The Kick

October 11, 2010
By Anonymous

The day was sunny . . .
I thought it was going to be the best day ever.

I was playing with my friends outside
Having a good time
Playing kickball
My friends kicking the ball so much
They wouldn’t let me play.
Mad, I was mad.
Finally, I got to kick once and then more.

I was going to kick the ball, but then my mom
Called for me to come inside.
“Can’t I have a little longer time to play outside?”
“No, come inside now,” she told me.
I didn’t listen.
I kept on playing.

The last thing I remembered was I was going to kick.
When I opened my eyes, I was on the ground
Crying, crying.
I broke my hand.
My mom saw me and came out.
“Help me.”
She pulled me by my ear and pulled me to the house.
I was still crying.
Mom was mad.

That evening my dad came home and looked at my arm.
“Something is wrong.”
My mom felt bad and told me she was sorry.

We had to go to the hospital.
It was midnight.
My mom and dad got lost trying to find the hospital.
We were tired.
We didn’t get there until 4:00 in the morning.

The doctors started helping me right away.
I got a white cast.
It really hurt, so my dad carried me to the car.

I finally got home and got some rest.
The lolly-pop made me feel a little better.
Finally, I was watching TV and fell asleep.

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