Puff of Smoke

[NewClassic]

Puff of Smoke

It would have been a dark and stormy night, but the building was on fire.

Smoke rose from the kitchen, and I knew the fire was growing far too fast for me to stop it. The fire extinguisher in my hand sputtered as white foam lanced from the nozzle, but the fire didn't waver. Slowly, the horror of the situation dawned on me. I moved into the hall, slammed my hand over the fire alarm switch.

Flashing lights and loud noise surrounded the building. My apartment began spilling smoke into the hall, and I ran to the stairwell. To my surprise, people were already jogging down the stairs. I joined their shuffle and got outside of the building. Rain pelted my head and eyes as I jogged out of the building, and I grumbled while smoke billowed from my apartment window. I heard the screaming of sirens, and I slumped against building across the street from my apartment complex. The late-evening cold, the rain, and the realization that I set my apartment on fire began settled in my skin, making me shiver.

Somewhere between minutes and hours, a two firetrucks and an ambulance rolled up to the scene, and began hosing the building down as hatchet-wielding firemen ran into the building. I glanced up at my apartment, and realized that the fire was already out. I struggled to register what time the fire had started, when it had stopped, and what time it was then. My brain communicated two things to me. I had no reason to lay here in the rain. I got up to leave. The second was that I was very very cold. I walked for another five minutes before the strange grogginess faded, and I fished my cell phone from my pocket. My best friend had the easiest number in the world, I dialed it on reflex.

“Hello?” She sounded out of it, probably woke her up.

“G'afternoon, Sarah.”

There was a short silence, she was probably checking her clock. “It's midnight, Marcus, you'd better have three hells of an excuse for calling me this late.”

“My apartment burned down.”

“That's not- Wait, what?”

“Fire. Hot. Burned down living area.”

“Oh my God...” She said softly, as if she had turned her head away from the phone.

Then it dawned on her, “Oh my God! Are you alright!?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Everything was silent for a minute, the rain drops beat into my hair and shirt. “Hey, Sarah, can I sleep at your place tonight?”

“Oh... Um... Okay.”

I knew where Sarah's apartment was, and hurried I over there. The rain continued to pelt my shoulders and back until I got under an overhang. I put the phone back to my ear, but all I heard was silence. She probably set the phone down. I buzzed her apartment, waited, but got no answer.

I buzzed again. Still no reply.

I put the phone back to my ear and listened. Between the rain and the occasional passing car, it was hard to hear through my phone. After a minute or two, I heard breathing, Sarah had passed out again.

“Damn it, Sarah.”

I hung up, and called back. “Pick up, pick up.” It took two more calls before she did.

“Huh?” Was the bleary response. Then there was a pause, “Hello?”

“Sarah. Get up, and buzz me in.”

“Oh, uh...” I heard rustling, then a short buzz from both ends of the line, and the door clicked. I opened the door, and jogged up to Sarah's room. The door was already ajar, so I stumbled in. Without the slapping of the rain, I heard Sarah's sleep-breathing easily. I poked my head in the doorway and looked for her.

I learned two things at that particular moment.

One: Sarah slept naked.

Two: Sarah has cats.

I took two steps back when something furry brushed my leg, and hardly contained a scream. I looked down to see a dark-furred cat twist itself around my leg. “Oh,” I said, leaning down and whispering, “hello kitty.”

I went to the front of the apartment, closed the door, and flopped on the couch.

I was out within minutes.


“My God, man...” The accent hit me immediately, expensive English. “Do you have no shame?”

“Huh?” I said, my mind wasn't clicking. I knew I must have sounded bleary as hell.

“Bah! You humans are all daft. Up, man, up!” I felt an uncomfortable weight on my chest, the cat must've been standing on me. “We've no time to explore your human morning routine. Forget your coffee, forget your dressing. Get up! If the world would wait for you humans to primp, then the sun would rise at noon. Now stop wasting my time, and yours, and get up!”

