W3, #6: Memory is a Curious Thing

Set-Up: During Unferth’s response to the visiting warrior Beowulf, his childhood is brought up. In this situation, his integrity and loyalty is attacked. Beowulf — besides suggesting that Unferth’s tongue might be a bit thick with alcohol — boldly responds to this attack with a clear re-telling of a vital series of events from his childhood.

In essence, his childhood memory is both his sword and shield in the first ‘fight’ we witness.  Kind of an interesting plot twist for a hero capable of fighting sea monsters, the spawn of Cain, and angry dragons.

Challenge: Write a response to the following question:

What is the earliest childhood memory — where you were the ‘hero’ or center of the story — that you are 100% convinced you remember?

Note: to the best of your ability, try to recall/describe a memory that does not require being reinforced by photographs and/or family members telling you key details.

Length: 7+ sentences

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28 responses to “W3, #6: Memory is a Curious Thing

  1. This happened when i was about 5-6 years old.

    I was getting back home from school and as i was getting out of the car i left the tip of my finger on the edge of the door and slammed the door shut. I know for a fact that i was crying nonstop and that there was blood all over the floor. I nearly lost my finger and i remember it dangling from a piece of skin still attached to my finger.

    The next thing i remember is going to the hospital where the doctors injected me with some anesthsia. i am unsure of what happened after that i just know that my finger tip was always “different” from my other one.

  2. This may be completely off base, but this is a story where I felt like I was the ‘hero’.

    When I was younger, around five years old, I was completely and totally obsessed and infatuated with Hercules. I was Hercules for at least two Halloweens in a row, and I have to admit, I had a pretty awesome costume. Naturally, I would wear this costume around the house and pretend that I was Hercules all the time. When dressed in my Hercules outfit, I remember feeling like I really was Hercules and that I could do everything he could do.

    One Saturday morning, I woke up, and it felt like the right kind of day to become Hercules, so I outfitted myself in the costume, cape and all, and strolled through the house, looking for any situation in which a ‘hero’ was needed. With no monsters in sight inside the house, I sauntered outside and took stock of my surroundings. My dad was mowing the lawn on his riding lawn mower, we had a pretty big backyard back then, and my mom and sister were watering the plants in the garden, basically my mom was watering the plants, and my sister was trying to get in the water. Slightly disappointed because of a lack of danger and no audible cries of help, I began to test out my “Hercules” strength. As I was walking around the yard, lifting various objects, I felt unfulfilled. Maybe it wasn’t the best day to be Hercules, but I was determined to make something good of it.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I see the house. Remembering that momentous Disney movie and how Hercules was able to easily catch a stone pillar and lift a giant, the house seemed to be an easy task in comparison. I gallantly strode over to the house, picking a spot with care, the corner of the garage. I was positioned so my family members could witness this heroic event and be amazed, I mean, what hero honestly wants to save someone with nobody to watch or praise them for it? I bent down and tried to grip the bricks of the house and lifted with all of my “Hercules” might, but sadly the house did not budge. I attempted the great feat again and again, but it was not meant to be. Forlorn, I walked back into the house and shed my attire, going back to the normal me for Hercules was gone for the day.

    Yes, I was subject to much ridicule by those who were meant to observe my incredible exploit with wonder and disbelief. Even today, that story is brought up in casual conversation and laughed about. Sure, I laugh along, but in my heart, I know that one day Hercules will be back, in the full splendor that is Hercules. Then, I will see who will be laughing when Hercules is the one that saves the day.

  3. The memory I remeber best is when i was four.

    My mom, dad, sister and I went to a mavericks game, my first ever. I was so excited and couldn’t wait. When we arrived we went to our seats, we were just above the floor seats. It was so nice and I was so excited. As half time rolled near, mavs man was going through the stands taking pictures. He came closer and closer to where my family and I were sitting. He eventually made his way to our seats where he grabbed my hand and led me down the stairs to the court.

