Why You Should Not Play With Knives

Have you ever imagined accidentally stabbing yourself? No? Well I hadn’t either until it happened one summer day. I was just a small nine year old, and as you can imagine, I was very energetic and creative. On this day I learned that you really should not play with knives.
“That sounds like so much fun!” I yelled to my little brother, Ryan. He had suggested that we should go out into the woods behind my grandparents house and pretend we were stuck in the forest trying to survive. We all adored the show man, women, wild. So we decided that we would play man, women, women wild. My cousin Katie, Ryan and I all gathered our supplies, which included water bottles, some crackers, dull kitchen knives, and some yarn. Then we set off for the woods. When we got out to the woods we placed our stuff down and we decided we needed spears. We each grabbed sticks and took our knives and started cutting the sticks to make them sharp, like spears. But then something went terribly wrong. While I was stabbing at a little stub on my stick my hand slipped and the knife plunged into my leg. I screamed out in pain and fear. I yanked the knife out and threw it onto the ground. Tears started to run down my face and onto my shirt. My cousin

Grandpa!” Katie starts to scream and runs into the house frantically. I look down at my leg and blood starts to drip down my legs. I don’t remember much after that because I was in total shock. But I do remember my grandpa coming outside in his towel and carrying me to the steps and looking at my wound. I asked him nervously, “Am I going to die?” I looked down at my now blood soaked jeans thinking that I was going to die. He shakes his head and reassures me that I am not going to die. His reassurance is helpful and much needed. Then he runs inside to get dressed while my grandma ties a sock around my small leg to stop the bleeding. I can hear Katie inside crying in fear. My grandpa returns dressed and he picks me up and brings me to the