Monday, 3 November 2014
Homework Blues
As I shuffled into the classroom, I knew that Mr. Van Camp would never believe me. I looked at my scuffed shoes and mumbled, " My homework is not done, Sir. I do have a good excuse though."
" This is not the first time your homework has not been completed. Perhaps," Mr. Van Camp suggested, "it's time to speak with your parents."
"Please, you have no idea what will happen to me if you phone my home," I moaned. It looked as if he was going to fall for my story.
"Well, let's hear your excuse. It better be good."
I hesitated, then sauntered into a story of how my grandmother passed away. And being an emotional teenage girl I was able to pull the wonder tears.
Mr. Van Camp spoke in a caring tone, "I'm so sorry to hear that."
"It's okay," I paused "it's just the circle of life, a cliche, but quite a true one"
"It seems that I have decided, to allow you one more day to complete your assignment" spoke Mr.
Van Camp in a sympathetic tone.
"Thank you for understanding, and giving me one extra day to conclude my homework."
I hurried out of the room, and began to work as soon as I could.
Friday, 17 October 2014
The Motivation Behind his Mendacious Mind
If you have
ever been lied to, than you immediately understand how much your heart drops
when you find out the cold truth.
Wednesday, 1 October 2014
The Blatant Release
She smokes because it's the only way to exhale the demons that consume her lungs. A blatant release, though temporary, it remains effective. The stress that was capable of over throwing her right mind, now creases and engulfs her once youthful being. Filled with many tales to tell, there is one, more important that pertains to her decision to fill her lungs with a thick, foreign marinade. As your eyes take a promenade down every deteriorating hill that is etched into her face, you will notice a pair of puckered lips pressing out the steamy remains of the tar that will soon devour her lungs. The sweet smoke curls like fingers which beckon to come closer. And as the ashes drifted from the cigarette, she could feel the weight of a ghost occupying the once empty space between her fingertips. Though aged and dignified, the youth still remains as it courses through the rings placed upon her fingers and pulses outward in a scatter across her brain.
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