Personal Narrative: The Sheep

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Two to the left and one to the right; cars being swatted onto the rails like flies. Sluggishly roaming down the mountain, thinking this will never happen to us. Driving slow, trying not to break, we continued downhill. At times we could barely see as the wiper was no match for the snow and our chainless tires were no match for the ice. Holding my breath, our car began to slide. “We’re sliding!” screeched my little sister, Zoya. Pushing her hand off the steering wheel, I yelled at my mother “Don’t break!” Then silent and still was the car, finding ourselves in the middle of two lanes. Listening to our tired breaths turned to pants, we drove on.
Chaos thundering around us, cars lined up on the rails and the wind blew vigorously like a blizzard. The snow was turning into ice as it was hammered down by each car. Driving on the ice felt like skating without blades. The prevailing winds nudged us along until a tap of the breaks sent us hurdling onto the rails. Rather than the hard impact we feared, we smoothly drifted into a snow bank. My mother
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During my ragged nap, a heart filled stranger came to our aid and the police finally arrived. Although we were relieved for the help, we stood, discouraged by our immobile car. We drove back up the snowy mountain in the police’s car to enjoy a warm meal and snow chains. Our stomachs full and chains in hand, we began striding towards our car. Shivering from the cold, Zoya could barely keep up. Thanks to a kind and caring couple, we didn’t have to bear the cold for long. We were welcomed into the warmth of their car and they drove us to get snow shovels. Back down the mountain we rode with great anticipation to free our car from its icy prison. After 15 grueling hours of snow, the sun finally began to melt the ice. Digging the tires from their graves, the tires were finally released from Mother Nature’s shackles. Our angels reminded us about the goodness in the
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