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The Mugging

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One of my worst memories is one that many children go through. My account dates back to the year 1998. This particular memory is an experience I want to forget. But its hard forget such a terrifying experience because of the traumatic affect it has on a child. My ordeal starts in Birmingham. It was a cold, bitter evening in Birmingham. The air was thick and as cool as ice. As I took a breath, It felt as if my lungs were frozen. My cricket club had finished later than I had expected and it was beginning to get dark, 'great' I thought. Usually I would be sitting with my family watching the Simpson's. But today was going to be different. As I walked on through the quiet, icy streets I looked up at the sky. It was a spectacular purple haze. I admired the beautiful array of colours which isn't normally seen in parts of Birmingham. ...read more.


I was defenceless. The gap between us seemed to close by a mile everytime I took a step. I knew I had to do something. I couldn't make up my mind what to do. My head was spinning like a spinning wheel. I walked towards them, closer and closer. My heartbeat could be heard a mile away. Suddenly they came within one metre of me. The moment of truth was near. Within and instant, I quickly hopped onto the road and skipped around them. I waited and walked on. They didn't say anything. " Phew ", I said to myself, with relief. I now felt calm. My palms were dry and my heart rate was back to normal. I coolly strutted away. But then suddenly I heard a deep voice. " Oy, you. Come over 'ere ", mumbled one of the maniacs. I didn't say anything, my brain just told me to walk. ...read more.


My hands had scraped along the gritty concrete. The skin had been peeled of my palms and the blood started to treacle out. One of the gang members grabbed me from my jacket and lifted me up, with ease. He tightly held me towards up against the coarse, brick wall. His cold-blooded hand wrapped around my neck like a snake. I couldn't move, I had no energy left. I felt like a ragdoll on a few strings. " Gimme your stuff punk ", he said in a menacing voice. I didn't reply, my mouth couldn't move. He waited for a replay; his eyes went red with anger with my stubbornness. Suddenly he lost his patience and forcefully rummaged through my jacket, taking anything he could. He let go of my neck, I flopped to the ground. " Come on, let's go ", one of the muggers shouted. They ran into the horizon, escaping with a few worthless pence. I was left there, helpless. I tried to get up, but all was spinning. I lay there on the street, there was nothing I could do. HASHPAL SIHRE 1007 ...read more.

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