It was the summer I turned 8, and Mom and Dad were at work. My older brothers, Jack and Sean, were out with Grandpa and Pop at an air show. I was too young to go, so I stayed home. I was standing outside, waiting for the train. I was fascinated with trains, still am in fact. The tracks next to my house, started to slowly shake, as I heard the whistle far enough away to where it could not be seen.
I went inside, and locked the side door, but I forgot to check the basement walkout door. Our dogs, Ranger and Scout, were downstairs watching the door. They were barking, when I heard something moving around in the downstairs door. I thought it was my Mom because it was getting late. The door stopped moving, and some guys walked in. They started talking to one another. I had seen one of them before. It was a kid from my school. I had talked to him maybe once.
I ran to hide under Mom and Dad's bed. One of them saw me crawling under, and pulled me out. They grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and handcuffed me to the table. I had my phone out, and they tried to take it away. I was only eight, so that didn't work out well. They gave it back to me, because I was getting on their nerves. I texted my Uncle Jamie and said, "Uncle Jamie, call Dad and bring back up to my house."
"We are on our way." He texted, "What's going on? Are you okay?"
I just texted back, "Hurry up."