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I walked up to a path and although it was in broad daylight I was scared! Perhaps it was because it reminded me of the allies where the school bullies. Just the memory of it made me weep in despair. However I choose to walk upon that path, as there was no other route to Mullion Cove. Thankfully I found an escape quickly. I saw a hole in a hedge. A small glimmer of hope. Even though it was just 7cm wide I took it.
Once through the hedge my clothes had been ripped but that was the least of my troubles, as I had to run with great speed immediately to retain my tarnished life. For the farmer who owned the property had mistaken me for a fox attempting to kill his chickens and was shooting at me with his double-barrelled sawn off shotgun. Yet even after I had escaped from the guns range I had no chance to recapture my breath for he, the farmer, had set his terrifying dogs upon me. The mysterious breed known only as two-week-old Yorkshire terriers. They soon caught up with me and wrapped their boneless gums around my bare spine leaving me writhing in pain. Yet I managed to stifle up enough strength to scramble to my feet and flee from these satanic dogs. Soon I had reached the field boundary and I decided to jump it and therefore ignoring the sign displaying DANGER in large red letters.
Now that was a mistake! I rolled down the steep valley slope with only the sound of my cracking bones to comfort me. One broken arm and a fractured leg later I stood up and slowly made my way up the opposite side of the valley. Around 17 days later I raised my arms in triumph. I had triumphed the 7-foot high valley slope! However yet another calamity awaited me I immediately stumbled forwards and, just my luck, fell vertically 3,000 meters down a cliff face. I was soon laying on the floor slightly dazed by the events of the day, yet still trying to count my blessings. At that very moment though I heard the ‘baah’ of a sheep. It was a comforting sound. Alas it was not my Romeo Ronald but a herd of ill-tempered-mutated sheep that decided to trample upon my bear backed torso of pain suffering and humiliation.
Three cracked ribs 16 slipped disks and a snapped humorous later I stood up determined to reach my destination of Mullion Cove. But a small child of a sheep had stood in my path. Unnoticed by me I tripped over it and fell to my doom at the bottom of Davie Jones' locker. I would now never reach my destination of Mullion Cove for one week later I drowned in my own urine.
Once through the hedge my clothes had been ripped but that was the least of my troubles, as I had to run with great speed immediately to retain my tarnished life. For the farmer who owned the property had mistaken me for a fox attempting to kill his chickens and was shooting at me with his double-barrelled sawn off shotgun. Yet even after I had escaped from the guns range I had no chance to recapture my breath for he, the farmer, had set his terrifying dogs upon me. The mysterious breed known only as two-week-old Yorkshire terriers. They soon caught up with me and wrapped their boneless gums around my bare spine leaving me writhing in pain. Yet I managed to stifle up enough strength to scramble to my feet and flee from these satanic dogs. Soon I had reached the field boundary and I decided to jump it and therefore ignoring the sign displaying DANGER in large red letters.
Now that was a mistake! I rolled down the steep valley slope with only the sound of my cracking bones to comfort me. One broken arm and a fractured leg later I stood up and slowly made my way up the opposite side of the valley. Around 17 days later I raised my arms in triumph. I had triumphed the 7-foot high valley slope! However yet another calamity awaited me I immediately stumbled forwards and, just my luck, fell vertically 3,000 meters down a cliff face. I was soon laying on the floor slightly dazed by the events of the day, yet still trying to count my blessings. At that very moment though I heard the ‘baah’ of a sheep. It was a comforting sound. Alas it was not my Romeo Ronald but a herd of ill-tempered-mutated sheep that decided to trample upon my bear backed torso of pain suffering and humiliation.
Three cracked ribs 16 slipped disks and a snapped humorous later I stood up determined to reach my destination of Mullion Cove. But a small child of a sheep had stood in my path. Unnoticed by me I tripped over it and fell to my doom at the bottom of Davie Jones' locker. I would now never reach my destination of Mullion Cove for one week later I drowned in my own urine.
