"...it was the smell of Granny's home."
Write a story using the words: fish, flowers, flames
To some, the memories of their Grannies are delightfully nostalgic albeit frustratingly intangible. So it was for me.
I would visit Granny every afternoon. A faint smell of fried fish always lingered in her house and that particular smell I associate with her house to this day. Everything else about Granny's home was delightful, from the wrought iron gate with a pretty, curvy pattern, to the huge, shaded verandah that went right around the house, to the pink crocheted counterpane on her bed. What charmed me most were the freshly-cut flowers from her garden, randomly placed a quaint vase in her bathroom.
My love for Granny was unbounded. She was gracious and, in my eyes at least, pretty. Best of all, she would tell me wondrous tales about her childhood, finishing them all off with a moral. She had great wisdom and compassion, and afforded me a lot of time and attention. She believed in me, encouraged me, brought out the best in me, and gave me confidence.
But these good times came to a tragic end when an electrical fault set her house ablaze. Late one night her neighbour noticed flames in the house. He rushed over, and Granny was screaming frantically that, in the darkness, she couldn't find the keys to her doors. The fire brigade came quickly. They broke into the house, grabbed Granny, and brought her outside.
It was too late. She had succumbed to burns and carbon monoxide poisoning.
I was heartbroken. My sweet, kind Granny didn't deserve to die such a horribly frightening and painful death.