My Life - Original Writing

1463 Words6 Pages
Recently, I heard some rather grim gossip about my old babysitter which made me think of a particular summer morning, bookmarked in my long-term memory.
During the school holidays in my ninth summer, I was lying under the garden tree, staring at a singular leaf that was eclipsing the summer sun as the zephyr tenderly blew it back and forth; giving it a seductive allure, while thinking about the previous night. Mother and father were having an agitated discussion downstairs in the living room. Sitting on my bed not able to sleep; listening to the muffled nouns and verbs fencing between them, Until my father screamed with the utmost burning clarity "every cloud has a silver lining" followed by a slam of the front door. Not
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Three police cars and a red Ferrari Mondial were ready for today 's episode. From time to time, I 'll go and play with those cars and fantasize the uneven duality between the good guys and the bad men. Although, the criminal in these imaginings was not a villain; his motives for the crimes were somewhat chivalrous, whereas the police had a fraudulent agenda.
The misunderstood hero in a Robin Hood fashion would Steal from the corrupt and give to the desolate; escaping from high-speed chases in a Ferrari Mondial, ransacking the tall concrete bank towers, which overshadow shanty towns in a totalitarian city. My father once referred the police as pigs, so I incorporated the image into my playing.
The police were evil humanoid pig creatures wearing man masks always outfought by the hero.
It 's quite jocose when I reminisce about it now, and I 'm sure it 's common among young lads that they would often think of themselves as the protagonist; with a strong mature body. I know I did.
The acts of heroism would never be the act of violence, so I would employ the antics of laughter. Such as performing Chaplinesque comedy routines during a heist, making the cold blue bloods laugh so hard they fainted red, thus, allowing for the take. Just as I was about to leap in the getaway car, I heard my mother call my name, and like a pin to a bubble, I popped back into reality. Mother had to go to work in the mornings, and as it was summer holidays, could not look after me. So she
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