Power of Memory Final Project
And then I got to it, the dustiest room in the house! I was bubbling up inside and quickly skipped to the first table. It was a round wooden table holding two pictures and a Yankee Candle. Moving closer, I took in the heavenly vanilla scent. The hypnotic aroma intrigued me, like a siren alluring a sailor.
I dusted all around the candle. The flame danced on the black wick. I gleefully leaped around the table and the floor creaked every time I hit the ground again. I knew I had to get every speck of dust, just like my mom had taught me. I wanted to impress my grandmother!
The dust rested on top of the cream colored wax. I tried to pull myself away, but it happened too quickly to stop. Something invisible had taken over my body and forced my hand. I shoved a couple of feathers in the candle.
The flame suddenly got bigger, like it wanted to reach up and scold me for playing with it. I ripped the sparkling duster out of the flame. I panicked! My heart pounded so hard. My grandma sensed it. My breathing got faster and faster. Fear rose up. I could hear my voice trembling as I called for her. I held the rod of the duster so tightly my nails curved around it and dug deep into my skin.
Grandma was around the corner and came hurriedly towards me. Seeing the flames, she grabbed the duster and hurled it to the wooden floor with a bang. She started stomping on the bright, orange flames, picking her right leg up and pounding it on the duster continuously. "Thwack, Thwack, Thwack!" The flames slowly vanished.
I always wondered how my grandmother, as fragile as she was, had the strength to stomp out the flames. It turns out she was secretly doing water aerobics Tuesday mornings while Grandpa was at book club!
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