Using Poetic Language

Injuring my ankle for the first time was a painful, unpleasant and unforgettable moment in my life. The scorching sun shone down unforgivingly, adding to the unbearable Kentucky summer heat. It was the final day of my older brother’s baseball tournament. As the closing ceremony was starting, anxious and excited people flooded towards the fields. I immediately deemed the long gravel stairs, overcrowded with pushy people rushing down them, as unsafe and risky. The deserted lush, green, grassy hill beside me was calling my name.

My feet only left two footprints in the green grass before everything went horribly wrong. A searing pain tore through my ankle as I fell to the ground, tears streaming down my face like a waterfall. A strong stranger lifted me with ease and gently placed me in the shade, saving me from the harsh sun. My mother hastily went to search for a medic, leaving my shocked sister and my friend to calm me.

My dreadful mistake was believing that things couldn’t possibly get worse. Splat! A cold, wet, sticky, gooey blue substance splashes over me, distracting me from my throbbing ankle for a mere moment. Filled with guilt, my friend apologized a million times for spilling her frozen slushie on me.

My somewhat panicked mom soon returned with a calm medic. Freezing cold ice numbed my pain and for a while the pain was bearable. I felt extremely childish for crying in public. The kind medic gently placed me in the passenger seat of his vehicle, driving me to the fields so I could be with my family and watch my brother. My family met me down by the small, shady picnic area. A hard, uncomfortable, brown picnic table is where I sat with my leg up high, hidden by bags of rapidly melting ice.

My sister and friend desperately tried to keep my mind off of the pain. They were successful while the ice soothed the throbbing ache in my ankle. Unfortunately, the relief that the ice brought didn’t last forever with the sweltering heat. The insufferable pain soon returned and it was too much for me to handle. Waves of self-pity washed over me as the day dragged on. The day ended with our long car ride back home to New York.