    Now remeber mavs man does not talk, so my parents were clueless as to where I was going and what I was doing. As I got to the court they sat me in a red wagon next to some other little boy. They handed me one of those big foam fingers and the boy got some clappers. As half time came my new friend and I, in our little red wagon were taken onto the court with all the maverick cheerleaders. We sat on the court all halftime cheering and having fun.

    We made it onto the screen and what can be better then seeing yourself on the big screen when your four?

    Its a night i will never forget.

  4. I’ve been thinking about this for a little bit and I think the earliest memory I can recall is from preschool. There’s another one but I don’t know when it’s from, so we’re going to stick with this one.

    I wasn’t a hero, but it was definitely centered around me. I was walking in circles around the playground with my friend. I can’t recall who the friend was. if that means I’m self centered or something I don’t want to know so please don’t go all psychologist on me.

    Anyway, we were trying to find something to do or a game to play because we didn’t want to play on the slide or anything. I remember discussing the older kids (you know, the second graders, maybe even the fifth graders. They were really cool.) and the shirts they got to wear. (They were red) Then I suggested that we go look for ladybugs.

    Right as that came out of my mouth, a bee shot down from the tree next we were walking past and stung me on the back. I didn’t know why, other kids had walked by that same tree that day and hadn’t gotten stung, so until I knew better I believed the bee misheard me and thought I wanted to go hunt it down or something.

    Then my memory jumps to me at home on the couch (I was either a wimp or they felt sorry for me because they sent me home) and my mom was putting something on my back to ease the pain. I think that’s about all I can recall.

    I hope this wasn’t supposed to be epic or anything, but that’s all that comes to mind.

  5. One of best memories as a child revolves around the first role I played in a production. The production was “E-I E-I oops” and I was six years old. I was attending this school but this was before the huge performance hall had been built and so we preformed on a stage in the MAC.

    My first grade class was picked to be the pigs in the production and I was very excited. The night of the performance my mom and dad were very proud when they saw me come on stage as a pig. We wore gray sweat suits smeared with brown paint to truly enhance the effect. Also we wore little snouts on our noses, and I remember disliking the hot plastic being on my face all night.

    As the show began and the lights went down as a first grader with no inhibitions I was not the least bit nervous. Every child with a speaking line would step up to the microphone and say their line with the largest amount of expression that is possible for a first grader. The whole point of the musical was that the farm animals were attempting to cheer up a very sad cow. And so as I came to the microphone I said, “And the way you chew your cud… well you do have beautiful eyes.” I had to have a dramatic pause following the first half of the sentence and I remember asking my parents over a hundred times if they thought I had forgotten my line, and they would respond that yes they did because I was such a great actress.

    It was not until I was in probably third grade that I learned the meaning of “cud” and that is when I truly grasped the concept of the line. Though it was just one line it meant everything to me and I will never forget that. I truly felt like a talented actress who had fooled the audience and I felt as though I was the “show stopper.”

    Looking back on that experience I realize that every child stole the show in the eyes of their loved ones and that many children probably have the same memory staring themselves.

  6. There are going to be great memories throughout my life that i will carry forever. But one that i can tel in great detail from when i was little was getting my first pet.

    It was Christmas Day and i was 7 years old and all my life, since i could remember, i wanted a horse. Now i didnt know what i would do with it, where it would stay, or how i would feed it but i did know if i ever got anything else in the world my number one wish was to have a horse. So it was early like 7 o’clock and i ran downstairs so excited to open presents. When i got downstairs i ran and gave my mom a hug and ran to the back door to see if there was a horse standing in my backyard, but there wasn’t. It was just cold with a playground and a pool.

    I didn’t say anything just turned around and smiled. But all of a sudden a little baby black kitten runs to my feet and starts clawing at me. I bent down and said “Mom what is this?” She said “A horse is to much right now but i am sure this little guy will keep you happy.”

    It was the best Christmas, i loved my kitten. I ended up naming it Blacky, very original i know. From then no out every picture moment i had i tried to make Blacky part of it. I loved that cat so much and i wish i still had her. She was my best friend when i was little and it was such an amazing day i was able to remember every detail of the incredible moment.

