SMOKE

The smoke is coming in at every angle. I fall to the ground, being pushed down by my lack of strength. Coughing takes over the lungs as I start sliding on the ground. A faint beam of light is where I'm headed as I try to slither on the floor, keeping away from the fumes. My fear has now turned to flight and there is some sort of strength in my crawling. I'm not sure where it is coming from but because of that I am able to get to the source of light. It is a small crack in the door, I don't know why I would have left it open. I usually make sure all of the doors are closed and locked. My lungs feel full of smoke and ashes but I grab the bottom of the door and pull. My efforts are useless but my head is calm. I pull again and this time the door swings open, with enough force that it almost hits me. The fresh air never felt so clean as I rolled down the stairs and away from the smoke, safe and sound.