“Fine.” I croaked, rolling. I fell off of the couch, bouncing against the carpeted floor before getting up. “I'm up.”

I trudged toward the bathroom, and the cat followed me. “Hurry up, bloke, even though I woke you early, there be not time to waste on anything other than relief.”

“Screw you,” I said, clearly a morning person, “I'm going to brush my teeth.”

“No time, human.” I finished with the toilet, and flushed, “right, now you're done. Let's go.”

“Screw y-” Suddenly, my body stopped listening to my commands. I stood in the bathroom, feet slowly getting colder on the early-morning tile.

“Now that I've your attention, come with me.” He turned to walk, and I followed him. No conscious decision of mine, but my body moved. “Come now, no time to dilly-dally.”

“Holy hell,” suddenly, a lightbulb exploded in light. “You're a talking cat!”

“Ah.” The cat told me, amusement dancing in his voice. “I picked a smart one.”

“How the hell? Who in the... Oh God.”

“I think the human finally gets it.” He said, speeding his stride into a rapid jog. For some inexplicable reason, my body jogged along with him. We sprinted through the apartment building, a cat and a man in nothing but his boxers. I longed for my clothes as we turned into the stairwell, and passed one or two very-early-morning joggers. The cat ignored them, and took me up to the roof. He slowed his stride, and I moved ahead of him for the last flight, and slammed into the door, and crossed the threshold. We were on the roof.

Rain fell on my bare shoulders, and my hair was rapidly getting wet again. Behind us, a small calico cat appeared in the stairwell, and entirely nude Sarah behind it. I could feel a blush rush up to my face when I noticed her, but abruptly died out without my volition. She smiled briefly at me, completely unbothered by this meeting. The Calico cat, a hint of Australian accent coloring her tone, “My, your human looks happy to see her.”

“You know humans,” the black cat said, turned to the blank space over the street. “always in heat.”

“Except it's freakin' cold out here.” I said, shivering. “You two better expl-”

My body began running, the shivering stopped, and my ability to speak was revoked. We got to the lip of the building, and I leaped over the ledge. The cat took the ledge shortly after me, and Sarah and her cat appeared just above him. In the air, I flailed, looked toward the rapidly rising ground, and closed my eyes.

Hell, I didn't want to have my eyes open when I died.

[BlackMorningRibbon__X]

ah it sounds really interesting!! keep going...

[NewClassic]

Actually, since my making this thread, I've posted this elsewhere, and gotten some comments. Mostly how to fix the jarringly quick elements of the writing, which are pretty rampant in that piece. I'll post the the update. Reason I didn't here is because people honestly didn't seem to care.

