I saw it.
About two months ago.
The Westminster terrorist attack.
The one when they drove a car into pedestrians.
Four of them are dead now.
And I saw it.
And I was powerless to do anything.
And I feel miserable every time I remember that horrid day.
I wasn’t feeling too well again that day, so I didn’t go to school. Instead, I decided to take a walk.
It was at exactly 14:40, I later found out. I was just standing there, observing people absentmindedly.
And then it happened.
A grey car drove into people at full speed. Some screamed. Some never got another chance to do so.
And then this monstrous creature, more disgusting than any slimy alien in his black clothes, got out of the car and stabbed a police officer.
I was at a safe distance, but I still saw the blood.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I turned and ran full speed to I-don’t-know-where, hearing a gunshot and fearing that some other innocent person is killed. Fortunately, I later found out it was a copper’s gun, planting a bullet right into that horrible man’s heartless chest.
I later found myself in front of my hero’s house.
221B, Baker Street.
I looked up at the door, then at the sign.
“The Sherlock Holmes Museum”.
I remembered all the stories I read about the famous detective, who fought crime and injustice.
“Why?” I whispered, nearly choking. “Why weren’t you there?”
Sherlock didn’t answer.
But, come to think of it, even if he was there, what would he do?
That was when I first experienced true emotions. Tears welled up in my eyes. I shook my head, turned, and walked back home. There I just dropped down on my bed and cried.
I never want to experience anything like this again.
P.S. Cairo’s been found, stuck in a pipe. He’s now safe and at home.
P.P.S. I’m going mad. I want to marry Amy. She was just too sweet and understanding.
P.P.P.S. Chili and Cairo like each other.