    Just for kicks when i was writing this story i thought of Mrs. Bonner the whole time and wonder when she got her first cat?!!

  7. One of the first things I can remember is when we moved out of our old apartment when I was just about two.

    On the night before we were going to move, a tornado was forming near to where our apartment was. I was completely freaked out, because even when I was that young, I could tell if people were concerned, and I just saw my mom and dad look freaked out.

    I think this was the first time I felt fear. Tings got so bad that we had to go to the hallway. Eventually, the storm passed, but I think that this memory has caused me to freak out when they mention a tornado on the news.

  8. This is neither a recollection of a time when I was the center of attention nor was I a hero. However, in my eleven-year-old mind, I thought I performed a heroic deed.

    It was a Sunday afternoon, and I wanted to wash the car. My mom pulled her vehicle out of the garage and parked in on our inclined driveway. We were going to was the car.

    I was assigned to wash the windows and chrome of the car. All was going well until my mother got onto the step stool to reach the top of the SUV. She was washing the roof of the car. The basic equilibrium principle of physics suddenly came into play. The step stool on the inclined surface fell. I didn’t see what happened, for I was on the other side of the car, but I did hear my mom grumble in pain.

    My mom, tried to quickly get herself up from the graveled concrete. As she struggled to stand up, I hurried to help her. When my mother stopped yelling at the step stool, she decided that it really wasn’t that important to clean the top of the SUV.

    The gaping slit on my mother’s elbow worried me. She was ready to apply a band-aid to her elbow and get back to business. After much convincing her, she drove, one-armed, to the urgent care center.

    Before the doctor would sew up her laceration, he wanted to make sure her elbow wasn’t fractured. The technician came to take my mother to the X-ray room. The technician dismissively told me that I needed to stay and wait outside. I refused. I wasn’t going to leave my mother. I just knew she needed me. Clearly annoyed, the technician shrugged her shoulders and I proceeded to follow her and my mother into the room.

    In retrospect, my mother would have been just fine without me. I could have waited outside of the room for my mother to return. The X-ray would have revealed the fracture with or without me. My “heroism” was really just an act of caring—not the slaying of monsters, nor risking my life in order to save another’s.

  9. I can actually have quite a few memories and most of my prideful memories that I can remember were when I was in 5/6th grade. I am not sure if you would accept those as childhood memories so I will go with one when I was about 5. I noticed that I seam to have to have happier memories when I was in 5/6th grade then I do when I was younger. I felt confused in my younger years because I was ignorant of what was going on and end up doing foolish things but that is what makes it funny when you look back at it. I still had plenty of good times in my childhood but the ones I had when I was about 3-7, the memories sort of mix together and I cannot remember them too clearly.

    I took ballet lessons when I was little and when I was about five, we were rehearsing for another performance. One day, on the last day of rehearsing before we had to perform, one of my classmates did not cooperate and stayed sitting down on the floor (our performance started of with us on the floor). I remember my teacher asking her what was wrong and was eventually excused. I did not see her crying or hear what she said so I did not think she was hurt or anything so I was curious of what will happen if I did that. It was not that I did not want to do ballet, I was just simply curious of what will happen. After all kids copy others although it seams to be usually the adults. Well, I ended up thinking of that while we were rehearsing for the last time for that day and so the next time we were going to rehearse . . . well, we were not going to rehearse anymore. The next time we were going to do that routine was when we were going to perform on stage. At the time, though I did not know that.

    So, as you can guess, at the time of the performance, I refused to get up from the ground and start performing with the others. Stage fright did not have anything to do with it. From what I can remember, I hardly notice the other people. Well, after the performance was over, I got in big trouble and my mom was furious with me. Of course I did not know exactly what was going and did not know how much money my mom had to pay for me to take the classes.

  10. My earliest memory of something I clearly remember would have to be when i was 5 or 6 years old.

    My dad had just gotten a tricycle from the store for my birthday. When i rode it I felt like a “hero.” I rode it the rest of the day. At the end my parents were almost begging me to get off that thing. They threatened to take it away so i had to get off after that.

