Ten years ago, on the day before my birthday, my house burned down. I was in my room playing with my dog, Spot, when all of a sudden, he started barking. He ran out of my room, and I quickly followed him. He ran to the living room, where thin wisps of flame were appearing behind the couch. Now I will remind you that I was only five at the time. That being said, instead of freaking out, as I may well do now, I instead stared at it in wonder. My mother came into the front room, with her batter-stained apron and shouted, "Shut that dog up!"

Then she saw the fire and screamed "Oh my God! Get out!"

We ran outside and across the street, Spot running faithfully at my heels. My mom called the fire department, and then called dad, who was still at work. The fire department put out the fire, and then we went to stay at my grandma's house.

The End