I Lost It and Want It Back
It was 1987. I was five years old. My family and I were on our way back from a vacation in Mexico. We had stopped at the side of the road, due to a flat tire. The incident occurred right there, in full view of my family.
I stood there in the dirt, drinking a bottle of cold water. The day was hot, and I wanted to stay hydrated. Suddenly, and without warning, Mexican guerillas jumped out from the towering cornstalks that lined the highway. They grabbed me, and I was dragged into cornfield. My family stood frozen, powerless to stop them.
The guerillas took me down into an underground facility built deep into the center of the field. We entered a lab where I was hooked up to monitors and a strange device that I did not recognize. I thought they were going to kill me, but I did not cry. I remained strong, but so did the guerillas.
After several hours of testing, probing, and monitoring, I saw my chance for escape. I quickly grabbed the gun of a guard who stood near. His surprise allowed me to knock him unconscious. I ran out the door and through the cornfield. My family was still there, waiting for me. I jumped into the car, and we drove on home as fast as we could. It was another hundred miles down the road when I realized what the guerillas were after, my mind. They had stolen it when I was being tested and probed.
I have since traveled back to that very spot at the side of the road, but the guerillas and the facility were long gone. I am very angry that I allowed this to happen to myself. I lost my mind, they stole it, and I want it back!
