The Eiffel Tower


I was having the time of my life at the city of Paris. For a while, until something rather tragic happened. It all started like I said before, in Paris and nothing could have gone wrong. My parents had waited until 9:00 at night to go on the Eifel tower and see the whole city lit up below us. It was gorgeous. I had seen the seemingly small cars driving (some of them zooming) through the streets like tiny fireflies. You would’ve been dumb to not know that my parents were filled with joy. Their smiles stretched from cheek to cheek.

My brother, John, unzipped his black and turquoise backpack and reached in for his algebra homework and made it into a paper airplane. Believe me, my dad would’ve stopped him in a second, but they were too distracted sightseeing. He went to the edge and threw it in the cold, night air. The piece of paper twirled around, going up and down and still kept on soaring like a real plane would. And when it flew right past a bird, little drops of snow fell down from the clouds. I wandered to the edge, reaching to touch the small, wet snow, and I had felt the cool, liquid ice. In a few seconds, I had realized I was too close to the edge.

To tell you the truth, this is when the tragic part kicked in. My legs lost balance and I fell off the edge hanging on to the metal ground with one hand. “Help!” I screamed, scared out of my mind. If someone doesn’t help me in time, I would be going to… well, you know. My parents snapped out of it and ran to the scene. “Please!” I screamed again knowing that my parents already were trying to help. My dad bent down and tried to pull my arm, but he was starting to slip off of the tower, too. “I’m trying my best!” My dad said tugging with his face as red as beetroot, my mother like a sheet.

John came to me too and pushed my dad out of the way. “Hang on, Dad. Let me try.” He bent down, pulled with all his strength and all of a sudden I started levitating up. My dad had a flicker of hope in his eyes. “You’re doing it John! C’mon! You can do this!” I was starting to go up even higher until I could almost even almost stand up. John’s legs were slipping like he was almost on ice. I finally reached to the top and I stood up on my legs. “You saved my life!” I said cheering as loud as I could. Then, before my own eyes he went to stand up, but slipped off the edge dreadfully. “JOHN!!!!” I screamed almost wanting to jump off again with him. In a matter of seconds other screams could be heard throughout the monument. He was flying to the ground faster than you could ever imagine. An ambulance helicopter flew to the ground and saved him right when he landed. The helicopter was bright blue with a big, bright star on top of it.

My parents and I ran down to the bottom of the tower and went to the helicopter. “Is he dead? Is he alright?” I asked the pilot trying to hide my tears. The pilot had a big white mask on with a brown and blue suit on. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t look too good right now but we’ll find out as soon as we can. I ran to John on a dark green cot. “John, John, are you awake?” I asked him. No answer. Blood was dripping right down his light brown jacket that was given to him for Christmas. He turned his head to reveal three bright red scrapes on his head. The doctors took him in the copter and closed the doors. We got in a black and red convertible and started to follow the helicopter hovering above us.

We were lead to a nearby hospital called “Saint Columbus Hospital.” My parents and I got out of the car and walked to the lit up hospital 10:30 at night. We got in the emergency room and saw that John was kept in a bright yellow tube with a breathing mask on. The man in the room wrote something on his blackboard and rubbed his head. He muttered something under his breath and closed his eyes. “It appears he is suffering with something called “Acoma.” We will try the best we can to make him better, but he will be asleep for maybe a full two weeks. The man didn’t really look like he could be a doctor. It looked as if he could be dressed up for a party or something. He had straight grey hair and a black tuxedo with long red tie with shiny black shoes. “I’m sorry. My name’s Dr. Equadred.” He said showing my parents his I.D card.

“I’m sorry but we need some time to work. Please come back tomorrow.” He said showing me and my parents to the door. We went to the main desk and they gave us these tickets so we could enter tomorrow. They were pink and red that said, “ENTRY PERMISSION.” I held on to it as tightly as I could in my hand. I couldn’t cry any more than I wanted to. This day started great and ended as a nightmare. All I could do was hope that John would get better. All I could do was hope.