  11. I was in fourth grade and I was at my best friend Bailey’s house.

    We were having so much fun making cookies and hot chocolate. When we were finished we sat down to her kitchen table and enjoyed our treats. Bailey had a dog named Paige who was so cute and everyone enjoyed her company. As we were drinking our hot chocolate I leaned over to look at Paige and suddenly I fell out of my chair onto her. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor in a tremendous amout of pain, bleeding all over. Since Paige was an older dog I guess I scared her and her first reaction was to attack me. She had bitten me all over my face and came an inch away from scratching my left eye. Bailey’s mom checked me out and thought it was only some minor scratches, so she put some neosporin and bandaids on me and told me I was good to enjoy the rest of the night. The next morning when she dropped me at my house, my mom saw me and freaked out. She was not only shocked by all my scars but how swollen my left side of my face was. She then rushed me to the hospital were they told me if I had waited another day they would of had to do surgery to drain all the “puss” (I know thats very gross to say, sorry) out of my face. Luckily, since we came just in time they gave me a shot and a medication (I had to stay on for about two weeks) and told me I was good to go. I will probably never forget that story, but im just glad it didnt affect me and Bailey’s friendship.

  12. The most clear memory in my life is a memory of when I was three or four.

    I have memories of before that of an apartment, three girls, a dog, and the joys of messing up laundry. But these are memories supported by, and perhaps reconstructed and fabricated from photos I have seen.

    My most clear memory is not remembered by anyone but myself, not by photographs or otherwise. My family was moving from L.A. to Texas. My father had already packed up our car with our belongings and set off through Arizona and New Mexico. My mother and I were set to fly to our new home, in the morning we would arrive in a new land. It was a night time flight, the journey that would take me from the place of my birth to the place where I would grow up.

    I have no memory of the airport, walking, waiting, or boarding, but the plane is right in front of my eyes as I look back, a giant, a 747, silver with a red and a blue stripe, silhouetted against the darkness. Boarding and most of the flight are blank in my mind. I was sitting in my seat, a hugh seat, patterned with seemingly random colors on blue fabric, illuminated by an orangish reading light overhead. The night sk y outside my window was pitch black, dotted with hundreds of stars.

    A stewardess pushing her silver metal beverage cart walked up next to where I sat next to my mother. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked my mother. My mother had ice water, dispensed into a little, uniquely shaped plastic cup. She then asked what I would like to drink. “I’ll have orange juice with ice,” I declared. The waitress, slightely suprised by the drink order from a toddler, smiled and poured my orange juice into a little plastic cup with three ice cubes.

    The last thing I remember is sipping my juice feeling very proud of myself. I do not know why I remember this event with such crystal clarity, it is more vivid than the events of last night. I don’t know why this memory is so clear when entire years of my life fade to blurs. Perhaps in a lifetime full of regrets it stands out as the first time I did something I could be proud of. Perhaps I remember it simply as part of the first turning point in my life, a memorable footnote of a great change. I have often wondered over the years when this insignificant memory will fade, bluring and finally disappearing, but I have realized it will stay with me for the foreseeable future, and I should take from it what I can.

  13. I am in no way a hero in this story – but I certainly did get lots of attention.

    I think I was four or five at the time.

    Around this time period, instead of liking dolls and barbies, I had an obsession with dinosaurs, rocks, and collecting strange things. We still hadn’t moved out of our apartment yet, and I believe this was in Virginia. Anyway, that day I had decided I was going to collect the strings/straps you find on those paper gift bags (don’t ask – I was a strange child). To this day, I still don’t know what my mom was thinking at the time, letting a four year old cut her own strings. I was holding a gift bag with surprisingly thick strings and proceeded to cut it.

    Unfortunately, my finger had been right behind the string and inbetween the blade… it didn’t hurt until I actually saw it. I then began to scream and yell and cry, because it started hurting and stinging really bad. I remember the blood was dripping from my finger like crazy and getting all over my clothes. My dad was a doctor (and also at work), so he was the first person my mom called for help. Well, attempted to call, I should say.

