open, hoping desperately I had forgotten to lock it before I went to
bed. But the door wouldn’t budge. I tried one last time just to make sure
before hurrying over to the bookcase to get the key out of a little container I
always kept it in. I stuck my hand into the small pot and rummaged furiously
about, but in vain. It wasn’t in there. Maybe I had put it into the shoe box
under my bed. I ran into my bedroom and searched every nook and cranny. I couldn’t
find it. I looked and looked. In the sitting room, in the bathroom, in my
wardrobe. Oh where could I have put it? I felt hotter with every minute,
I could hear a crackling sound, coming closer and closer. I had to get out.
Tears streaming
down my face, I looked in every kitchen cupboard. Pots, cups, plates, but no
key. It was hopeless. The key was gone. I would never get out and I would die
in this horrible block. My tears and sweat mingled as they streamed down my
face. I was finding it harder and harder to breathe and smoke had crept its way
under my door, choking me. I sank to the ground and started to sob
uncontrollably. Lord please, please rescue me. Allow me to find the key and
please let me escape. God, have mercy on me! Don’t let me die. I’m too young. Don’t
let me die.
I sighed. A
big, long sigh. I felt peace in my heart. I knew that if I died, it would mean
seeing my wonderful Saviour in heaven. I slipped my hands into my pyjama pockets
and smiled up at the ceiling. Thank you, God, for giving me peace.
Suddenly my
heart leaped. I could feel something cold and metal-like in my left hand. The key!
I jumped up and raced to the front door. The key turned easily in the lock and
the door sprang open. Never had I felt so happy to be able to open a door!
As I stepped
out of my flat, heat washed over me. The corridors were black with smoke. I had
to run. And fast. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. All I could do was feel
my way along the corridors and find the fire escape using my hands. As I passed
my neighbours’ front door, I jumped. A loud noise was coming from their flat. I
stopped to listen and realised it was snores. I had to get them out. I couldn’t
just let them die. I started shouting and banging on their door. There was no
sound of anyone waking up. The snores continued. I threw myself against the
door, making quite a noise. But it didn’t open and still they slept on. I kicked
and banged and shouted until I slumped down, completely exhausted. God, I
don’t want to leave them here to die. Somehow let me open this door.
Suddenly
something very heavy and burning hot fell from the ceiling. It struck me on the
head and I couldn’t remember anything after that.
* * * * * *
“You alright?”
As my eyelids
slowly fluttered open, and my eyes adjusted to the bright light, I looked up
into the concerned face of an elderly doctor bending over me.
“Where am I?”
I croaked weakly. Suddenly all the memories of last night flooded back.
“Am I alive? Was the fire put out? Was
everyone rescued? What about my neighbours?” I asked all in one breath.
“Yes, you are
alive.” smiled the doctor kindly, “And I can see you have a lot of questions to
be answered.”
* * * * * *
It was about two weeks later that I was making my way down the street
to see my friend. I had been let out of hospital that morning. My whole body was
cut and bruised. My right arm was broken. My face was burnt where part of the
ceiling had fallen away and had knocked me down, unconscious. I put my hand to
my cheek and winced. I would never look the same again. But I was blessed to be
alive. Praise the Lord, for He has been merciful to me. Praise the Lord.
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