My attempt at writing a short story

Memories by the boy inside the man.

A story entitled; Don’t smoke


I found my dad’s lighter for the first time at 8 years old, as it fell out of his coat pocket hanging in the closet. I had seen my dad use this contraption before and I was fascinated by the fire the lighter made. I thought to myself in a spit second, that today was the day I would try using the lighter myself, for the first time. Then came a problem, what would I set on fire as I was in the house. Well my mother was very proud of her Victorian style house which came complete with a large fully enclosed foyer and a leaded paneled glass doors that lead to the inside of the house, which I closed. As I scanned the foyer my eyes became focused on a large vase which contained pampas grasses, arranged tall and bushy. I quickly made up my mind that the grasses would be my first test material for making fire. I was very apprehensive and fearful but worked up enough courage to go through with my plan. I thought carefully about how I would attempt my first interaction with the lighter and the material chosen. I proceeded cautiously with great precision and safety in mind. I forcasted what might happen and then came to my moment of bravery. I would grasp a very small section of the grass in my hand so only a very small piece would burn when touched by the striking of the lighter, a brilliant idea! Once I had the grass firmly in my grasp I struck the lighter moving the flame slowly and cautiously closer to my fuel source. I remember hearing a wooosh sound and the foyer getting a lot brighter, the small flame in my grasp had instantly turned grasses into a raging inferno from passing straight through my clenched hand. The whole vase of grass had exploded with fire. I quickly grabbed my grassy torch and ran outside. In a state of panic and fear I began waving my flaming torch back and forth trying to desperately extinguish the inferno. Well the waving maneuver was a big mistake, now flaming embers filled the air falling dangerously to the ground and thick black smoke was all around me now.

The whole fiery event took less than one minute. I stood there for a moment holding the smoldering remains of my first fire until a thought hit me. Could I explain the missing grasses from the foyer by making up a fib about their disappearance from the vase and was there any other evidence of the fire occurring. I rushed back into the foyer to see my answer had been provided. There before me was a large black sooty scorch mark running up the wall. I conceded my attempt to deceive my parents that day and took full responsibility for my action, learning a valuable lesson,

Don’t smoke.


Terence P. Hill
PS: I love you Dad