The Red Bullet by Seamus Eagan

​The icy cold of winter bites at my face. I can barely feel it from excitement. After weeks of waiting for this day, my new sled is ready for its maiden voyage. It is a red, plastic sled. It is about 4 feet long and 1 ½ feet wide, and it is shaped like a bullet. It is just the right length for me to lie down in at the age of eight. I put it into position and get ready to enter. As I climb into the sled, my older brother walks over to me.
“Hey can I ride with you”, he says.
“Um, no. It’s my sled.” I reply.
“But there’s room for two”
“Sorry it’s mine.”
And with that, I push myself of the top of the hill. I shoot off faster than a supersonic jet. As I shoot down the hill, I feel a rush of excitement. I finally reach the bottom, but I don’t stop. The bottom of the hill is unusually slippery. What I thought to be a mound of soft snow was actually a layer of ice with a thin layer of snow on top. I overshoot the landing area I was aiming for by a long shot. Instead, I go through a gap in the bushes that is only a little bit bigger than the sled itself. After about a minute, I manage to get out of these bushes and back into the clearing. I sprint up the hill as fast as I possibly can, with a big smile on my face.
“That was the best” I say to my dad.
“Can I go with you this time?” my brother asks.
“Fine” I reply unwillingly.
After many more rides down the hill like this, my father walks over to me and asks me if I am ready to go home now.
“Are you kidding?” I say, “I am just warming up!”
It was the first sled that I ever owned by myself. I have never thrown it out to this day. These memories are the reason that this sled is special to me.