Personal Narrative: My Genocide

When I was 8 years old, my father took me and my brother on a picnic. On that day, I did something wrong, and I will never forget it. It was a sunny day; I was very happy and excited. When we arrived there, my father warned me that the river was very dangerous and made me promise not to walk up to it. I promised my father, but I did not keep my promise.
I forget why I walked into the river. Maybe I was curious. I walked into the river, and I fell down because the river was very deep. I could not stand and touch the bottom. I cried out loudly, but nobody was there, except my younger brother.
I remember that my younger brother was very scared and did not know what he could do because he was just 7 years old. He jumped into the river, but that