    I was crying so loudly that she dialed the wrong number around three times… maybe four. Eventually she got the number right, and I was then rushed into a minor emergency room and given seven stitches. It was a really deep cut. I think I remember the doctor saying it was almost to the bone.

    I got a lot of attention that day: all the nurses were gathering around me and complimenting my bravery, and best of all, my mom gave me candy that night after dinner!

  14. It was a bright sunny day, and I just came home from kindergarten.

    Our house has two stories, and upstairs, there is sort of a ‘half-wall’ that acts as a barrier from falling all the way downstairs, but is still low enough for someone to be able to see the living room floor downstairs. My parents have told me over and over never to climb the wall. But of course, that just multiplied my curiosity and want even more, and being one who liked to climb a lot didn’t help either.

    Anyways, on that fateful day, I decided to climb the wall. I have already done it several times before, but all I would do was just lie on top of it and then climb back down.

    This time, as I reached the top and lay there, I wondered, ‘what would happen if I pushed myself over the side?’ (Stupid, I know). I thought I could pull myself up, so I did it. I swung over and hung there, fifteen feet up from the abyss below. A few seconds later, I decided that I had enough, and wanted to pull myself up. I couldn’t. I began to panic, and called for my mother.

    I don’t know why, but all that was in my mind was not to make her mad, so I called softly. She didn’t know that I was in danger, until the second time a called, when she sensed fear and panic in my voice. My mother ran for the stairs, but when she was about to go up, she saw me hanging there, struggling to stay alive. She then started to run to my position, wanting to catch me when I fell. It was too late. By now, my hands were too sweaty to hold on anymore. A moment later, I started my journey down.

    I landed on a square, wooden table with my left foot, lost my balance, and toppled over. I fell, back first, onto the floor (fortunately carpet). The force of the fall knocked the wind out of me, and I struggled to breathe. By then my mother was there, who picked me up and sat on the nearest couch, trying to make me breathe again. I was suffocating, trying my best breathe, but for some reason, by throat wouldn’t allow any air in. Finally, right before the point of blackout, I forced precious air into my lungs. I’m alive!

    After that, my mom immediately took me to the emergency room, where the doctors there checked and x-rayed my whole body. After all the tests and examinations, they told my mother the news. Good or bad?

    Well, as it turned out, I had no broken bones scratches, nor bruises that they could find. I was as fit as any five-year-old, and so they let me go. Of course, I was smiling for the whole day, feeling like the big hero who couldn’t be hurt or inflicted damage upon. My curiosity was also fulfilled. And that night, we found out that the doctor’s report was wrong. There was a bruise. It was on the sole of my left foot, the foot that saved my life.

  15. The incident I remember clearly as having done something “heroic” was happened when I was seven years old.

    I attended a Karate school since I was five years old. This school emphasized sparring each day. There was, as there always is, a tough guy that terrorized other kids in class. He must have been about eight years old. He was slightly taller than other kids, but he was fast and he hit and kicked hard. Many kids left the mat crying after sparring with him. I was younger, so I was not often pared up to fight him. But I was secretly afraid of him all the while.

    On my brown belt test day, I was hoping that I did not have to fight him. After I completed my kata forms (think dance moves but with punches and kicks), I stood on the mat waiting for my opponents. The instructor announced that I could choose my opponent. Without thinking, I blurted out the tough guy’s name. I just felt that I had to do this for myself.

    I don’t remember all that went on in the fight, but I did draw blood from him, which I never did before. I remember telling myself not to cry. At the end of the day, I won a trophy for “Best Belt Test.” But most importantly, the tough guy stopped kicking and hitting people so hard in class. I stayed with the school three more years after that, but some of the lessons I learned there stayed with me forever.

  16. When I was about nine years old, I remember the day when my little brother, little sister, and I were sitting at the top of the stairs watching slinkies roll down.