~~
Puff of Smoke
NewClassic

I stared out through the window. Rain was pouring from the sky. Another rainy day in the city.
I turned my attention back to the stove-top, where three slices of Spam were sizzling on my mom's old skillet. My eye trailed up to the kitchen cabinet, where the rest of my mom's cooking paraphernalia stood in stacks. I was learning to cook like I'd promised my mom years ago in college, but it was still a slow learning experience.
I checked the slices, guessed I had about another minute or two before they would be done, and jogged to the living area to turn on the TV or radio. Cooking was fun, but I felt like I needed something to occupy my mind. Cooking wasn't quite doing it.
The radio sat on the coffee table, but wouldn't turn on. I flipped the radio around and saw the batteries were missing. I reached for my TV remote, and plopped the batteries into the radio. I tried the power switch again, and the radio came on.
Talk radio came on, and I heard a thump from the kitchen. I turned back around to see the skillet, Spam slices and burning grease all over the tile. I panicked for a minute, and crouched to start slapping the grease out. I slammed my palm against the grease once, and learned quickly that I should get a fire extinguisher. I turned from the kitchen, and opened my apartment door, dashing down the hall. On the far wall of the hallway, a red fire extinguisher was hanging from the wall. I ripped it from the wall, and ran back to my apartment. The hallway erupted in whistling sound and flashing lights, as if the fire extinguisher was attached to the fire alarm. As I was running back to my apartment, I heard a thump. The floor rocked, and I stumbled, slamming into the carpet in the hall. The fire extinguisher tumbled down the hall.
I got up, and hurried back to the apartment. The kitchen was a horrible mess. My refrigerator was bowled over, my cabinets were all on fire, and my wooden table was in ruins. I turned around the counter, and saw my porcelain sink halfway through the ceiling. The cabinets had erupted outward, and I saw a horribly warped propane tank underneath my kitchen counter. The propane had probably exploded. The cabinets were all on fire, as was the carpet in my living room.
I hurried to collect some of my mom's cooking set, grabbed a skillet and a spatula, and hurried out into the hall. I tripped out of the apartment, dropping my cookware, and hurried to recover it. I got the skillet to the end of the hall, and hurried back into my apartment. I ran through the living room and grabbed the empty suitcase I keep under my futon for vacations.
I ran back to the kitchen, and dumped as many pots and pans as I could into the luggage. Blue and red bulb flashes were spinning in to the window. After getting all of the cooking stuff, I ran for the door. I stumbled over what used to be my coffee table, and dropped the bag so I could catch my balance. I stumbled, barely catching my balance before I slammed into the wall. I turned back to grab my bag, and got caught around the waist. “Come on!”
I turned, and saw a fire-fighter's helmet. “Get out of here!”
“But, my-”
“Go!” He shoved me toward the stairs, and I stumbled down the first five steps. I listened, and ran to the ground floor. The apartment's tenants were already outside, joined by a few ambulances and firetrucks. As soon as I was out of the building, two ambulance runners hurried up to me and checked me for burns or gashes. After a short check-up, they told me I was lucky that I had no burns, and told me to go get out of the rain. I watched the apartment building burn for a minute, reflecting on all of the furniture lost and money wasted.
Beside me, one of the onlookers elbowed me in the ribs. “Whoever started that fire ain't gettin' they deposit back.” He laughed at his own joke, and walked off into the night, probably to his car. I stood, staring at what used to be my apartment. I felt groggy, and slumped against the brick wall of the building across the street.
Some time had passed between me getting outside and when an ambulance worker came and hauled me to my feet. “I know, it's pretty shocking. You shouldn't stay out in the cold, you have anywhere else to go?”
“Huh?” I finally broke out of my grogginess, and thought to the cell phone sitting in my pocket. “Yeah, I can go somewhere.”
“Right, get there quick. You don't need a cold right now.” He thumped me twice on the shoulder, and hurried into his ambulance before driving off. I fished my cellphone out of my pocket, and hovered over the first number in my speed dial. My dad still lived downtown, and wouldn't take much time to get to him. He'd be with his girlfriend, though, and he would want to shove it in my face that I failed with my own apartment.
“Screw that,” I told myself, and dialed Sarah. Sarah was something of my best friend, and did a good job of being my main source of socialization in-town. I vaguely knew where she lived, since I knew what bus exit she took, but didn't really have a solid idea of where she lived. It'd beat the hell out of living with my dad again.
After a few rings, I heard a groggy answer, “Mmph... Hello?”
“Uh... Good afternoon, Sarah.”
