Flames And Surprises

It all happened so quickly.

While my grandmother was outside burning old clothes, I had slipped away with a box of matchsticks I had taken from her. At six years old, my curiosity was louder than my common sense. I thought I could do what she was doing—make fire, control it. But fire doesn’t listen to children. Flames roared where they didn’t belong, leaping up the curtain, and smoke filled the air in seconds.

My grandmother’s scream still echoes in my ears—the sound of shock, fear, and disbelief.

That was the day I learned that curiosity could burn more than fingers—it could burn a home.

Her face turned pale when she saw the curtain already half-consumed by flames. She rushed forward without hesitation.

“Karl, go outside, right now!”

Her voice was sharp, trembling with urgency. I froze, shivering not from cold but from fear, my small body rooted to the floor. In a burst of courage, she grabbed the burning curtain, yanked it down, and stomped the fire out with her feet until smoke rose instead of flames.

I stood there watching, thoughts racing wildly through my head.

What if the whole house had burned down? Where would we sleep? What would happen to us?

My thoughts were cut short by a sharp sting on my cheek.

Slap.

“What were you thinking, playing with fire inside the house?” she shouted, her voice shaking with both anger and relief. “Don’t you ever repeat such a stupid thing!”

Her eyes blazed almost as fiercely as the fire had, and for a moment I thought she could throw me out of the house. But then she caught sight of my tearful eyes and trembling lips. Her voice softened, though she kept scolding me with endless warnings.

What scared me most was not her anger—it was the thought of my grandfather finding out. His punishments were far worse than a slap. I remembered the last time, when he caught me playing in the rain.

Time passed, and the house finally calmed. Evening settled, the smell of smoke still lingering faintly in the air. I sat by the window in my small room, watching the sun sink behind the hills. Then I heard it—the sound of my grandfather’s truck pulling into the yard. My stomach twisted with dread.

I lay down on the bed, pretending to sleep.

“Karl… Karl, come take your dinner,” my grandmother called softly.

I hadn’t realized sleep had carried me away until her voice pulled me back. At the table, my grandfather sat smiling, his eyes warm as always.

“How are you doing, my boy?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Grandpa,” I whispered, confused by his kindness.

“Come, eat before it gets cold,” he said, chuckling as he handed me a plate.

I moved slowly, my mind racing. Why isn’t he upset? Does he not know?

We ate together, laughter filling the room as my grandparents exchanged funny stories. The tension in my chest eased. When it was time for bed, my grandfather looked at me with a mysterious smile.

“Son, I have a surprise for you.”

My eyes widened. “What is it, Grandpa?”

“You’ll see tomorrow. Now go and sleep. Good night.”

“Good night, Grandpa,” I said, still filled with curiosity.

Later that night, my grandmother came into my room. She closed the door behind her and whispered, “Don’t worry, Karl. I didn’t tell him anything. I said it was all my fault. But you must promise me one thing—don’t ever tell anybody else. This will stay between us, okay?”

“Yes, Grandma,” I said quickly.

“Good. Now sleep well,” she said with a soft smile.

It was the second time my grandparents showed me their deep love—not only with discipline, but with protection. Happiness filled me, and all the fear disappeared. I fell asleep wondering what surprise awaited me the next day.

Morning came bright and early. I found my grandfather already outside, milking the cows. I rushed to him, eager to help, but he only chuckled.

“Not yet, Karl. Just watch. When you grow older, you’ll be able to help me.”

So I sat beside him, asking endless questions while my grandmother prepared breakfast. She called us in when it was ready. We ate eggs from our own chickens, warm bread, and fresh milk. Life in the village was simple but full.

After breakfast, Grandpa asked me to join him for errands. He needed lumber for his carpentry, and I was thrilled—my mind spinning with the thought that today, I would finally see the surprise.

We drove to a small store where he left me in the truck. When he came back, he was holding two ice creams.

“Here, before it melts,” he said, handing me one.

“Thanks, Grandpa!” I said, licking it quickly, my heart glowing with simple joy.

When we reached home, he smiled and said, “Go inside, Karl. Your surprise is waiting.”

I rushed in, full of anticipation.

“Karl, my handsome baby! I missed you so much!”

My mother’s arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly. I felt the warmth of her love all over again.

But then my small hands touched her tummy, round and firm.

“Mom… why is your stomach so big?” I asked innocently.

She laughed softly, her eyes glistening. “Oh, my son. That’s your little brother.”

I froze, surprised beyond words. A brother? I didn’t understand, but I knew that everything was about to change again.

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