Welcome to Gaia! ::

I'm starting on a new story, and I wanna know what people think. Here's the prologue/first chapter:
The scent of smoke wafted over me, sharp and acrid. It made my throat sting and my eyes water as I gazed up at the fiery sky. My breath came in shallow gasps and my chest burned. My brain was too sluggish and slow to register anything else.
I don't know how long I laid there before dark blurry figures entered my vision and bent over me. One of the figures pressed a hand to my brow and muttered something to its partner. I closed my eyes then and drifted into unconsciousness.
​
When I next woke, I found myself surrounded by darkness. I was lying on something soft and cushy with something heavy on top of me. Something cold and wet was lying on my forehead. I wanted to take it off, but I couldn't find the strength to lift my hand. The beginning of a question surfaced in my mind, but it vanished before I could grasp it. What seemed like an eternity later, a crack appeared in what I now realized were thick curtains surrounding the bed that I now laid in. The crack widened, letting in light with it, and a man stepped up to me. My gaze swept slowly up and down, memorizing his features out of long- standing habit.
​
The man's shoulder-length blonde hair was neatly combed and flared outwards, framing his not unkindly face. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, his small dark eyes set midway back into his skull. His thin, pointed nose was ever so slightly off center and his clefted chin jutted out sharply. He wore a dark brown suit with a matching striped tie. Something about him appealed to me. I decided to trust him.
​
The man broke the silence with a question: "What's your name?"
"Nathaniel" I answered, wincing. Speaking had reawakened the soreness in my throat. The hoarseness of my voice caused the man to frown.
After another few moments of silence, the man more-or-less introduced himself to me: "You can adress me as Mr. Taylor".
I nodded and the man sat down on the edge of my bed, letting out a long and tired sigh as he did so. "Due to recent circumstances, which I do not care to elaborate on, I am to become your foster father".
​
My mind was finally starting to speed up again, and I blinked. Foster father? What had happened to my real father? Images flashed through my mind: fire, people lying in the streets and half buried under rubbel, familiar faces. I blinked again and rubbed my eyes. Had I gotten caught in some freak accident or something? I couldn't remember.
​
I slowly sat up and the wet thing, which turned out to be a dampened cloth, fell into my lap. Mr. Taylor reached over to remove it before speaking. "Your parents are gone, Nate."
The nickname went completely unnoticed. Gone? As in dead? Strangely, the realization brought no emotion. The thought seemed distant, unimportant. "What happened?"
Mr. Taylor sighed again, a deep, groaning sigh. "An accident happened. A horrible, frightening accident."

The man broke the silence with a question. "What's your name?" period, not colon. It's just dialogue.
"Nathaniel" I answered, wincing. Speaking had reawakened the soreness in my throat. The hoarseness of my voice caused the man to frown.
After another few moments of silence, the man more-or-less introduced himself to me: "You can adress me as Mr. Taylor". If you're going for proper/formal, use the word "may"
I nodded and the man sat down on the edge of my bed, letting out a long and tired sigh as he did so. "Due to recent circumstances, which I do not care to elaborate on [right now?], I am to become your foster father". I want to know these circumstances. Yes I do.I imagine you're planning to reveal them later, though.
​
My mind was finally starting to speed up again, and I blinked. Foster father? What had happened to my real father? Images flashed through my mind: fire, people lying in the streets and half buried under rubbel, familiar faces. I blinked again and rubbed my eyes. Had I gotten caught in some freak accident or something? I couldn't remember.
​
I slowly sat up and the wet thing, which turned out to be a dampened cloth, fell into my lap. I'm okay with this clarification Mr. Taylor reached over to remove it before speaking. "Your parents are gone, Nate."
The nickname went completely unnoticed. Not in first person, it didn't. If it's mentioned, it means the narrator noticed. Gone? As in dead? Strangely, the realization brought no emotion. The thought seemed distant, unimportant. "What happened?"
Mr. Taylor sighed again, a deep, groaning sigh. "An accident happened. A horrible, frightening accident."

WANT MOAR!! First person is hard that way. You can't make third-person observations, and it's easy to slip up. Anyway, you grabbed my attention and I am intrigued with the story so far. Also, which editing style did you prefer? The one with quotes or just the blue text?

Chapter 1 revised, take 1:

The scent of smoke wafted over me, sharp and acrid. It made my throat sting and my eyes water as I gazed up at the fiery sky. My breath came in shallow gasps and my chest burned. My brain was too sluggish and slow to register anything else.

I don't know how long I laid there before my mind finally registered the dark blurry figures bending over me. One of the figures pressed a hand to my brow and muttered something to its partner. I closed my eyes then and drifted into unconsciousness.

When I next woke, I found myself surrounded by darkness. I was lying down, but I felt like I was floating. After a few moments, I became vaguely aware of something heavy lying on top of me. The beginning of a question surfaced in my mind, but it vanished before I could grasp it. After what seemed like an eternity, a crack appeared in what I now realized were thick curtains surrounding a bed that I now laid in. The crack widened, letting in light with it, and a man stepped up to me. My gaze swept slowly up and down, memorizing his features out of long- standing habit.

The man's shoulder-length blonde hair was neatly combed and flared outwards, framing his not unkind face. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, his small dark eyes set midway back into his skull. His thin, pointed nose was ever so slightly off center and his clefted chin jutted out sharply. He wore a dark brown suit with a matching striped tie. Something about him appealed to me. I decided to trust him.

The man broke the silence with a question. "What's your name?"
"Nathaniel" I answered, wincing. Speaking had reawakened the soreness in my throat. The hoarseness of my voice caused the man to frown.

After another few moments of silence, the man more-or-less introduced himself to me: "You may adress me as Mr. Taylor".
I nodded and the man sat down on the edge of my bed, letting out a long and tired sigh as he did so. "Due to recent circumstances, which I do not care to elaborate on, I am to become your foster father".

My mind was finally starting to speed up again, and I blinked. Foster father? What had happened to my real father? Images flashed through my mind: fire, people lying in the streets and half buried under rubbel, familiar faces. I blinked again and rubbed my eyes. Had I gotten caught in some freak accident or something? I couldn't remember.

I slowly sat up and something fell into my lap. It was a dampened cloth. Mr. Taylor reached over to remove it before speaking. "Your parents are gone, Nate."
The nickname barely registered. Gone? As in dead? Strangely, the realization brought no emotion. The thought seemed distant, unimportant. "What happened?"
Mr. Taylor sighed again, a deep, groaning sigh. "An accident happened. A horrible, terrifying accident."

Oh yeah. Heh heh. "rubble" not "rubbel".
I'm still trying to decide if I want to introduce more non-anonymous characters or if I just want to stick with "Nate" and Mr. Taylor for now...