Pure, serene, untouched. The moment I stepped foot on this island I knew it had never been tarnished by human existence.
Wild, eccentric, untamed. Nature had never been so free to sprout its canopy of trees which soared into the azure sky.
Garlands of lilies, tulips, roses traced every inch yearning for the touch of a lover. The rugged barks of trees and eccentric herbs awaited the dexterity of their value. Lush grasses shrouded millions of undiscovered species which clothed the island like a green woolen blanket.
Remorse invaded my system and pity intoxicated my veins as the realization of what human civilization has robbed off nature stung me. Shame paralyzed my every being and caused me to stand rooted to the ground - terrified to leave my mark any further. I had done enough damage.
This panorama is beyond comparison to the towering skyscrapers and intricate architecture. This panorama is the fundamental of a poet’s outcome, an artist’s masterpiece, a dancer’s frolic. This panorama is the epitome of beauty - a beauty foreign to our modernized eyes.
I woke with misty eyes that obscured my vision but the reality only hit me slow. It was all a blur, the accident, the final screams…then it suddenly struck me, my heart raced, I didn’t have a clue of what became of my family. The hospital room was white and smelled familiar. The clean sheets covered me and my despair. I could only see my plastered leg, no other serious injury. I was covered in tubes connected to an array of familiar and alien devices. I tried to scream for assistance but dread blocked my efforts and I broke into tears. It was all my fault, if I hadn’t played mercy with my sister in the back seat then my dad who was driving wouldn’t had have to turn to tell us to stop and he could have avoided the speeding van.
Just then a young nurse walked in with a tray of food and at my sorry looking state she put the tray down and walked towards my bed, perhaps she just tried to console me but her efforts only made me rage with anger, she would have never went through such a big commotion in her life, then how could she possibly try and abate my agony. Her efforts were in vain and she grew tiered too and passed the tray of food to me and left me, which was a good decision as I didn’t feel like seeing anyone. How could I possibly face my relatives, they would probably thing I’m just a trouble maker, the rebel of the family, but they would never know the misery that flowed through my veins, the veins that carry the same blood as my kin. The though broke me down, the trickle of tears moistened my face with guilt and shame and with that thought I drifted off to a very disturbing slumber. I dreamt that I was back in the car goofing off with my sister playing mercy…the whole story relived.
Upon my awakening I noticed the doctor checking my pulse and I must have startled him because he jumped a little when I said excuse me with the very last of my strength. This was the perfect opportunity to enquire about my family and I seized the moment but what the words that left his mouth wasn’t what I expected at all…the next thing I remember was driving in the car with my aunt and arriving the graveyard that bared the bodies of my family, the death that I caused, how could I ever forgive myself. That was the last I saw of any body at all, after the incident I cut myself off from the world, shutting my past with it…
A sea of foliage girds my garden,
In it are blended many things;
It has crimson fragile roses which stand with funny poses,
The jealous plum marigolds become ferocious.
The sunflowers aren’t in the rat race, nor are they vicious;
Their xanthous petals reflect the sun’s glory.
This verdure is overlooked by the watchful eyes of the coconut tree;
Who’s existence is byzantine and experiences are profound.
The unsung embellishes are the haphazard grass and the pesky insects;
Without them this vista would be invariably incomplete.
This picturesque vista is a result of the endeavors of many;
It has unfathomable memories from years gone by so many.
The garden carries the happiness to see a plant flower
And the profound sorrow of a plant’s demise.
This splendor becomes dead quiet at night,
Even the grasshopper can be heard under the moon’s dim light.
A solitary place this garden turns out to be,
Is it a seventh heaven you have just seen?
A thrilling read which magnifies upon Jessica, an ordinary American teen with an extraordinary adventure. Shadow web is an enthralling story that illustrates on the balance of fact and mystery of everything we know. I find this book to pop out from any other book I have read because of the contrast shown between imagination and reality. This novel produces a limpid picture about hardships, friendships, trust and hope. A story that intertwines through one’s mind and creates chaos in your thinking.
Memory, a powerful medium to ponder at the delightful old times and lament at the bad ones. Life is not meant to be easy and at times we may be confronted by our biggest of fears. But with every gloomy night comes an optimistic day, illuminating everything around you, showing you indeed that life is meant to be lived happily and peacefully. My childhood is a concotion of those bitter and cruel moments as well the sentimental and delightful ones. Indeed I should thank God for blessing me with a wonderful and caring family and supportive friends for making this world a great place for me. I do desire to go back to those times where everything was simple and enjoyable but I also urge to look at the bright and successful future that lays ahead of me and work relentlessly on it so I can achieve all my objectives.
Someone once asked me the above question, what was my answer you ask? Well…I think it’s safe enough to say that I told her the truth.
