Fire terrifies me too. When I was an adolescent, my younger brother accidentally set his hand on fire when he lit a match with a gasoline soaked hand. He was only about 8 years old. I can still hear his screams. Its a wonder he has the use of his hands, but we got the flames out before they were able to do much damage to the nerves and tendons.
Then, in 1999, losing my youngest daughter in that house fire when her furnace heat shield developed a crack, allowing the flames of the pilot light to ignite the house timbers around the floor furnace. The house went up like a tinder box, trapping her and her boyfriend. For months afterward, I could imagine her screams and her pain. It still haunts me.
Not long afterward, I accidentally forgot to pay my gas heating bill. The gas company shut off our gas, and after I paid the bill, the repairman came to relight our pilot light. He found the same malfunction in our basement and said our house would have been the next to burn down. So we put in a new furnace, heat and smoke detectors, carbon monoxide detectors, and fire extinguishers. We get our furnace checked on a regular basis and I usually remind our friends and neighbors to do the same.
As the 5th anniversary of her death comes near (Feb. 21), I find myself thinking of my beautiful daughter more and more.