Almost Saved (My Expansion on Sarah Lord's "Fire and Snow"

At first I thought it was just my imagination. People hardly ever travel these roads that late at night. But through the red and orange glow, I saw the car stop on the side of the road. My heart leapt with joy, but my body could not move. I ached—horribly.

It was my legs mostly. When I say the roof crashing down it was so surreal to me. But the pain I felt as the bars of wood added pressure to my throbbing legs could not feel any more real. But now, I thought, all I had to do was wait for this person who had pulled over in front of my house to come save me.

So I waited, and I thought to myself. People had told me it was crazy to live so far out by myself. I loved the privacy though. The serene surroundings of the large oak trees and the vast fields of snow capped grass blades provided a beautiful backdrop for my small country home.

Still waiting, I watched as the flames consumed most of my country home. I watched as wall hangings melted and disappeared down to nothingness and my wooden chair provided fast fuel for the rising flames.

The flames got closer and closer, and it seemed that they should have reached me by this point. Miraculously, though, they hadn’t. So I waited. I waited for whoever was in the car parked on the old dirt road in front of my home to run up and let me know that help was on the way. I waited for them to see me lying halfway out of my side door with this wooden ledge crushing my legs. I waited for them to free me from that trap and pull me away from the smoky haze which was filling my lungs and sending me into intense coughing fits at this point.

I finally looked again toward the road. The car was gone. The help that I had so desperately waited for had dissolved. Had it been my imagination? No, I knew I had seen that car. I had seen someone looking up toward my house and the blazing fire that was slowly consuming it. But where did they go? Did they assume the house was empty? Or did they even care?

Luckily, help finally did come eventually. Apparently, someone else a while later witnessed the flames and called the fire department. I was eventually rescued, but not in my entirety, not before I was badly burned. The fire fighter that saved me did not come soon enough to save my legs from being paralyzed and or to save my body and face from being distorted. Now, every day I look at myself in the mirror I always wonder about that first car I saw. I wonder how they could pull over and stare at my home ablaze and never help or even seek help. I wonder how much more of me could have been saved. I wonder if I would be able to walk today or if my face would still look normal. But I wasn’t completely saved and my face sparks horrible stares and compulsive screams from little children. All I can think is that I was almost saved, but almost doesn’t count.