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.