A Life In The Day

‘Beep beep beep’ my alarm clock goes. Not another day. But I knew today was going to be completely different. I knew it was. But, how certain could I be? My only problem in life is that so many things are confusing. They say ‘Life is like a box of chocolates’, but how can life be referred to chocolate, when chocolate comes in many different flavours and coatings. Before I can tell my story, I must take you back to a important event, from 1725 in Warwickshire.

The sword slashes my face open, like a wolf hunting its pray by night. I wonder if I would ever see tomorrow. Maybe incapacitated, with fragmented bones. I dig deep within. Another slash I find. Blood began oozing from my face and arms. I needed help.

We Will Write a Custom Essay Specifically
For You Only $13.90/page!

order now

I unhurriedly arose from the darkest hide-away in my bedroom; my bed. For a moment or two, I seemed to think the world has ceases beyond belief, even quicker than the speed of light. I knew today was special. Today was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, which would never go unforgotten.

The floorboards creaked as I got up. Silence. Nothing to be heard. I gradually crept over the dark, imperfect floorboards, making my way to the door. Steadily, I open the door wide. Creaking. All I could hear was creaking. Silence was driving my sanity out of me. I wanted to make as much noise as possible, but I knew I couldn’t. But, could I? Could I take the risk?

I ran as fast as I could down the wooden stairs, leading to the kitchen. But, as I reached the last step, the aroma of bacon drifted towards me. Unsmoked bacon sandwiches with tomato sauce. Delicious! I knew today had to be an important day. Mum didn’t cook bacon sarnies very often, so something big was happening.

I opened the kitchen door with curiosity and interest. And there she was. My mum. The woman who I love with all my heart and always will do. Stood there. Humming to herself.

“Good morning, Jobo Hobo. Sleep well?” she asked.

“Morning! Yes, thanks. Had a few unusual dreams last night. Nothing to worry about though. Smells delicious!”

“Oh, thanks,” she replied. “All for my little princess on h? I tried working things out in my head, but my mind kept wandering away towards my thought of bacon. The scrumptious, most wanted smell wafts down into my lungs.

“It’s ready!” my mum interrupts my thoughts. I ran to my pink, sparkling chair at the dining table. I felt, for a moment, that my mother was waiting on me, but she wasn’t.

The smell of my sandwiches were luxuriant. My favourite smell of all time. In some ways, I feel remorseful for the pig that was killed for me to be able to eat. However, if another pr3edator needed food, wouldn’t they slaughter us humans? We would be a pretty good meal.

The smooth texture of the tomato sauce covers my lips, in its blood like form.

I has won the battle, but not the war. My family relatives will have to take on my deathly role and the Richman family will win the war. Once and for all.

Going steadily, I walked over to the fridge, where the gigantic calendar was placed. Oh my Gosh!

“I’ve got bowls at Leamington today. I totally forgot. Now, that was why Mum was cooking breakfast. Ahhhhhhh!” I ran upstairs as fast as I could, tripping on the way.

Opening my wardrobe with precision, I hunted furiously, for my bowls gear. White top, with ‘Wiltshire Amy Rose Team’ written on it, grey trousers, white trousers, white socks; the list goes on forever. Stacking everything up neatly on my bed, I finally found everything I needed. However, my next problem was that I needed to put some clothes on. Top and grey trousers. That will do.

I ran back downstairs, carrying my white trousers to go into my purple bowls bag. The house was still silent, until I walked into the front room. And there he was. Mark. Falling asleep again in the chair. Mark is my father, but I’m not allowed to call him ‘dad’, because that word reminds him of his father, and that brings back too many bad memories. I would explain all, but if I did, I would have all of this ripped up into a million pieces, and my heart would feel like it had be torn out and stamped on.

All I can say is that when I am older, I will have to make the biggest decision that will make the rest of my life. The decision where I have to decide which side of the fence I want to sit; my mum and Mark’s side or my grandparents and auntie’s side. But, the side I choose against, is the side of the family which I lose touch with and never talk to again. So, if I make the wrong decision, well….that’s the difference between life and death.