PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I was awoken by an alarming sound. It was repetitive, loud, and very obnoxious. Soon after I noticed a smell that gives me headaches. I realized it was smoke. Suddenly alert and vibrant I jumped out of bed to wake my family up. I soon remembered: my parents were out on a date, and my brother and sister were with my grandparents. I was left here with my neighbor to "keep an eye out for me" until my parents came home. Obviously, she wasn't doing a very good job (as I'd expected), but I thought I was grown up enough to take care of myself. At least for a few hours. I guess I was wrong about that. Then again, what were the odds that an apartment building would catch on fire tonight? A thought popped in my head: where was the fire coming from? I go outside in the hallway to find out.
What I did find were neighbors that were continuously ignoring me as they pushed their way through the hallway in their pajamas, boxers, and robes. Why was I bothering? No one would listen to a teenager in general, why in a situation of panic? I thought to myself thinking of ways to exit. If the fire was on the thirteenth floor, my floor, the easiest way to evacuate was to go down the stairs; but if the fire was on a lower floor, the heat would rise, and soon get to this floor anyways. The thought of the going down stairs through a fire. It left me shivering.
The fire escapes on the outer part of the building was on the other side of the corridors. The only question I could here over the screams of people at the point was "am I going to die?" that question was soon out off as I heard a particular scream that seemed closer and more real than the others.
It was Helen, a girl no more than four years old that is in the apartment across the hall from mine. She was in the elavator, screaming for her mother she had lost through the thick smoke. Hasn't she ever read the little sign that says "in case of fire, use the stairs." ? Wait, I remember she couldn't read. Well, she could at least look at the picture of a person running down some stairs.
I dash into the elavator, took the Hellen by the shoulders and pushed her out of the elavator.
Quickly I said "Go to thte stairs find your mom there!" I knew this because in the distance I heard a faint "Hellen! Where are you?"
Before I could regain myself and leave the elavator, thte doors shut and I started going down to the eleventh floor. I pushed my back against the wall, trying not to inhale, the smoke, slid to floor and thought.
I waited a moment "This is the end." I whispered quietly. The air became hotter and hotter as I spoke "Goodbye mom. goodbye Dad. Goodbye Lacey, and goodbye Brandon." I closed my eyes and started to cry, waiting for the flames to consume me. I remember the last person I will see before my death, "Goodbye Helen." I cried.
A tear sizzled when it hit the floor.
Suddenly, the elavator doors werer pryed open. Two men in familiar outfits stepped in and picked me up. I was saved.
One of the firemen said on our way out the building "You know you're never supposed to be in an elavator during a fire, haven't you ever read the signs?"
At that moment I didn't care. I'd get to see my family again, I'd get to go to school and live. I was alive.