[meyn-jee]
–adjective, -gi·er, -gi·est.
1. having, caused by, or like the mange.
2. contemptible; mean: a mangy trick.
3. squalid; shabby: a mangy little suburb
Why are you supposed to do this? Because you're supposed to involve your reader and you can't do that if you have all these sentiments about "He was sad. He was angry. He was depressed." Also, that is a bit boring to read. Anyway, our last assignment/writing prompt was writing about a picture. Now I don't have a scanner, well, I do, but it's not hooked up and I don't know how to use one anyway, and I don't feel like taking a picture of a picture and then uploading, but I will write what I wrote about it! And, if I ever do upload the picture, I'll be sure to "edit" this and add it. Without further ado, here it is!
In a world where every inch is filled with water, one man survives. His days are bleak and weary, but he rows, leaving ripples which disturb the still sea. It is a trail, that will soon be erased, but the only one he leaves behind as he searches to find a piece of land or another human being, anything to get him out of this Atlantis nightmare.
He has little faith in finding either, but he refuses to believe he is the last man on earth, the only survivor of man-kind. However, he is resigned to spend the rest of his days searching. Why? he asks himself, for speaking aloud seems pointless to such a vast world. Because, he answers simply, I must. There is two other inconceivable options which he can barely gives thought to: to wait until someone, if there is anyone, to find him, or to give up, release himself from the struggle and to forfeit his life to the ocean.
- - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -- - - - - -- -- - - - -- - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The sun rose today, he noted, which was a worthy fact for the sky had been like ashes for the past week, He made a small indent on the boat, no bigger than a finger-nail mark, with his pocket-knife. There was hardly any room left with 2,373 marks, one for each day of his new life at sea. It was something that kept him sane and his brain functioning. For although nothing else may occur within the next twenty-four hours, the sun would always awaken the day and the moon would always close it. That simple fact made him rational.
Most people would have gone crazy after a year, let alone six, but for some reason he did not. Nor did he waste away. No matter how cold the water was, if it was a sunny day, he would swim, towing the boat behind him. He had a fear that his legs would start losing muscle and eventually become useless.
There was silence but for the continuous motion of the rows gently gliding into the water, a repetition for which he was used to. No birds or other noises were about. Minutes faded into hours, his muscles, now hardened against such labor, felt no strain.
(This is my own personal work- copyrighted) Anyone wondering how this story will end will keep wondering since I probably will NOT finish it. I'm horrible at finishing stories. Plus, if you wanted to describe how you think the picture that inspired this looks like.. feel free to. Or if you have a way you think the story will end, also be my guest.
Also, the next time is writing about something that has happened to you through someone else's perspective, and honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do. I know I said I might do two blogs, but I do not have the effort to right now. So I guess tomorrow I'll have to do three, eh? (I doubt I'll get that many in btw. lots of things to do manana! [tomorrow in Spanish without the cool thing over the 'n'] Something to note upon, this is the first time I used spell check and didn't have any words pop up! Which, in my opinion, is a little weird. Oh well, something to be glad about! Ah, never mind it's broken, I found a misspelled word. So if words are not what they're supposed to be- blame spell check.
No comments:
Post a Comment