The Tragic Day By: Quinton Leong In the village of Zau, in ancient Egypt, a family of four lived in a small hut. A young girl named Coaand her baby brother, Tutenkaro, lived with their parents Aras and Shao. When Coawoke up in the middle of the night to the smell of smoke and the terrified shrieks of the village people, she jumped out of bed to see what was happening. Her house was on fire. She grabbed her brother and tried to get out of the house, but a flaming collapsed archway blocked her path The hut was about to break. Her brother was crying and her parents were nowhere to be found. She grabbed her baby brother and ducked in a corner as the fire whittled away at what used to be her home. Her dad busted into the room right through the flaming doorway. As she turned around and saw her comforting home burning to cinders and blowing away in the wind. The village men were tossing buckets and jugs of water on the fire, but the fire kept burning. The sand from the dessert wind was hitting the walls of the hut and making it hard to cool down the flames and everyone in the face and our throws of water was being blown away. All of the pottery in the house that my mother and father made, even the tiny vases and bowls that she and her brother crafted burned and melted to nothingness. Tears swelled in her eyes as she watched her house and work was burned into cinders. “Dad, what is going to happen now?” I asked. “I don’t know.” he said obviously anxious. The villagers were rushing to get their livestock away from the fire. People ran away from the fire as their tunics and robes caught fire. The palm trees and dessert bushes caught fire and her dad said “Stay here and don’t go to close to close to the fire. I’ll be back, stay with your mother.” He said bossily. “Okay daddy.” said my Brother. He was whimpering and curled next to hos mother. I felt scared, sad, angry and stunned. One night I go to sleep, without a care in the world, and then, poof my house is on fire. “Mom, why is this happening, how did the fire start?” I asked, dazed and confused. “I don’t know sweetie, it just happened.” I thought she was speaking a little high. “Just sit down and wait, the village warriors will stop the fire, just stay here.” I wanted to say no and get up, but my mom held me down. Then my mom said “It’s going to be alright my darling.” As she said it almost made me believe it, almost. As the smell of burning mud and straw filed the air and village men choked on smoke. Corpses lined the ground. Then after several hours of smoke and fire, the flames died out, not by the water but it ran out of fuel to burn. My home, reduced to cinders, years of hard work gone with the wind. Then I cried.