There was a short pause, “Mark?”
“Yeah... Uh... I need a favor.”
Another pause, this one was probably to check the clock. “Mark, it's midnight. You better have three hells of a good excuse to call me at midnight.”
“My apartment... uh... caught on fire.”
“That's not a go- Hold on, you did what?”
“My apartment burned down...” I had some trouble keeping my voice steady. I was shivering pretty violently, “I need someplace to stay, quick.”
“Oh my God, are you alright?”
“No...” I got to a bus stop and sat down, shivering under the roof of the bench. “Can you come pick me up?”
“Sure, where are you?”
“Bus stop you keep getting off on when we take the bus downtown.”
“Oh. Um... My apartment is just down the road. 2355, it's the building between the two Starbucks.”
“Okay, buzz me up when I get there.”
I ran through the rain for the last time, and got to the apartment. I buzzed the doors randomly until someone let me in, and got inside the lobby. I was shivering pretty hard, and I knew I'd probably be sick in the morning. I started to call Sarah to find out what apartment number she lived in when she appeared in the lobby wearing a long t-shirt.
And nothing else.
I looked at her blankly, and she ran up and hugged me. “Oh my God, Mark, are you alright?”
“Yes, yes.” I told her, leaning into the hug. “Thanks for giving me a place to sleep.”
“Gladly, I'm sorry about your apartment. Let's go upstairs and talk over coffee.”
She stepped back and looked at her own rapidly dampening shirt, “And some dry clothes.”
The apartment itself was small, but comfortable, with lots of girly colors and posh furniture. I sat against at the counter separating the kitchenette and living area, downing the coffee. I wasn't in much more than my boxers, but with Sarah in nothing but a t-shirt, so I was oddly comfortable. My clothes were running through the dryer cycle, and I explained what happened to my apartment while we were waiting for the clothes to dry.
After I had finished my story, Sarah looked pretty calm. I still felt in something of a shock from what happened, considering I was sitting in a girl's living room in nothing but my boxers. “That's terrible, Mark. Did any of your stuff make it?”
“Probably not. The only thing that I'll likely get out of that apartment is the bills.”
“Tough times.” She looked down the hall, and smiled, “Hey there, Leon.”
I turned, horrified that there was another guy in the house. Instead, I saw a small black cat. “Oh...” I said, worry coming out in a sigh, “hey kitty.”
“Mark, this is my kitty Ponce de Leon. Leon, this is my friend, Mark.”
“Hey kitty.” I told it, getting out of the stool to give it a scratch between the ears.
After coffee, Sarah gave me another hug, then went to bed for work in the morning. I thanked her, told her goodnight, and went to go find myself a nice comfortable couch to sleep on. To my surprise, the dark furred cat joined me on the couch. I went to sleep hearing the cat purr.
I woke up hearing the cat speak. “Alright, get up. You've had your sleep. The night has thus arrived. On your feet, time to move out.”
“Huh?” My mind wouldn't clear, but I knew someone was telling me to get up. I rolled off of the couch. “I'm going, I'm going.”
“Hardly the time to be sitting around lolly-gagging. You humans are miserably slow at moving about. On your feet, on the double, let's go.”
I hauled myself to my feet, and looked around for the source of the voice. It had a strong Spanish inflection, vaguely reminiscent of various Antonio Banderas movies I'd watched over college. For some reason, I thought to look down, and saw the cat staring at me. “Well, enough time wasted, let's move, human.”
“Move whe-” Click. “Holy hell and satanic hand baskets, you're a talking cat!”
“And you're a slow human, follow me please.” The cat began toward the door, and I just stood where I was, and gawked. The cat poked its head back in the door, blinked once, and turned back around. Suddenly, on it's own, my body moved toward the cat. The cat took to a jog, which my body decided to match, up the stairs. We jogged that way up two or three flights, and out onto the roof. Rain was still falling in sheets, and the gravel stung against my feet as I walked.
We walked to the lip of the building, and I noticed Sarah and another cat were already sitting on the roof, waiting for us.
“Juan.” Came a voice from Sarah's direction, the other cat. “Your human is slow.”
Leon turned to the other cat, rubbing his face against the other's in a very feline gesture, “Yours was too, when she first started.”
“Slower than yours, in fact.” The other remarked. They turned to me, then Sarah, who stood comfortably in the pouring rain, as if it were common-place.
I glared down at the little cats, “Alright, someone better tell me what the hell is going on.”
The wind gusted hard, and I nearly stumbled over the lip of the building. The light-furred cat sitting next to Sarah turned to me, “Ah, that's our cue.”
“Our cue for wha-” Without any sort of warning, I lobbed myself over the building, and the pavement five stories below rushed up very quickly to greet me.
I closed my eyes, and knew that even if I were going to die, I sure as hell didn't want to watch it.