    It was my sister’s turn to try her slinky, and I knew she would not be able to make her slinky go further then mine, simply because mine was just so awesome . Anyway my sister knew that hers would not go further because her slinky was smaller…so she decided to use something bigger then my slinky: my brother. So she said, “Hey sissy watch this!”

    When she said that, I saw her get directly behind my brother who was looking for his slinky. She shoved him down the stairs, laughing and thankfully I was in the middle of the stairs to catch him! I was like a nine year old cat woman, or so I thought. I still don’t ever let him forget the day I saved him from cracking his skull on the wood floor!

  17. This happened a long time ago when I was three or four.

    I went to this gathering with my dad. There were alot of kids my age and I went off to play with them. As I was playing this one kid was making fun of me. I saw red and I nailed that kid as hard as I could and I hit him in the stomach. He cried and told someone. Some how my dad caught wind of this and I got in deep trouble. I told my dad that he punched me first, but that didn’t work out as well as I thought it did. After that I never had that many occasions where I hit people.

  18. When I was probably around 7 or 8ish, my mom went to the Q which is now 24 hour fitness but Iwould go to the little kids place while she worked out.

    And everytime I went there I would find some of my friends and play with them and run around frantically. All I remember now is playing chase or like somebody was the bad guy and we had to get them. (Most of the time it was a little boy since they had cooties *wink*) So we would all chase him and I remember being the leader of the bunch and always saying “Get him!” “Go!”. They would all run out in front of me and I would follow.

    It made me feel like I had so much power! Every kid wants to feel like that, at that age.

  19. My humble story:

    Once upon a time, there was a beautiful child. This child was good and kind to all those around her. She attended pre-school with other children, where she played, and learned, and laughed. All the teachers and other students loved this child very much.

    One day, after lunch, one of the other students was preparing to sit down in her seat. But this chair was not where it was supposed to be, and the child fell cruelly on her buttocks. All the other children of the class laughed at the poor child’s misfortune- but not the beautiful, kind child. She took pity on the wronged girl, and instead of laughing, she assisted the fallen girl from the floor.

    The girl did this deed not for the glory, or the recognition, or even the gold star on her paper; no, the wonderful child did it because it was right.

  20. The memory I remember being the center of was on Mother’s Day when I was around six years old.

    My brother was about seventeen years old and his friends, my brother, and I were all outside playing Home Run Derby. Instead of me playing though, I was spectating as usual and eating a package of crackers. Since we did not have actual bases, we had trees as the bases and a small goal as home plate, where I would stand to be safe and watch all at the same time. I had seen a grasshopper that I had wanted to catch so I ran out to get it and my brother’s friend, Sammy, accidentally hit me with the bat in my chin with his swing. After this moment it was very chaotic.

    My brother had panicked and went inside to tell my parents.

    At this point I remember being very dizzy and was unsure what had happened. My mother came outside and I was bleeding from my nose badly because I had fell after I had been hit and my face hit the ground. My parents had to take me to the hospital where I was then taken to the Emergency Room and taken care of. My parents told me after that, that I had fallen unconcious for a while and taken care of.

    The most ironic part of the story that I remember was the fact that I was laughing in the car as I was bleeding which suprised me because I could not remember that part.

  21. In this story, I really was not the hero, but felt I was one at the time.

    When I was around three or four, I went to a petting-zoo themed birthday party.

    At the party, they had goats, sheep, etc. I was with my babysitter and was waiting to get on one of the miniature horses, which did not look so miniature at the time. While while I began to play with one of the horse’s tail. The horse, surprisingly, did not like this and kicked me in the stomach.

    Due to my tiny size, the breath was completely knocked out of me and the ambulance, probably unnecessarily, was called. The host family frantically called my mother and insisted she rush over, not telling her exactly what had happened. When my mother asked me what happened, I explained to her that it was all a misunderstanding. I told her that although the horse had kicked me, he came and apologized to me afterwards (My heroic deed).

    I don’t really remember if I actually thought the horse had apologized or if I had said this to save the horse from punishment. Most likely, it was the first, but I like to think a combination of the two.

