It was a sunny afternoon in June 2024. The sun was blazing. The beach was calm and peaceful, with soft golden sand and gentle waves touching the shore where seashells sparkled in the sunlight.

There I was, playing with the waves, splashing and enjoying myself with my cousins. At a distance, our parents sat watchfully, instructing us not to go too deep into the sea or too far from the hut. After a while, our parents called us in for lunch. We rushed inside, ate a delicious meal and then went to the balcony to watch the shore.

We were chatting when Sarah spotted tiny, shimmering objects on the beach. Excited, we ran down to see what it was. To our surprise, a fresh batch of seashells had washed ashore.

Mesmerised, we began collecting them. They were scattered across a long stretch of sand and, as we searched for the best ones, we lost track of distance and time, and wandered far from our hut. We were now in a deserted area, lined with rocks.

Excited, Sarah and I sat on one of the rocks, sorting our shells. Suddenly, I felt something wriggle near my feet. I looked down and froze. It was a snake. I screamed — and then, snap! I was bitten.

Pain shot through my foot as it began to swell. I cried for help. My cousins panicked and ran away. Upon seeing us missing, our parents had started searching for us and reached just then. Without wasting a moment, they rushed me to the nearest hospital.

The journey felt endless. As soon as we arrived, I was taken to the emergency room and given anti-venom. After a few hours, when I had calmed down, I broke into tears and apologised to my parents.

For weeks, I couldn’t run. I realised my mistake and learned an important lesson.

From that day on, I promised to stay alert, be aware of my surroundings and always inform my parents before going on any new adventure.

Published in Dawn, Young World, May 16th, 2026