Heyo Bookaholics!

Today is the 1st post in my new and improved Storytime Wednesday series! Were each week I tell you all a story. It will typically be something that I’ve experienced, told from my perspective in a – sometimes exaggerated – kinda way. I hope you enjoy this series! Please comment your thoughts down below, and like this post to show your support for my writing xxx Let’s get stuck into the first story.

Story #1: The Long Legs Flies

Before I begin, you must understand that I had never seen a mosquito before this experience. What 9 year-old knows what a mosquito looks like? Especially when I’ve been told to stay away from the awful buzzing, biting menace to societies every summer of my life, I really took no interest in becoming acquainted with the devil himself.

This whole experience takes place in a small beachside town called Merimbula, located on the East coast of New South Wales, Australia. It’s really nice, you should go some time.

Naturally it was a excruciatingly hot summer, one of the warmest I can remember. The breeze from the ocean blew into the cabins as my best friend and I sat eating our food and watching some cartoons on the t.v.

You might be wandering why we weren’t at the beach on this excruciatingly hot summer’s day, well it was lunch time, and at lunch time, everyone goes into the cabins to watch the parents make food and then we devour it; leaving what little has been left for our amazing parents.

In all honesty I don’t know why we were inside. It was hot, we were inside eating; and the place had only one fan. So I’m going with the above explanation of us children being savages and moving on to the story.

My dad entered the cabin and began talking animately to my mother – much like all Italians do – waving his hands this way and that, describing a fish he’d almost caught. There were plenty of fish in the sea alright! Only the ones that were biting were too small to take from the water; and wouldn’t make a good meal anyways.

Meanwhile as they were talking away, my mother oh so interested in the almost-fish we would’ve eaten for dinner; I was staring down at my arm. So careful not to move I tapped my friend on the arm with my opposite hand.

“Look. Look!” I whispered, then moved my arm towards her all regard for losing the thing that sat perched on my arm, gone.

“What is that?” She responded louder than I had, and reeled back – more from my arm being in her personal space than the actual thing on my arm. I thought she’d know what it was. So I told her in my most confident voice I could muster.

“It’s a long legs fly!” Oh man I was so damn proud of myself. I thought I’d found a new species of fly. I thought I was going to be rich. I kept pointing at it, grinning from ear to ear, and staring at this thing I thought was some crazy species of fly.

I legitimately thought I’d managed to tame a fly…

But no I actually had a blood sucking deamon making camp on my arm, and my stupid nine year old brain thought I was a genius.

Dad broke the news to me, telling me straight out that that was not a fly, rather a deadly blood sucking mosquito which had flown up from the pits of hell to eat us all. Though he said it like this: “That’s a mosquito.”

My mum’s reaction was priceless, as she shrieked, attempting to shoo the thing – and myself – from the room.

Thanks mum.

Surprisingly I came off pretty unscathed, and so did my family as we slept unbitten that night, but not after a minor argument between my sister and I about who got the top bunk.