[ RF ] Let 's stop for a moment with all of those `` paranormal '' scary stories . Write a terrifying piece that could really and plausibly happen to anyone .

Warm sun beams poured through the skylight and met the nape of my neck as I carefully side stepped my way down stairs and wandered into my living room with an overwhelming bunch of art supplies piled in my arms. They were stacked so skillfully, balanced in a manner that only a person with immense and equal parts of laziness and motivation could accomplish. A true `` one trip wonder'' as people would call me. 
 
 The air smelled like summer that day; a combination of ocean and bonfire on the breeze coming from the beach. The house was calm and the hum from the dishwasher was almost melodic. My mind was settled into a hazy content state I could only dream of and I laughed as I jokingly asked myself what this wonder drug was and where I could get some. It had been a few weeks since I last painted and what better reason than this serene afternoon to start something new. 
 
 A feeling of peace guided my hand as I set up and in the second that my brush started to glide across the canvas leaving a trail of stunning blue I was abruptly ripped from my peaceful day by a painful and terrifying scream. 
 
 The brush bounced of the table and the palette flung into the air as I jumped up and rushed towards the sound. A hard right into the hallway revealed a pool of red and a trail of footsteps that brought me to a halt. I took a deep breath that felt like my last and continued cautiously while preparing myself for whatever was behind the bedroom door. I approached the room and quickly flung open the door to find a scene Richard Ramirez himself would be proud of. The baby pink walls were spattered and smeared with red; a serial killers masterpiece worthy of a spot in the deep dark corners of the internet. My son was in the corner and my daughter was on the floor in the middle of the room clutching the broken pieces of her favorite bracelet. 
 
 `` Who did it?'' I blurted out shakily as I tried to hold in the urge to curse at two small children. 
 
 My increasingly frustrated inquiries were met with buckets of tears about the broken bracelet and an amazing amount of credit granted to the family dog. According to my angelic 2 and 4 year old the dog picked up a container of red paint I dropped, dumped it in the hallway and then smeared it all over the kids and the walls. He also made some impressive human hand and footprints and did this all without thumbs! What a dog! 
 
 My husband arrived home amidst my state of shock and and after letting out a restrained laugh said only two words, `` the kids or the mess?'' My eyes darted in the direction of the sobbing snot and paint soaked monsters to my left and within seconds they were out of my sight -- if only all my problems worked that way. 
 
 I tossed an emergency frozen dinner in the oven and then focused my attention on the paint disaster. As I wiped down the walls I noticed how hot the house was getting. It was evident from the red paint on the thermostat that someone had messed with the heater, which seemed strange because neither the kids were able to reach or open the control panel. I tried to switch it off, but it did n't seem to make a difference. They had broken it of course. 
 
 
 I heard my husband shouting from the bathroom, `` We need to open the windows now!!! We need air!!!'' 
 
 
 My lack of response then prompted a very over dramatic, `` I'm going to smash them in!!!!'' 
 
 
 `` Okay okay calm down I'm opening them right now,'' I retorted back annoyed at his sudden attitude change, but something caught my nose before I had the chance to. 
 
 
 `` Fuck. Dinner.'' 
 
 
 I raced into the kitchen to save the frozen lasagna and my husband and kids were close behind. I opened the over door and plumes of smoke billowed out. The kids fell into chaos screaming and crying while my husband became uncharacteristically frantic. 
 
 
 `` We need to get out now!!! We need to fucking go!!!! Let's go!!!!'' he screamed as I stared into the oven. 
 
 
 *How did I manage to light a frozen lasagna on fire in under 10 minutes. It's only been 10 minutes....* 
 
 
 I began to feel light headed. My daughter was sobbing about her broken bracelet and my son screamed louder. The smoke seemed to have stained the walls rather quickly as they were turning charcoal black and I could n't make sense of any of it. Nothing was making sense 
 
 
 `` VERA!!! VERA!!! VERA!!!'' He kept shouting. 
 
 
 `` Why are you yelling at me I'm right here stop!'' 
 
 
 He grabbed my shoulders and with a single violent jolt I awoke on the floor disoriented and confused. 
 
 
 *It was a dream. What a shit show thank god. * 
 
 
 But I still could barely breathe. And reality quickly set in. I had awoken to a real life nightmare. My husband was standing over me engulfed in flames with my daughter next to him the floor. 
 
 The house was on fire and we were trapped inside. 
 
 It all made sense now; the beachy campfire breeze, the warmth of the sun, the chaos and crying, the heater, the windows, the screaming. 
 
 My subconscious had taken all of this and brought it into my dream from the very start of the fire. 
 
 I sat up and glanced at my daughter who was sobbing next to me and I noticed her wrist appeared to be severely burned. 
 
 
 *her metal bracelet oh my god* 
 
 
 My husband disappeared into the flames to save our son who's screams were growing louder and louder and then all at once fell silent. 
 
 My daughter was n't crying anymore. 
 
 I lowered my head onto the floor next to my daughter's and as I drifted out of consciousness I heard glass shatter and a mans voice calling from the window. 
 
 
 *maybe my husband made it out* 
 
 
 I lost everything I had except my life the night our home went up in flames. 
 
 Every dream since has forced me to relive that night and every time I wake I feel like I'm going die. 
 
 
 Not even sleep can save me now. 
 
 
 
 
 