  22. I was in early preschool, and all the kids were playing outside.

    I was playing with the boys, and back then all little boys thought that girls were smelly. So, naturally, I was made the Skunkie and the game was for all of them to chase me. I was faster then them and none of them could catch me, and I really felt like a hero, but then they cornered me and poked at me and made fun of me for being smelly, and I started crying.

    Stupid boys. Oh well, I was still the hero. Or heroine, I should say.

  23. One of my best ‘hero’ memories as a child occured in first grade.

    I had gone to preschool here but everything was changing. It was my first day of first grade at Redeemer Montosori School. The school was not that big, but of corse I was scared to death (I suppose some things never change). I, hyperventilating even as a child, walked into my first grade classroom. To my surprise There was a bunny cage in the middle of the room. I LOVED bunnies. I had one as my own pet at home so I was estatic Hoppity could have a friend.

    Just then my happy moment seeing Presley (a clever knock off of parsely which is what bunnies eat) was thwarted. My arch enemy Shiloh was in my class. He was the definition of evil. He used to pull my hair, and call me all sorts of names in preschool. And I was lucky enough to have him in my class, yipee. I decided to just ignore him as we circled up on the magic carpet (a round carpet we all had to sit on when the teachers were talking to us). Our teacher Ms. Kelley told us Presley was her bunny that she brings to school everyday and that he was our class pet/mascot. I could see the look on Shiloh’s face from accross the circle. I was scared for Presely.

    Later, during lunch time(or was it snack time? I dont remember), we were all sitting on the magic carpet eating our lunch. Ms. Kelley stepped out of the room for whatever reason teachers do (probably to make fun of the weird kids) and we were left alone. Shiloh got up and I could smell trouble in the air. “Watch this guys” Shiloh said lauphing. He opened the bunny cage and took out Presely. Presely, not wanting any part of this, wiggled out of Shiloh’s hands and hopped furiously away. Shiloh was mortified.

    “Were going to be in soo much trouble!” A little girl shouted. The room was in a flurry, realizing how mad Ms. Kelley would be if she walked in and her precious Presely was gone. Ms. Kelley was a scary lady. Just then Presely did a mad dash through the circle and we all scrambled up to try to catch him.Presely had hidden himself behind a book case from all of us crazy kids. There was no way we could reach him, the bookcase was heavy and none of us could fit back there. We were sunk.

    I remembered when I was in a similar situation with Hoppity. She had weaseled herself behind our computer desk, chewing all the wires. I was the one who got her out. I just then knew what I had to do.

    “Does anyone have an apple?” I asked.

    Kids looked at me questionaly, and I was mortified. Suddenly someone held out half an apple to me. I held out the apple for Presely who was slowly lured out. I picked him up and rushed him to his cage right before Ms. Kelley walked back in. A sigh of relief blew over the magic carpet and that recess, I made more friends than I ever had ever imagined. Good triumphed again, and no one would talk to Shiloh.

  24. Student #22 (w/ another memory)

    No no, wait! I have a better one than Skunkie!

    I was playing in the pool with a little girl who lived down the street. I was probably five, and she was a year younger.

    My mom and her mom sat on chairs talking. Niether of me nor Rachel could swim, so we stuck to the first three steps. NOBODY could make it to the fourth step. That just wasn’t allowed. But Rachel thought she could. She stepped down, and her head went under. “Mommy!” I shouted. “She’s not supposed to be doin’ that!”

    That was all it took. Their heads snapped around, and Rachel’s mother leaped into the pool, clothes and sunglasses and everything. I don’t know if Rachel would still be alive today if it wasn’t for me and my little tattle-tale self.

    I’d saved the day, I was the heroine, I was awesome…but, due to my own mother’s anxiety, all I got was several days of not being allowed to play in the pool anymore.

  25. A childhood memory I will never forget is my 12th birthday. Early, I know I have a rather extensive memory.

    But back to the story, it started out as any other day: wake up, daily routine, eat breakfast, get dressed get my lunch and go to school. But that’s not the way it ended, not normal at all.

