"Those who try to play with the big boys will find how small they truly are" - A personal narrative with a "moral".

Essay by Zmac18High School, 12th gradeA+, November 2006

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The sun had set on the farm only hours before, but being only six, it seemed to be pitch black out to me. My Dad had held a campout at our farm, in a grove of oak trees that we had dubbed "The Park". A group of guys that worked with my dad, on the farm, were attending and had the idea to play hide-and-go-seek in a beanfield less than 20 yards from the fire circle at our campsite. Jason, my favorite of the "Big Boys", was "It", so I really wanted to play. I begged to play with them, but my Mother answered with a final "No". Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I rushed blindly into the bean field where the game had already begun.

"Over here!" I heard one of them yell.

"Gotch ya'!" Yelled another, and then, "Olly-olly oxen free!"

I could hear all of their laughs and shouts all around me, but I hadn't been able to find any of the "Big Boys".

After a few minutes of searching and following their voices, I began to realize that the voices seemed to be moving farther and farther away. The dark seemed to get darker, and it had to some extent. Then, I could only hear the soft drone of the voices coming from the campsite.

What if I never find my way out of here? What if everyone leaves the campsite?

These thoughts enveloped all conscious thought and transformed it into panic. I frantically began running deeper into the beanfield, tears making rivulets down my face. I continued to run without any motive but to get out of the bean field. Bean plants scratched my face and neck, but I kept running. I kept running until...