Sinking Feeling

Macie Mcbride

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Later in the same year of the Insect Crunch Bar incident, rain was not an uncommon occurrence in the small town of Providence, Utah. The pale gray skies speckled the usually vibrant blues of the sky; painting the perfect conditions for jumping into puddles. My mom had recently bought a pair of expensive rain boots for me, though I was not fond of them and rejected the pair fairly quickly. “Just wear them today and if you don’t like them I’ll return them.” I had remembered her saying as she tapped and slid an index finger across the Candy Crush screen. I snorted and reluctantly agreed, I was pretty confident I would win this battle of opinions- since I usually did. Puddles pinpointed and marked the sidewalks and carpets inside the school, muddy tracks twined with the scuffed carpets, and kids sat in their assigned desks with arms grumpily crossed with a pair of wet socks.

 

The day wore on to the point of Lunch-time. The second grade teacher lined her small army of second graders in a line before marching them along the hallway towards the stairs leading to the lunch room. At the time I had a decent amount of friends- but just one best-friend. We had sat together at lunch that day, anticipating the rainy weather outside. With those expensive rain-boots cradling my dry socks and feet; we headed out. The school property was massive, several sets of swings lined up together, a large play-ground, a concrete area for soccer or other activities, while a large field covered the remaining property. Near one of the corners of the field lay a kickball-field- it’s purpose unneeded during this droopy day. However, I thought it could be used for fun. I beckoned my friend to follow along as she repeatedly questioned why we had come all this way. I swung myself around as we entered the muddy field, instructing her what to do. I remember pointing to the damp gravel and muddy dirt before stating, “Stand in a spot for a second, then jump out!” The simple sentence mRelated imageade sense as the mud would close around our shoes. A smile peeled at the corners of her lips as she approached the event with little hesitation.

Time crept by, and we were still very entertained with sinking in muddy gravel and dirt before leaping out of harm’s way. My friend had found another thing that intrigued her more than sinking in mud, so she simply began poking the mud-bubbles. I had noticed and turned the other way. I glanced down at the mud as it slowly climbed up my boots towards the top. Then, I was stuck. Mud wrapped around my boots and pressed on the top of them- this is it. ‘This is the time I die, I won’t get my sandwich when I get home because I’ll be dead.’ I twisted my body around has much as physics would allow, barking to my friend to get an Aid. She glanced up from her mud-poking, her eyes widened within seconds. She hopped up, throwing a leg up to catch her balance before darting off the field as if she had been running from some unknown creature. I stood there, the mud slowly eating my shoes; I frantically wiggled about to escape. It seemed as though time was becoming slow on itself while kids crowded the muddy kick-ball field with a second grader sinking in it. The Aid shoved passed several of the kids, all of their eyes locked on the small girl sinking in mud. “How’d you get stuck?” She hissed bitterly, attempting to wade out onto the thick mud. “I don’t know!” I had cried, my eyes swelling with tears. This fuss stretched out for along the fifth-teen minute time frame, all of the students were still lined around the field while I desperately wailed for the Aid to rescue me. The bell rang and kids fled the scene as if they had committed the crime. My friend abandoned me. It was only me and the Aid. She snorted and wiped her arm across her face hotly before retreating towards a large line of trees. The woman came back several minutes later with a large stick in hand- I was finally free.

 

“Hey! How was your day?” My mom asked as she fixed my favorite sandwich; dubbed the ‘special sandwich’. “Good.” I had said.

She doesn’t know about that accident still.

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1 Comment

One Response to “Sinking Feeling”

  1. Laura Mitchell on October 27th, 2017 9:27 am

    Great story!

Sinking Feeling