The life of a golf ball

From the perspective of a golf ball

I am a golf ball. I am little. I am white. I am shiny. I am hard. I am covered with dimples. I used to have a very good life in a box with my brother and my sister. That did not last.

One day we were taken out of our little box and put in a bag. My brother disappeared. I never saw him again. I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. The next day, a hand came into the bag and plucked me out. I was placed upon a small piece of wood. I heard a whirring sound. 

Then? Ouch. I was struck. The next thing I knew I was soaring through the air. It was glorious. I landed with a soft plop. I bounced and rolled, finally coming to rest on some moist green grass.

After a short period of time, I heard the sound, felt the pain and was sent soaring again.  This time I landed smack dab onto shorter grass. Next, I was gently struck, and I rolled, dropped quickly and fell into a hole. There I made a satisfying clunking noise. Time after time I heard the noise, felt the pain and went flying through the air.…