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Painted safari train

Painted safari train

By maisie

Screaming teenagers ran wild, purses flying and feet staggering. The little kids grabbed their parent’s hands, hauling them deep into the park, past the beastly rollercoaster and the looming log flume. The parents placed themselves outside the rail for the safari train, cameras at the ready and backpacks resting by their feet. That’s when I saw the train, its golden glory. Little lions and giraffes delicately painted around the outside, they poked out of painted trees and painted grass. I squealed in excitement. This was the first ride I’d go on alone. I shoved my hand through the fence; finding my mums and then squeezing it as tight as I possibly could. She squeezed back and leant down to kiss my forehead, she tilted her head and smiled softly at me, water filled her eyes. I grinned back, as far as the edges of my little mouth would let me. It stuck to my face like the painted monkeys in the painted trees. Swinging round, I noticed it was my turn to climb aboard. The man in the red vest took my hand and led me onto the third carriage where a little green eyed girl sat patiently. She turned her head to face me, a huge smile appeared and her eyes lit up, she was clearly just as excited as I was. Hopping over the huge gap, I wriggled about settling myself into the carriage. I glanced over to the front, a large man stood with a microphone. The voice boomed through my ears as the safari train tugged forward and I began my adventure.
I could hear the jungle noises, a monkey squeaked and lions roared. A little plastic lion stood in the middle of a plastic bush. It was almost real, I gawped as his mouth opened and he let out a tiny little squeak of a growl. He closed it again and it was silent, but shortly after, the daddy lion let out a massive roar. I could count little cities within his jaw, the masses of teeth sharply stuck out of his gums. ‘I wish I could have a mouth like that’ I remember thinking, only to open my mouth and roar as loud as I possibly could. All the other children copied me, a whole train of baby lions trying to growl like daddy.
As we rounded the corner for the flamingo pen, I grew bored. As beautiful as they seem now, just then they were pointless. The only interesting factor they held is the fact they can stand on one leg. Sadly I couldn’t stand up and test this theory. Instead I ran my finger across the edge of the carriage; it was warm, slowly growing hotter under the summer sun. The feel of the sun was immense; I leant my head back and felt the strong heat like my mum had done a million times. She said that the sun was like a blanket across the earth, it’s like a thousand cuddles and a thousand warm fires all in one. She was right. My face was roasting, it even throbbed. Luckily I had sunscreen on, otherwise I would have a red face for the rest of my childhood, my mummy had said.
The boredom killed me as a child; normally I would have something to keep me entertained but not here. Past the lions there were just small insignificant creatures like meercats and those pointless flamingos. I dug my hand deep into my pocket where I found a leftover packet of wine gums. The best food ever. Checking to make sure my mum wasn’t in sight; I snuck it slowly into my mouth. The lime one, it was that stupid lime one. The one that tasted just like lime fruit, reminding me of a lemon. I mean it wasn’t sour, but it is a fruit that’s a lemon just green and this really confused me when I was younger. Anyway, I stuck the sweet to the roof of my mouth and pressed my tongue against it until it disappeared. However the flavour still stuck, I winced. My face squirmed until the taste had disappeared too.
By the time the ride was over, I was overwhelmed by the smell of chips. It clung onto my nose and I longed to taste the sweet golden delicious food. After I hopped off, I ran head first into my mum. She held my tightly and gave me the longest hug in history. This was the first time I had been independent from my mother and the first time I actually felt one of her warmest hugs. That’s why it’s my first childhood memory.

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About This Story
16 Mar, 2011
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3 mins
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