Rain was pouring through a leak in the ceiling. It felt as if the weather wouldn't improve any time soon, and it seemed as if the house was going to flood and everyone would die of hypothermia. But not Olive. She was the only one who could prevent her parents from getting frostbite and colds. But she didn't know what she was capable of yet. If her seven year old mind could only start to comprehend the power that she would soon have.
"I'm not spending another night in this dump!" Olive's father shouted angrily to his wife. Scared, Olive held her hands to her ears and tried her best to drown out the yelling of her frustrated parents. After what seemed like ten hours, the rain stopped, but this did nothing to silence her arguing mother and father. Maybe if I go in there, they'll stop yelling, she thought to herself.
Slowly, Olive stepped carefully around the damp patches on the carpets and made her way into the living room. Her father was glowing bright red, whereas her mother had a sickly, white hue.
"Olive." Her mother's voice was hoarse, and came out as barely a whisper. "Go back to bed. I'm sorry your father and I were shouting so much."
Olive shook her head. "Please stop arguing. Can't you and daddy make friends again?"
"Olive, you really should get back to bed," Her father said, sounding exasperated. Olive knew that he was probably going to start fighting with her mother again, and that nothing would ever get better.
"Maybe we could let Olive sit down, just for a while?" Her mother asked, looking at Olive earnestly with her large, honest green eyes. "I could go and get some blankets to warm us all up."
"Yes, that would be an excellent idea, and then maybe we could resolve this quarrel."
Olive sat down on the comfiest armchair with had several cushions on it that her grandmother had sat and embroidered for hours, just for the family when they had originally moved into the house. Olive snuggled up and instantly felt herself warming up. Her mother soon came back with blankets, giving two to Olive, who soon felt herself drifting off to sleep.
She woke up to a smell of burning. Her parents were nowhere to be found. Olive quickly assumed that her mother was probably burning the toast, her father was most likely fast asleep or out early fishing with his friends from the village.
Darting her eyes around the room, Olive realised that the burning seemed to be coming from something that as much closer, and then she got the feeling of extreme heat. She was on fire!
Screaming as if there was no tomorrow (which, put it this way, unless she acted fast, there wasn't going to be), Olive ran for the pond. As she opened the door, the flames seemed to latch on to the wooden door frame, which was spreading to the tables and chairs outside, which was spreading to the fence. Strangely enough, Olive's hands and arms were completely unmarked, as was the rest of her, although Olive has to check several times before she was quite sure her hair had not burst into flame; she realised that her hair was just the same colour as the fire that had started. But how? Her family didn't own a fireplace, and the kitchen didn't seem to be on fire either, if her mother had burnt toast. The fire had started around her, and she had no sign of any burns or injuries. Had she started the fire? Was she responsible for all of the destruction that she was creating. Olive never had shown any signs of anything like this before, so why now?
But there was virtually no time for anything, except from to save and warn her parents from what would be an almost certain death.
Olive raced back into her house, and headed for her parents' bedroom. Her father was still asleep, and Olive needed to act quickly. She shook her father urgently, who was starting to groan angrily. "Jane, I don't need you to wake me up like this for church every Sunday morning."
"Daddy! Get up! There's a big fire!"
Her father shot up quickly and looked at Olive with a look of great disbelief.
"What?" He asked groggily.
"Come on!" Olive took her father's arm and dragged him out of bed.
"Damn!" Her father exclaimed at the top of his voice.
"We have to get mummy! Quickly!"
Olive's father gently clasped her shoulders. "No Olive. You run as fast as you can, and don't look back. Go to the village and get help. Get as many people as you can. I'll find your mother."
Olive did exactly as he said, running as fast as her small, slender legs could carry her, and did not look back at her burning house.