    Later that day at 3:20 p.m. my mother picked me up from school and we went to the spa and out to eat. I remember taking so many detours to get home and I remember that it seemed like she was stalling for some reason. She had gotten like 7 calls from my dad and sister each. I was wondering what in the world is going on. So we made another stop, this time we were in a whole different city and I was pretty much convinced that something bad had happened, i.e.” Our house had burned down”, “someone was murdered or something”. But she reassured that we were on our way home.

    I remember going to sleep and waking up and we were on the road to our house… FINALLY!!! The feeling that I felt can not even be described. It was a mixture of feelings, still anticipating what was to come and being excited.

    I walked into my house and every thing looked the same. I have to admit at this time I was kind of disappointed. So I went upstairs and I noticed the light to my room was on and I heard voices saying “shhh!” So as I walk in I see a COMPLETELY different room than I had left it. New everything! It was definitely a kids dream. Not to mention all of my friends were thee with gifts galore. It was truly a birthday to remember.

  26. I remember when I was 7-8 ish.

    I was pushing my little sister on a swing in our backyard. Now, our backyard had tons of pine trees (about 40-50 altogether on our property) and the backyard was basically rocks and pine needles (and some dog poop). So, naturally, when you fall on ground like that, it’s going to hurt. My little sister was 2 or 3. I was pushing her on the swing, when suddenly she took her hands off (to this day, she doesn’t know why) and promptly fell off the swing.

    She instantly began screaming her head off.

    I was frozen for a moment, wondering what I should do. Then my older sister came outside and yelled, ‘WHAT HAPPENED???’ Well, needless to say that shocked me out of my daydream-like state. I ran inside, got my mom, and we took my little sister to the hospital.

    It turned out that she had fractured her wrist.

    Yes, I wasn’t exactly a hero, but I did help my sister get the care she needed as quickly as possible (well, almost).

  27. When I was like 3, I would go outside and paint with my grandma, I called her MiMi.

    Well one day she got up to go get some more paint from the house and left me outside alone. As I was finger painting, I saw a small puppy go by. I went over to it and started to play with it. I asked my MiMi if I could keep it, and she said no. But, I wouldn’t leave a puppy outside by itself, so I sneaked it to the backyard. From there I went to the backdoor and into the house to my room. Once I got the puppy in my room, I gave it some water and food.

    Well it was time for me to go to bed, and right after I got into my bed, the puppy started to whimper from its bed I made from a blanket. I had also put it in my closet so no one could see it. But, what I didn’t know was that my MiMi had like supersonic hearing or something. Because, she ran in my room and asked what the puppy was doing in my closet. So I started to cry, because I thought that I was going to get a spanking.

    But, instead she let me keep the puppy if I promised to take care of it. So of course I said that I would, and of course I didn’t. So I made my dad take care of it and I still got to keep the puppy. I also kept it from starving so I felt pretty good.

  28. Well, I was probably 4 or 5 when this happened.

    I was in dance classes; tap, jazz, and ballet. I was in a class that was about a year younger than me, so I was positive that I was smarter and wiser than them. (wink.) We were really good and we won a lot of first place trophies and awards.

    In one performance we were little bumble bees. (cute. I know. But those costumes with yellow and black sequins and those adorable little antennas were so itchy and uncomfortable. The price we have to pay to be on stage. Woe is me!)

    So we were on stage dancing and stuff, when all of a sudden, my clip on yellow earrings popped off and fell on the floor. I, like a natural, kept on dancing. But my friend, Madeline, did not. She stops immediately walks a few steps in front of her, bends down, and picks up my earring. I kept on telling her to get up! Get up! NO! But there she was, ruining my show, and my chance of being accepted in the world as a dancer. But, I kept my cool. And smiled that cheesy dance smile.

    I felt so good about myself because I knew everyone in the audience was watching how professional I was by not worrying about anything except for dancing. You do not know how joyful my heart was to be the heroine and know that I saved the day. (But what’s ironic is that [student named removed] probably felt the exact same way that I did because she saved the show. ha.)

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