Essay on Events: A bad day in my life

I felt confident that for the first time

I would complete all of my regular plans as I had written them down in my pocketbook. On one particular day, I was just expected to attend Joe’s birthday party and then drive back home before catching up with my evening classes and sending an assignment whose deadline had expired. Certainly, the circumstances that followed mirrored the toughest day in my life.
I had not realized that my phone’s battery was running low during our time at the club. And if I had to, how could I tell for those best mixes of the latest hits? It was worth the effort we had put in that is dancing our hearts out. After a long afternoon that seemed short due to extreme excitement, we walked past the graveyard into the bus station, and I waved off my Friend Joe and his girlfriend, as they got into a saloon car. Just as every other good friend, I reminded Joe, that we should meet in college for our evening classes.

I hurried back into my car and started off.

After thirty minutes’ drive, the fuel indicator did the unexpected in the middle of the highway; the car was running out of gas and would stop any minute from then. I pulled off the road to find alternative means of reaching home. It was evident that I had to get a taxi and a way of pulling my car to any nearby petrol station. Unfortunately, I had unknowingly left my wallet at home. As if in a dream I frisked myself. I unfolded the sleeves of my shirt, checked the collar, the shoes and hat. It was not anywhere! Then I reached out for my mobile phone with confidence so that I could remind my sister that I had forgotten my wallet and was stuck in the outskirts of the city from a friend’s birthday party. To my surprise, the phone was long dead; I could not send a text message or make a call.

Now, while I remained secured between a rock and a hard place

I pondered over what fate was waiting for me. Just last Friday, police department had warned the public of conmen who pretend to be in need of help and turn they rob the people who tried to help them of their valuables. I hated that trick so much that I had vowed not to help people I did not know
Besides, who did not know of the ugly stories of wild animals attacking people in the suburbs after even before sunset? Nobody had ever remained to tell the tale of what happened to them. So, I was obliged by circumstance to do what I hate most, seeking help from strangers. My case would even be worse because I needed pure help with nothing left in my hands. As expected, the first taxi driver I tried to stop was willing to help if only I had some little money for gas. To him, he was not in need of the required fare. In my second attempt, the lone traveler had expressed the pure heart of a Good Samaritan but insisted on my identification card due to security concerns. All had remained in the wallet. When his voice finally appealed as he ignited the engines ’Not even a mobile phone?’ I knew for sure that I could be living in the last hours of my life.

I decided to walk back home

and though it was practically impossible, this was the only option left. Darkness was slowly leaping and the evening classes would soon begin. I had partially given up in asking for help because it made me look like a typical criminal, a nonsensical felon. Many cars and even public service vehicles passed and I imagined what the people on board said about me. Could be they reminded their partners of the warning statement issued by the police, or maybe some pitied me of being ignorant of the wild animal’s attacks that had gone viral on the social media. Well, I hated myself and as my mind continued to torture me, mother’s counsel re-occurring, worked out with the extreme dancing and party spirit only to end up in this perilous jungle!

After walking one mile

I stumbled over a homestead where I requested for help. The owner felt sorry for what had happened to me and offered me a free escort in his car to my home place. I hurriedly reached for my books in the closet and rushed to school. It was until our lecture requested that we submit our assignments at the end of the lesson that I checked into my bag and noticed that my assignment was missing. It could have remained on the table; maybe my sister had mistakenly taken it alongside her books. Even though I had hopes of getting it, it would be late submission.

From the gas incident where I could have lost my life

to forgetting my wallet at home such that I could not afford a taxi to my home place. As if that was not enough, the same day I could not submit my assignment leaving me a victim of fate in grade awards, surely there is no day that could be worse than this in my life history.