Just practising for my English Language exam..
Alan’s bed made a sharp, creaking noise as he rose from it. He stepped on the wooden floor which made another annoying noise. Alan tried registering his changed habitat, that smelled of rust and contagion. Thick, velvet curtains draped down his wall, torn but yet magnificent as if it faced the wrath of a thousand cats, survived, and now shines on to tell the tale. A broken tube-light shot jolts of electricity, persistently trying to light up; failing miserably, only to make buzzing sounds that Alan finally decided to switch off.
Dragging his feet, he slowly made his way to the window. Of course, now it was much less of a window and just a wide gaping hole in the wall. All the shattered glass spread across his floor cut and bruised Alan’s feet, but the recent events had made him hard as a stone. Reluctantly, Alan peered out of his window.
Mangled corpses lay across the cinder streets. Skyscrapers were now trash on the ground, a pile of rubble and dust. The iron pillars had all melted, owing to the fire. Suddenly, the smell of rust behind in his cottage seemed more pleasant, the sight of curtains heart-warming. For what lay in front of Alan was a scene of immense destruction, barbarism to its finest extent.
And Lennon couldn't have nailed it in harder.
“Everybody loves you when you’re six foot in the ground.”
Keith ran for his life, and soon his breath caught up to him, his muscles ached and he was sweating at a miserable rate. He didn’t want to look back, as he knew that would only amplify his fears. The sound of the footsteps of both the men synchronized, though buried by the rain, but Keith could hear each step and with each step he felt his predator was getting closer. He didn’t understand anything. He saw that man every other place he himself went to. At the soccer match, at the basketball game, in the market, this time, by the phone booth. That same man, with that same black fedora, along with black trenchcoat, neatly covering the black fullsuit the
gentleman wore, contrasting with the white shirt. And on top of that, a lavender tie that swayed with murderous rage (read: Kolaveri Di). That same man, holding in his left hand a steel knife; sharpened to its utmost capacity, with a wooden handle, as he gently played it between his fingers. Continue Reading
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I didn’t know how or why I’d come here. My memory was vague and bleak. All I knew was that I had to get out… before they came for me.
The corridor was well-lit, with glowing torches on either side. But even these could not eradicate the eerie feeling emitted by the walls of stone.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
That was my queue to run. And so I did. The yellow torches on either side of me appeared as shooting stars as I darted past them. He was coming after me… The Executioner. Continue Reading
Meh, another boring post I composed for my English assessment, thought I’d just post it here.. Here goes nothing.
Alan held it in his hands. That necklace. His fingers felt every part of it, the green emeralds neatly embedded in the slits of what were the eyes of a swan, the wings clasped together. The twenty-four karat golden swan represented freedom, yet bondage. Represented love. A tear streamed out of Alan’s sea-green eyes and fell on the necklace, mixing with the blood on it. Continue Reading
“And when the world gets in my face, I say.. Have a nice day.” Continue Reading