It was dark and warm in the house, with Mom and Dad sleeping on either side of me, I felt comfortableand safe. It was so quiet in the house that the wood in the fire was crackling louder than usual. Our housewas one big room with stairs leading to the attic and a front porch entrance.
As I lay there, I studied the cupboards, chairs, and the stove pipe with their shadows. Then as I slowlylooked up at the ceiling I held a quick breath. I quickly pulled the covers over my head and stayed still forthe longest time. When I gained my confidence, I slowly pulled the covers from over my face. I took onelong look again and couldn't believe what I was seeing.
How could the stove make a fire up in the attic? It is burning up there, I'm sure it is, and no-one is awaketo know!
I decided to wake Mom and tell her. I rolled over quietly and called her in a whisper. She didn't move. Ielbowed her and called "Mom, I think the attic is burning."
"No, my little one," she whispered, "The fire you see up there is the shadow of the fire from within thestove. Just like the shadows on the floor and walls from the cupboards, stairs and chairs. So, sleep mylittle one."
She cuddled me and talked to me softly of tomorrow as she always did, when I couldn't sleep.