The next day, it was a fresh new month, November the 1st, 1955, and it was hailing. But it got a lot worse. That day was officially when my life started to roll downhill. I woke up, feeling like an important 4 year old. It eventually stopped hailing but it kept on raining.

So I put on my oversized raincoat and my gumboots and set off outside. Life was nice. I jumped in puddles when suddenly WHOOSH! Something tiny, black and gold glided across my cheek.

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“Oh,” I whimpered, mending my scrape with my chubby hand. Then, abruptly without a warning, another one flew past me just missing my leg just by a centimetre.

“Waa!” I cried with my stubby legs trying to run away. But before I could even move, an ammunition of bullets scraped me, barely missing a millimetre. A cloud of dust arise chocking me

“EEEEEEEEEEEK MAMA!” I managed to screech out and ran for my life.