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I walked up to a path and although it was in broad daylight I was scared! Perhaps it was because it reminded me of the allies where the school bullies. Just the memory of it made me weep in despair. However I choose to walk upon that path, as there was no other route to Mullion Cove. Thankfully I found an escape quickly. I saw a hole in a hedge. A small glimmer of hope. Even though it was just 7cm wide I took it.
Once through the hedge my clothes had been ripped but that was the least of my troubles, as I had to run with great speed immediately to retain my tarnished life. For the farmer who owned the property had mistaken me for a fox attempting to kill his chickens and was shooting at me with his double-barrelled sawn off shotgun. Yet even after I had escaped from the guns range I had no chance to recapture my breath for he, the farmer, had set his terrifying dogs upon me. The mysterious breed known only as two-week-old Yorkshire terriers. They soon caught up with me and wrapped their boneless gums around my bare spine leaving me writhing in pain. Yet I managed to stifle up enough strength to scramble to my feet and flee from these satanic dogs. Soon I had reached the field boundary and I decided to jump it and therefore ignoring the sign displaying DANGER in large red letters.
Now that was a mistake! I rolled down the steep valley slope with only the sound of my cracking bones to comfort me. One broken arm and a fractured leg later I stood up and slowly made my way up the opposite side of the valley. Around 17 days later I raised my arms in triumph. I had triumphed the 7-foot high valley slope! However yet another calamity awaited me I immediately stumbled forwards and, just my luck, fell vertically 3,000 meters down a cliff face. I was soon laying on the floor slightly dazed by the events of the day, yet still trying to count my blessings. At that very moment though I heard the ‘baah’ of a sheep. It was a comforting sound. Alas it was not my Romeo Ronald but a herd of ill-tempered-mutated sheep that decided to trample upon my bear backed torso of pain suffering and humiliation.
Three cracked ribs 16 slipped disks and a snapped humorous later I stood up determined to reach my destination of Mullion Cove. But a small child of a sheep had stood in my path. Unnoticed by me I tripped over it and fell to my doom at the bottom of Davie Jones' locker. I would now never reach my destination of Mullion Cove for one week later I drowned in my own urine.
Once through the hedge my clothes had been ripped but that was the least of my troubles, as I had to run with great speed immediately to retain my tarnished life. For the farmer who owned the property had mistaken me for a fox attempting to kill his chickens and was shooting at me with his double-barrelled sawn off shotgun. Yet even after I had escaped from the guns range I had no chance to recapture my breath for he, the farmer, had set his terrifying dogs upon me. The mysterious breed known only as two-week-old Yorkshire terriers. They soon caught up with me and wrapped their boneless gums around my bare spine leaving me writhing in pain. Yet I managed to stifle up enough strength to scramble to my feet and flee from these satanic dogs. Soon I had reached the field boundary and I decided to jump it and therefore ignoring the sign displaying DANGER in large red letters.
Now that was a mistake! I rolled down the steep valley slope with only the sound of my cracking bones to comfort me. One broken arm and a fractured leg later I stood up and slowly made my way up the opposite side of the valley. Around 17 days later I raised my arms in triumph. I had triumphed the 7-foot high valley slope! However yet another calamity awaited me I immediately stumbled forwards and, just my luck, fell vertically 3,000 meters down a cliff face. I was soon laying on the floor slightly dazed by the events of the day, yet still trying to count my blessings. At that very moment though I heard the ‘baah’ of a sheep. It was a comforting sound. Alas it was not my Romeo Ronald but a herd of ill-tempered-mutated sheep that decided to trample upon my bear backed torso of pain suffering and humiliation.
Three cracked ribs 16 slipped disks and a snapped humorous later I stood up determined to reach my destination of Mullion Cove. But a small child of a sheep had stood in my path. Unnoticed by me I tripped over it and fell to my doom at the bottom of Davie Jones' locker. I would now never reach my destination of Mullion Cove for one week later I drowned in my own urine.