Instead of coming to a violent stop and blackness swallowing me whole like I expected, I felt flooded by a sudden light, and lost my orientation. For a minute, the sensation of falling rocked, and I slammed against a wooden structure. It bobbed with me when I landed, and I felt the structure bob in rhythm with three thumps. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was on a row boat, with two short-looking Europeans in the front of the boat, and Sarah in the back.
I craned my head over the lip of the row boat, and saw ocean in three directions, and a shore a few feet away from the row boat. I jumped out of the boat and scrambled to shore, trying to control my breathing. “Stop, just stop. What the hell is going on?”
One of the Europeans, a young looking English boy, grinned , “You picked a winner, Juan.”
“Relax, human.” Called the other European, a Spanish man in traditional armor. “All will be explained soon.”
I waited where I was until the row boat had made it to the beach, and stared at the Spaniard expectantly. He ignored me, and hurried toward the forest. Sarah came to me, helped me up, offered me a reassuring smile, and we both followed the Europeans into the forest.
A small tent had been pitched in a small clearing, and Sarah got inside. She came back out shortly afterward in puffy trousers and clunky armor. There was a machete hanging from her belt, and her hair was tied up by two strips of leather. I blinked at her, then looked down at my own boxer-clad self. “Screw it, it's not like today can get any weirder.”
“The day is still young.” I heard from behind me as I entered the tent. Freaking cat-people-teleporter things. They still haven't told me what the hell was going on. In the footlocker on the floor, I found a puffy suit of clothes, and a few pieces of armor. I slowly pulled the clothes on, and took a few minutes figuring out how to attach the armor. I left the tent, creaking uncomfortably in the new, and poorly fitting armor. The Spaniard looked at me with a very amused expression, but clearly made an effort to say nothing. He walked into the tent as well. The small European boy, couldn't have been any more than 16 years old, walked up and tightened the straps on my armor. They fit quite a bit better, and moved less when I walked.
I heard a few locks slide into place, and then he came out and closed the tent. “Alright, we are ready to re-commence our search. “M'lady Sarah, this is your cue to take point.”
“Of course, Leon.” She told him, unclipping her machete. She walked toward the bush and walked through an opening in the brush, occasionally lopping off an overgrowth. “Okay, Leon, what the hell is going on?”
The young boy laughed, “Eloquent, isn't he, Juan?”
“Yes.” He said, distractedly, “Alright, sir, I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability. My name is Juan Ponce de Leon, I have been looking for the Fountain of Youth for several hundred years.” He turned to me, and asked, “And you, human, what is your name?”
“Uh... Oh. Marcus Robbins.”
“Very well, Marcus. To my right is Leonis Delacrue, my right hand boy.”
The European boy beamed at me, “Quite the honor, Marcus.”
“When you aren't making fun of me,” I grumbled, trudging along behind the duo. “So, why the hell am I part of this little excursion?”
