My aunt was holding on to the bike with both hands. I made her promise not to let go. She swore that she wouldn’t. But of course being the person that she is, as soon as I was really starting to get fast she let go. My bike immediately swerves to the right. I fall off of the bike and into the bushes. Then I started rolling down the steep hill that leads to the pond that separates my house from my neighbors. I call it the pond of death. But with good reason. This pond is no ordinary pond. This pond is filled with snakes, leeches and a bunch of mud and really gross stuff. So, down and down I roll until smack! I hit the boulder dead on. When I think about it now I wonder why I couldn’t see it coming. That thing was huge! But anyways, I can hear my Aunt calling my name, “Salina! Salina are you okay?” Well of course I wasn’t. Eventually she came and got me and hauled me back up the hill. Thankfully I wasn’t that badly hurt. Just some bad scrapes and bruises. There was a lot of blood though. By the time my aunt had calmed me down enough to check my wounds, I was crying hysterically for my mother. I knew my mom was on a big, important phone conference but when you’re seven years old and bleeding you just don’t care. So heart thumping, arms pumping, I ran inside and started banging on the door to where her meeting was being held as hard and as loud as I could. “Mom! Mom!” I screamed. But she never answered. So sweaty and hurt, I went upstairs to sulk. Finally about 2 decades later, my mom came upstairs to check on me. I told her what had happened and how much I was mad at my aunt. She asked if I was all right and of course by then I was. That day I told myself and anyone else who would listen, that I would never, ever ride my bike ever again. Now I ride my bike almost 4 times a day every day.
The Pond of Death (map story)
May 27, 2010