What was left of the kitchen was on fire, the flames consuming the lacy curtains at the small window and the crocheted covering that clung to the shattered remains of our table. The explosion came from the stove, triggered by my mother opening the oven door to put the bread in to heat up for breakfast, and boosted by the gas line. There was nothing left of her. I was grabbed, I couldn’t see my attackers. I struggled, but I couldn’t escape. They pulled me out of the rubble, tearing me from my father’s side as he drew his last breath...
-from Midnight Train (working title)
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