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An Unforgettable Experience
It was a stormy day. The winds were blowing fiercely, and the streets were had turned chaotic. Trees were uprooted, lying gaspingly on the sidewalks. Sign-boards were teetering. The tortuous downpour had lasted for over a week, wearing and tearing our patience. Our hearts were just like the weather- cold, terrible and dark.
Grandmother was sleeping upstairs. None of us dared to wake her up and tell her the terrible news that grandfather was at his last moment. Mother asked, “How can we get to the hospital? There is water everywhere.” The water had flooded the first floor and the situation outside was terrible-- it rained heavily and the fierce winds seemed to tear people out. However, we still made our best efforts trying to get out.
Our car would not start because water had got into it. Therefore, we decided to take a taxi, meaning that we had to wade through the water to get one. We clasped each other’s hands tightly to make sure we would not lose anyone. All of us were drenched and cold. I felt like thousands of sharp stings were pricking me. The winds looked like uncountable merciless killers, trying to tear us apart. It became darker and darker, which made our situation even worse because we could barely tell which way to go. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by water and I felt something was dragging me down. I kept struggling and my lungs seemed to blow up. It was only a few minutes before Father pulled me up. I might have been killed in that invisible pit, which was filled up with water. The thoughts that I could have been killed kept haunting me.
On August 7, 1995, my grandfather died. He had become a skeleton, too thin to be recognized. His eyes were open and staring. The doctor said it was because the muscles were too rigid. I think maybe he was expecting us to show up in the hospital when he was at his last moment. Maybe he had many things to tell us, but none of us could be with him. I kept thinking about all these things.
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