Grenfell Tower Fire

The Grenfell Tower Fire 

Based on a true event in 2017

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.