The silent Fire in the curtained Hallway

"I was walking down this narrow corridor in my childhood home, but the walls were made of heavy, damp curtains instead of drywall. I knew I had to get to the back bedroom to find my old notebook, though I can't remember why it was so important. As I reached for a doorway, the air suddenly turned boiling hot, and I looked back to see bright orange fire crawling up the carpet behind me. It didn't make any sound at all—no crackling, just this terrifying silence as it ate through the floorboards. I tried to run, but my feet felt heavy, like I was moving through deep water. Then suddenly I wasn't inside anymore; I was standing out on the front lawn in my pajamas, watching huge flames burst out through the attic windows. The strange thing was, the front door was completely fine, but I knew deep down I could never go back in. I just stood there watching the dark smoke turn the night sky purple, feeling this knot of sheer panic in my chest."