It was the perfect weather for leaf watching, and my housemate Julie and I meant to spend the weekend with our friends in the north Georgia mountains. "Don't you want to come along?" Julie asked her 15-year-old son, Mark. "Enjoy the leaves by yourselves," he told her. "I'll be fine staying home by myself." Julie and I drove there in my car after work on Friday. On Saturday morning we hiked along the mountainside and enjoyed the beautiful colors. All of a sudden, I had a terrible feeling. "Go home," a voice seemed to urge me. I couldn't explain it, but I didn't want to be here any more. I just wanted to go home. "Carol, calm down. You're being silly," Julie said. But the urge just got stronger. "I've got to leave," I said. "If you want to stay, you can get a ride back with everyone else tomorrow." Julie stood up. "No, I'll go with you," she said. We almost didn't talk during the two-hour trip back. I felt very guilty. Finally, we pulled in. The lights were on in the house, but something was strange. The windows seemed to be fogged up. Julie opened the door and smoke poured out. "Mark!" she shouted. "Mark!" We rushed inside and found him asleep on the sofa. Shaking him awake, Julie grabbed him. I grabbed the source of the smoke -a pillow too close to the fireplace. I then took it outside and threw water on it. Mark had built a fire to keep warm, and some embers (灰烬) had flown out. The whole house could have gone up if we hadn't gotten there just then! |