Chicago Fire Short Story

The Chicago Fire In the fall of the year 1871 in Chicago the weather was arid. All summer there hasn?t been at least 1 inch of rain. The dark rich green grass was changing into hay. I was given the name, Laura by my two parents, Valentine and Oscar. We were the Smith?s. We were a first class family with a massive wooden house, in an enormous wooden neighborhood, surrounded by wooded streets and sidewalks in a tremendous wooden city. I was eight years old and I was very dependent on my father. He would walk me across the street every morning just because he wanted to be the one to protect me and he would tuck me in bed every night and tell nice and soothing stories because he wanted me to have nice and soothing dreams. On October 8th an early afternoon my mother and I rode a train to head downtown to visit my father at work. He worked so much the only time I see him was in the morning and at bedtime. We pasted through most of the wooden brown town. Every time I go outside I see a million shades of brown. We reach busy and crammed downtown. But that day many people surrounded the tall building my father worked at. My mom and I smelled

My mother was breathing really hard and I could feel her heart beat beating at a thousand beats per second. I heard a sound of a whistle. People were moving aside while multiple firemen carriages were rushing through another after another while ladders were poking out at the end of them. After they passed by there was the sound of a loud bell that was so loud that everyone through out the whole city could hear it. Suddenly my mom took a right when every one else was going straight. After a while of running I started to see a large area of blue. Then I realized it was Lake Michigan. I jumped off of her and we looked around and saw a wooden boat with two pedals. She ran to it and grabbed the boat first to put it in the