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Creative Writing = Autobigraphy

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Autobiography Ever since I had been born, I had loved the outdoors. We moved house to a place with a huge back garden. In the summer, I used to climb the trees and have pretend picnics as far away from the house as possible. In the winter, I used to make snow men and snow houses. I couldn't be outside more. When I started primary school, the first club I joined was gymnastics. I enjoyed it so much so when it came to my sixth birthday party; my parents knew exactly what to get me. I had been hinting for months, I knew exactly what I wanted, a climbing frame. My best friend Laura had got one for Christmas, and to me, it seemed like the greatest thing in the world. We used to spend hours playing all sorts of games, castles, explorers, houses, everything. I couldn't wait for one of my own. Anyway, I had woken up at what seemed like a completely reasonable birthday time, half past 5. Unable to stay in bed any longer, I ran into my parents' room screaming and shouting. However, they didn't seem as pleased to see me as I had hoped. All the commotion had woken my four year old brother up and he seemed extremely happy. Even though he wasn't sure what was going on, the noise was good, so something fun must have been happening. ...read more.


Of course, he was going to let go. It was inevitable. Okay, imagine a rocket. Plummeting down to the ground the wrong way. That sort of resembles me. Legs pointing to the air, my arms to the ground. Screaming my head off at my brother for ruining my game. I might have thought twice if I knew I was about to break my arm. The inventor of slides, teamed up with safety officials. A lethal combination. Most parents will probably thank them for the countless safety measures and precautions on slides. However, my parents don't. You know the silly safety bars that are set under slides to support them and keep them standing up. Well for my slide, the safety must have been removed and left nothing but big metal poles, because if it weren't for them, my arm would have been fine. As I slid, very quickly, as the slide was new and very slippy; I put my arm down one of the sides to stop myself falling when I got to the bottom. One of the bars, however, got in my way. Unfortunately, I kept going, but my arm didn't. The safety bars on slide must be built to withstand anything, let alone falling six year olds. It snapped ... my arm, not the safety bar. ...read more.


The room was really dark and filled with big mechanical machines. I was sure that the machines Were evil robots that were going to kill me. I almost had a heart attack when a huge metal arm came towards me. The man on the other side of the room told me to keep very still. There was a lot of flashing light and I was finally allowed to go back outside. Afterwards, we waited for a long time for a nurse to come and put my pot on. It felt like they were cementing my arm together. All I could think about was "how were they going to get it off?!" My pot was white and I had a big sling because the plaster was a bit heavy for a little six year old. When we left the hospital, I was very proud of my new and reformed arm. I was showing off to Laura how heavy my arm was and I quite liked swinging it around in the car. Laura's dad dropped us off at Tescos car park where my mum was just finishing work. I couldn't wait to see what she was going to say to my pot. When she came to the car, I waved my arm around with a massive grin on my face. I was still very impressed with it. My mum on the other hand, wasn't. The first thing she said to me was "What have you done?!" I replied simply "Ask Tom!" ...read more.

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