I was in my bedroom with the window open, when I heard someone in the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen. I saw a man who had amatch in his hand (which was ours) he looked like a murderer and a thief. He looked at me and ran out with a box full of jewlerry in his hands.

Our house was on fire. I tried to do something, I tried to say something but all that came to my mouth was a scream (a loud). All of us ran outside. As soon as I got out I realised that I forgot to wake up my poor sister.

Flames were growing higher and higher. I was scared to death not because our home was on fire but because I forgot to wake up my sister and probably now she was dead!

When I said the word "death" I began to cry for my sister's life. The ten years that we spent together were not enough for me to learn to take action, and now... now I may have lost the great person for me, my sister.

Wait, I saw someone at the window trying to get out. It was my sister she was still alive. I called 112 they came and rescued my sister.

The End

cry