Sometimes a good story will remind you of whom you want to be, maybe that’s why they are so many. stories about good and evil, stories about the trial of the human spirit, stories about living and dying and how you are supposed to do one despite the other, well this story it’s about me.

Everyone in my neighborhood was in a jovial mood except I, who was bored, tired, restless, and also had a minor headache. Deep inside my heart I was internally disturbed but I took no notice. I walked towards the sitting room and sat on the clumsy coach. Suddenly memories came flooding back on my mind as I recalled vividly. I reflected on my life when I was in form one during term two. It was on the 16th of July 2014, when the orange ball rose reluctantly tinting the eastern horizon primrose yellow, as the little crack of the thatched roof of our dormitory in streaks of sunlight bumped onto my eyes, like a little doll I flickered as the sun rays warmed my face. I stretched out a little and gave out a yawn and got up lazily. I tiptoed to the bathroom and took a bath. I then rushed to the dormitory and wore my uniform as I headed to the classroom; I was full of beans ready for the day activities on that fateful day.

The day went on well until the evening preps came. It was at this time that the teacher had left for the evening remedial classes, that I was about to go out for a group discussion when we heard students shouting, then over suddenly one of our classmate who was outside reading came and reported to us that the dormitory was on fire. It was unbelievable since we, the boarders were from there just a while ago. It was at this time when we all came out of our class and witnessed the horrendous inferno. I stood aghast shocked, mesmerized beyond words, thinking of my belonging inside there made me weep distractedly. I shot up as tears of disbelief filled my eyes. It was during this time that the teacher runs for the main switch and switched it off. Outsiders came as we joined hands to put off the fire, but all was lost there was nothing that we could do since our items had burnt beyond recognition.

The thought that I had lost all my belongings nailed me down as I was very much confused. The teacher’s gathered us to the assembly ground as the police walked around doing their investigations. The assembly ground was as a graveyard since after a moment of shuffling of feet’s there was total silence. I paused a bit as if weighing the impact of my loss. On the assembly ground, the teachers did their investigations by checking if all the students were present. We sat on the assembly ground until late at midnight when we were released and ordered to go to our respective classes to lay down our heads and think of our great loss.

During this time I was unable to sleep since this was my first experience like the way they say experience is the best teacher by Ben Carson. I became afraid and suspicious of anyone I saw. During the night the weather was very harsh since it was the cold spell season I spent the night awake thinking of my new items that I had bought during half term. I bow down my head as bitter tears came rolling down my visage asking myself “why, why, why me?” truly it was a bitter pill to swallow but I had to come to the terms of myself and that of the rude reality. Even though Satan had slammed the door of hope right in front of me God in his own mysterious ways opened a window for us since we were all safe and sound with no injuries but with thoughts of our lost items. Surely despite how much I try to forget this incident, it is temporarily packed in my medulla oblongata like a written epitaph on a tombstone.