I wrote a story about a boy who wishes he can race remote control cars. We looked at a photo and had to write a story about the scene.
This is my story :
It was a cold, foggy morning. we woke up at 5am and went straight to the track. We got there, and Dad ran like a stampede to the bridge and got ready to race.
As I slowly staggered to the fence, I heard it. The hooter blew. My hands grasped the fence as all the rc stock cars went past. The speed of the stock cars blew the leaves up like a kid running away from a great Dane.
I slouched. My dream was to do this, but I was too young. The thought of racing one day gave me goosebumps. I saw a black and green car at the front. Suddenly I realised it was my dad’s car! I was so happy I shouted out to the top of my lungs,
I heard a person from the farmhouse next door,
“BE QUIET I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!” bawled the exasperated farmer. My head hit the top wire. OUCH! That hurt. I sat down rubbing my head for a while.
Then, the cars were near the finish line. It was a battle against a blue and red car and my dad’s car. They were neck and neck! I recalled my dad putting turbocharger in his stock car. All he needed to do was press a button. I saw my dad’s finger hovering over the button. Suddenly flames started coming out the back! It worked! It zoomed past the finish line! When I walked over it just exploded. My dad couldn’t afford to get another rc car. That was It. I knew it was a risk. I was gutted.