“Simple,” Ponce de Leon said, “you shall help me find the fountain of youth, and our adventure can be done. Simple, no?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking around at endless jungle in all directions, “easy as breathing.”
After what felt like hours of walking with little to no signs of progress, I shifted the armor's straps onto a different part of my shoulder to distract my mind. “Ponce,” I said, “How am I going to get back to Orlando?”
“Ah, yes. Sarabelle asked me the same question. After the night is complete, you'll find yourself back in her apartment. Worry not.”
“Okay, I guess...”
After another few minutes, Leonis took Sarah's place with the machete and I spent the rest of the time catching up with her. We laughed about our trip to the downtown comedy club, talking about how the security almost threw me out. The reminiscing rapidly faded off, though, and was replaced with odd conversations.
“You alright, Mark?”
“I guess,” I told her, scratching my head, “this is just a little too weird for me. Why can't I just wake up in my own bed, comfortable and relaxed?”
“Because your apartment burned down.” She told me, looking forward blankly.
“Out of the fire, and into the frying pan? Not very comforting, all things considered.”
“Sorry, Mark. I didn't like it the first time, either.”
I looked at her, curious, “How many times have you done this so far?”
“I lost count, at least fifteen now.”
“Oh,” I said, sinking into an uncomfortable silence. Sarah smiled at me once, and pushed ahead to catch up with Leonis. “Delacrue, I'll take over.”
“Marvelous, my arm is sore something awful.”
After what could have been hours, we finally got to a sign of civilization. There was a sign bolted to a tree, but I couldn't focus on it. “Ah,” Ponce de Leon crowed at the sight of the sign, “where shall we go from here, Sarabelle?”
“Let's head west today.”
“Wonderful.” Ponce de Leon said.
“Exciting!” Leonis was genuinely happy.
“Ah crap.” Was my clearly enthused reply.
The trudge was boring, filled with the ramblings and stories of Ponce de Leon. Sarah had gotten a break from machete-duty because the forest abruptly cleared off. We were roaming the plains for the upwards of a few hours when we came to a small valley. Below were sounds of water, but it wasn't until we reached the edge of the cliff until I saw a natural fountain coming from a spring.
“Oh my Lord,” Ponce de Leon began, gaping at the spring below.
The cliff was completely lined with thick brush, and there were bushes and plants jutting from the water of the spring. I looked down at it, and heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, we found it. Use your strange cat-magic and get us back to Orlando.”
“But we've come so far,” Ponce de Leon said, readying himself to climb down the cliff toward the spring. “We must take of the fountain!”
“Hurrah!” Leonis cried, already getting down to brave the cliff. Before we could get our bearings to begin the long climb downward, there was a loud, warbling cry from above. As I turned to look, arrows streaked from the sky down onto us. I yelped, and slammed into the dirt on my stomach. The arrows were largely warning shots, only a few feather-flecked shafts slamming into the dirt and grass around me.
“God, save us all.” Ponce de Leon said, terror clear in his voice, “Tribals...”

