I can remember that day, when I watched Dad force his lawnmower through the ferocious locks of grass; when Mum was baking her signature banana loaf; when I tumbled to the ground in a heap.
That day was when I first felt real pain.
I peered into the garden and watched as grass clippings were hurled into the compost.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it - the shiny piece of metal leaning against the wall.
I scampered outside, awoke it from its sleep, and went to the front of the house.
I was off. My hair flew behind my ears and the breeze built a scarf around my neck.
My feet pounded the pavement.
I felt as though I was zooming down the highway in a Ferrari.
My heartbeat sprang out of my chest.
Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom. On and on it went.
I could sense the asthma build-up inside my chest, the adrenaline through my veins.
Then it happened. SMACK! I was down.
That distinct, salty flavour of blood invaded my mouth.
Tears gushed from my eyes and slid down my cheeks.
It was like looking through a pair of scratched sunglasses.
I could barely make out my white letter box in the distance.
My hands stung, as though an army of bees had attacked them.
I could just make out the chirp of birds in the trees over my whining.
Then, I realised. My lip. My lip was open. Split down the middle like an unzipped bag.
I was a clueless, crying child, alone on an empty, deserted pavement.
As I gazed behind me, past the deep red droplets, it caught my attention.
The monster that had snatched me from my journey.
That measly monster with its sharp, grey demeanour.
The monster, with its penetrating smirk, standing tall and proud.
• By Lily Stock Year 9, Waitaki Girls' High School