Reading fictional books, my personal favourite, intrigues me with their outrageous yet imaginable plots. Authors, given that they have a morsel of evidence, possess the ability to make a reader believe anything. To have such power is preposterous!
Writers could easily suck a reader into the plot with the various descriptions, making the reader feel as though they are living in or watching the story unfold in front of their very own eyes.
Besides feeling the desire to be a fictional character (ridiculous, I know), there’s the obvious fact that one can gain knowledge from reading books, knowledge that you may only ever stumble upon, years later in life.
Taking all these points in consideration, I answered the above question in absolute confidence, saying: I read books because I also get to live them!
I finally decided on a book, a random selection from an isolated shelf. I walked back to the central corridor- a long straight void with bookshelves on both sides and the frail silhouette of the librarian in the distance. I took a divergence towards a vacant chair under a window, an ideal setting for a silent read…
The corner was a bit gloomy, my main source of lighting being the sunlight that sifted through the broad windows-that too, interrupted frequently by the scurrying clouds. However, there was a pin drop silence everywhere…which possibly meant that I and the librarian were the only ones in the mammoth area. The silence was suddenly broken as I heard the faint sounds of footsteps and a few distant chuckles. The sounds amplified within seconds and I could see a bunch of girls had occupied a table not that far from me. I was hidden behind a congested shelf so they probable couldn’t see me from their angle as they continued with their banter. Their silent conversation grew into an annoying cacophony which resulted in the librarian paying them a visit and snarling at the crowd. I shifted my attention back to my book, with the charming aromas of lavender and rose perfumes lingering in the air.
I tried hard to read amidst the distractions and the lack of lighting; the sun’s face had been veiled by a sea of clouds. By then, one of the girls had ventured out to a nearby aisle to scavenge for an interesting book. I could see her through the miniscule gaps between the books (in a nearby shelf).
She was possibly the best example of the term ‘beauty’. Through the tiny spaces I could see her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her pail face resembled that of a Chinese doll and her tall stature and slim figure were just the icing on the cake. As she came closer, rejecting countless books by now, I managed to get a sneak peek of her piercing eyes.
A few more girls cam by her side, all dressed like the quintessential American teen. They began their chatter again and its amplitude grew by the minute. I could see the librarian scaling the corridor ferociously for another snarl. I knew it wasn’t a good day for reading and I walked off towards the exit after looking at those piercing hair and cascading hair one last time…
This school year I have numerous hopes. Year 10 is an important year in my academics as it commences my journey towards university life. I know all this time, I was preparing for stepping out into the real world; ever since elementary we were trained to excel and achieve towards the next level. However, I feel it’s only begun to dawn on me that in the next three years, I’ll be calculating risks on my own. Every choice I make and how I perform academically as well as socially determines my future.
My hopes for this year are to achieve high grades and develop with maturity and depth in my writing. I hope in the midst of all the hectic schedules and the numerous coursework and deadlines ahead, I would not lose my focus on the things that really matter. I hope I would always stay grounded and humble no matter how far I have gone or achieved. I want to continuously learn from my failures and look ahead on what is to come.
Coming to fears, I try my best not to focus on the negative. I believe if you have a positive mindset, things that you hope for can be achieved. As the latin phrase suggests ”Cogito ergo sum” meaning “I think therefore I am.” Fears are weights that hold you down from chasing after your dreams and aspirations.
Hopes are the goals towards accomplishment and satisfaction.Hope is a feeling that anything can be accomplished or the assuredness that everything will turn out for the best.Coming to the point my hopes for being a first languge, set A student would be able to submit atleast one admirable and distinguished piece of work.I have a very determined character and my prime interest due to the high standards expected of me is to be able to stay in track with my yearly/monthly goals
Coming to the antonym of what I was saying, my fears would be that I would not be able to achive such high hopes in time and that I would not only let my hopes down but the people who expected great things out of me.
What you desire is hope. What excites you in the future is hope. What you believe in the future is hope. Meaning that hope is like a spirit who gives you courage in desperate times and who sometimes keeps you going on and on … As bright as the sun , hope is a feeling as comfortable as possible. What you hope is what you want to achieve in the future. my hope is to avoid fear.
What you avoid , what you are scared of , what ( mostly ) you hate is fear. it is a feeling that makes you hesitate doing something. Fear can be and cant be avoided depending on your personality. Fear is a corrrupted thing that leads you astray. My fear is to loose hope.
Along with all responsibility, come sleepless nights and entertainment sacrifices, if you may know what I mean! Being selected among the very distinguished, to make my way to first language was a great achievement for me, but as always, it means devotion and effort, which I have to accustom myself to, as I think of myself to be a very lazy person. First language would help me get into a more productive state of mind and help me express myself better to the world. But the most distasteful thought for me, is failure; the inability to cope with the curriculum and not being able to perform when required. This year, striving towards achieving an A*-C in first language English, would be one of my main motives.