Before I even had time to panic, Leonis was on his feet. I hauled myself to my feet, and saw Sarah and Leon already retreating. Leonis was already halfway around the crater, sprinting away from the clearing. I ran after them, hoping to get further away from the clearing before another volley of arrows came down on us. My lungs were already burning, but I continued to run. Weeds and rocks jutted around the floor, and I tripped over one while running. My legs caught each other on the stumble, and I dropped hard into the weeds.
No one turned to save me, but I managed to pull myself up and get a limping lope away. Arrows were now seasoning the ground around me, shafts piercing the dirt. I couldn't guess the time we ran from the clearing, but after what felt like hours of panicked running, we reached the forest edge. We were not equipped for combat, but Ponce de Leon would not have anything less than reaching the fountain. Right then, right there.
We took inventory of our “weapons,” which boiled down to roughly two machetes, and a crossbow with only a handful of bolts. Ponce decided that Leonis and I will take point, himself on our flank with the cross-bow, and Sarah at his flank with a sling.
We charged the now-appearing tribal warriors, Leonis deftly handling the machete with smooth, easy strokes. I aimed purposefully for their weapons, attempting to crush the weapons from their grasp. Ponce de Leon was merciless with the crossbow, striking heads and throats with flying bolts. Arrows were still flecking the ground around us, but in less volume. I was far more concentrated on not dying in close-quarters fight.
“Eyes up, gentlemen.” Called Ponce, spinning to my side and taking the machete from me. Sarah and I fell back, lobbing rocks from the far side of the plain. To our horror, we discovered the tribal warriors were dousing their arrows in fire. Burning shafts were already raining on the plain.
“Oh God,” I said, “more fire...”
“Too close to home, Mark?”
Flame-tipped arrows flew overhead, “Not funny, Sarah.”
“Sorry Mark, trying to laugh without freaking out.”
We continued fighting for what could have been minutes, or hours, when I heard something of a roar behind us. I turned, and saw the fountain of youth, the spring of eternal life, towering with flames. Sarah turned moments after I had, and sank to her knees, “Oh no...”
“Oh Heavenly Father...” Ponce De Leon sounded in shock, I turned, and he was on his knees, gripping dirt with his fingertips. “Please, God, no...”
“Leon, look out!” I moved toward him, leaping at the oncoming warrior. He raised his black-stoned weapon, and I rushed for him mid-air. His arm arced downward, and I knew there'd be no escape. I was going to die. For the second time in 12 hours, I closed my eyes. Death was not something I wanted to watch.
The small thrum of fire was the sound that greeted me when I opened my eyes again. My chest was uncomfortable, and I felt soft padding behind me. My eyes jerked open, and I shot upward. “Where am I?”
“Oh,” Sarah said, from the kitchenette, back in her apartment, “you're in my apartment.”
“What happened?” The cat on my chest looked at me, meowed once, and hopped off of my chest. I could breath again.
“Your apartment burned down.”
“What about the fountain of youth? How it went up in smoke?”
Sarah walked around the bar, setting eggs and bacon out on the table, “I... uh... Were you having a nightmare, Mark?”
Nightmare? “Was I?”
“Probably... Come on, I made some breakfast.”
We ate in silence, enjoying one another's company. We talked about nothing, and I didn't use my brain at all, just coasting through the entire conversation. When I finally broke out of my conversational reverie, my brain passed me a thought.
“Why aren't you at work?” My watch confirmed that she was very late.
“I called in sick today, my friend's apartment burned down.”
“Oh...”
She smiled at me, hugged me once, and said, “So c'mon, let's go house-hunting.”

~~~

Anyway, there's the cleaned up, updated, and complete version. On that footnote, you're very silly BR. You keep giving me hope of active members on the Writing forum, then you pull away the facade. Ah well.

[godslillangell]

Very nice; descriptive; clear. Nice plotline

only one suggestion: in a few places, the paragraphs seem a bit choppy, although it does seem to give a timeframe for it all..I did this. then this. and this!

so overall, I say you have a good mastery of the English language. (=

[fruiity toooty]

I read your second version, but only glanced at your first one. Hey, might as well spend the time reading the *better* version, right? Err, anyways. Aside from the second version being much, much longer, I've got a few comments that may or may not be helpful.

I can't say I'm very thrilled with how you depicted the start of the fire; it seemed confusing to me (but I am also very tired at the moment). First of all, the thumps, oh the thumps! I was bamboozled, befuddled, totally boggled (those are fun words, aren't they?) When you mentioned that there had been a *thump* in the hallway where Mark was trying to retrieve the fire extinguisher, I suddenly had the image of an earthquake.

Also, does cooking spam often result in fires? It doesn't quite connect for me. The guy tried to wipe off hot grease with his hand? And then he realized it was too hot, so he went to get a fire extinguisher that extinguishes fire and not grease? And then I was also puzzled on whether or not he started the fire. So... was a faulty propane gas thingie the start of the fire, or was it the greasy spam that had messed things up?

Aside from that, I enjoyed the detail you put into the beginning. The plot was weiiiird, though, but quite original. And hm, what else. Yawn, I'm getting tired.

Ahh, anyways, the sight of the block of text kind of discouraged me from reading this earlier. I understand that it's annoying imputing spaces and whatnot, but it would have been more visually pleasing, as shallow as that is.

I also don't see much wrong with the first version (excuse my overuse of also. It is definitely a crutch when it comes to transitions), aside from typos such as "a two firetrucks". I could see how the beginning of it lacked much substance in terms of detail, but it was meant to be a short blurb, wasn't it? No time to go all in dept about moms and inabilities to cook when you're in a hurry.

I do see that you could have smoothed things out a bit--just some polish, really.

Cheerio!
-Cath