People say when something drastic happens or when adrenaline is pumped through your body when you are exposed to a dangerous situation, your life starts flashing before you. But nothing of the sort happened to me on that Saturday night. No piece of my life flashed before me. Just a panic followed by shock then topped of by a calculating move which could have set my house on fire or had drastic consequences for somebody else. The feeling of blood rushing through my body and my heart thumping so loud in my ears still is clear to me this very day. It was a depressingly bad Saturday evening.
For starters heavy rain was pouring down my windows and even looking through the windows my body shivered with an apparent icy touch. It had been like this for two days. Rain and storm thunder clouds had swept the nation. Typical I thought. It just had to be the day when we’re not at school. I surveyed the storm before me. Wind howled like a wounded wolf and rain splattered with the force and sound of a paintball gun. It didn’t pour down, it simply splattered against the windows panes. But in the end, it was the rain that saved me. The rushing liquid bullets and the cold night was what saved me.
My mother had assigned me the task of feeding my eight year old cousin while she braved the storm to go shopping. Typical, I thought again. Nothing would stop my mother from doing her shopping. She had to buy some food supplies while I had the delightful task of feeding my cousin. That was sarcasm by the way. My cousin was one of those boys being perfectly fine but he did things that still scared you. It was when he stood there giving me that knowing look. Like he knew all your secrets, he reminded of a horror I saw once. It involved murderous puppets.
I cooked some toast, having nothing else to cook on my mind and two boiled eggs. Placing on the toast first, I slipped the knobs for both the cooker and grill. A rows of flames lit beautifully as rehearsed on the grill and the cooker produced a single dancing yet lethal enemy. Who would believe such a small innocent flame could burn down houses not that my house burnt down or did it? My cousin had been ill and the doctor had advised to feed him light food only so that explained making toast in the evening. I set the buttered toast upon the grill and placed a pan with one egg in it on the cooker to boil with the water.
Then sitting back I surveyed a task which had the same amount of excitement as watching paint dry. After five minutes the bread were more than ready (as you may have guessed I am quite a impatient person). And the eggs had to go on for another eight minutes as my cousin liked his yolk hard and not runny. Minutes past and the water surrounding the egg began to splutter like a heavy drinking sailor and rather I thought like a dormant volcano. I peered over the rim of the pan staring at the bubbling froth that surrounded the egg and the radiating waves of heat scoured my skin.
Drawing back with the expression of mild contempt directed at the froth. The kitchen was of medium size giving a wooden oak effect. The table sat high fitted to the wall surrounded by wooden stools. Above the cooker was a steel fan extractor along with on each side were a silver microwave and kettle. The fridge was also silver and the wholeset along with the silver washing-machine went well with the wooden floor and cream wallpaper. It gave a warm welcoming appearance. The water boiling in the pan crackled and hissed like a snake showing its dislike at something, leaned over to the right hand corner of the cooker to open a drawer for salt.
But something caught my hand. A very big something. There among where the salt should have been stood stood a bottle of a yellowish liquid. I guided my hand over the bottle and to the salt. It was then that I realised something was wrong. The lid of the cooking oil was slack. It moved freely beneath my palms. I yanked my hands back to quickly and watched as my series of unfortunate events unfolded right in front of me. First the oil from the force of my yanking fell in an arc. I watched as the shining golden liquid left the bottle in mid-air. The lid sprawling away in the air too.
The oil hit the cooker with the impact and velocity of a waterfall. The oils main victim was the pan it filled with gushing oil. To produce a helium like smell or was it hydrogen I wasn’t sure. It smelt faintly of mangoes, believe it or not. The oil spurted over the rim before I had time to react into the fires greedy jaws. The craving fire swallowed, absorbing the oil pouring into it. The fire seemed to rise grow bigger in size before me. It stood up in front of me like a bodybuilder then roared. Panic enveloped my senses. Touch, smell, sight, hearing and speaking all screamed out panic.
Foolishly, I leapt forward to grab the black handle of the pan. And immediately felt the scorching heat shot up my arm with the velocity of a snake bite. I cried out and knocked myself backwards. Running to the sink, I felt the blistering and searing fire’s breath upon my back. It gave another roar as I selected the only damp cloth I could see and threw it at the ferocious predator. The cloth flew in a perfect arc and hit the fire it in heart. But then to my utter astonishment. The fire leaned back to reveal the cloth with a gaping burnt out hole in the middle.
Now this was something not taught at school. I rushed to the window like it was my last sanctuary. Life wasn’t made easier as knob that would open the window was jammed. I pulled harder with all my weight on one side but to no avail. As I pulled the knob I was actually thinking of smashing the window with a stool when the knob turned one hundred and eighty degrees and opened with a wrench. Letting out a sigh of relief, I throw down a towel into the sink and ran water over it all the time aware that the heat was increasing but the size of the fire thankfully was not.
I slipped the towel over the pan handle and threw the pan with all my might out of the window. It soared over the hedge right into the middle of the pavement. Which was coincidentally deserted. The fire flamed brightening the dark and rainy sky for a second before falling to its watery grave. It gave one last roar like a lion being thrown of a cliff would which was drowned by a loud but relieving hiss. I welcomed the sound and stared dreamingly at the rising mist. As footsteps entered kitchen I turned to see my cousin with his mouth open wide gaping at me and in his eyes was that knowing yet scary look.