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Tuesday, May 27, 2014

The Old Shack

WALT: write a recount 
So what: write a recount based on an event that happened to yourself in the past

The Old Shack

The engine in our sky blue station wagon moans and groans at the ashphalt road.
The simple of a newborn calf comes from the lifestock barn which we are passing by.
This was, according to my desperate parents, an extraordinary journey to a beautiful palace made of silk. Of course I'm not stupid. What they mean is a long boring ride to a muddy camp site.

We don't own a caravan so the moulding tent is our only shelter.
Usually, I love camping, but my stomach is turning in the weirdest ways it fells like I'm floating.
In early May, leaves are always scattered everywhere but for some reason they are still attached to their branches.

Finally, the rubber on the tyres make use of their friction and pull the car to a stop.
I search for the nearest bush for a rest. Found one. I quickly scurry behind it when no one is looking.
I peer out of the gaps inbetween the leaves to see who else is here. My eyes focus on a short, dark figure who's lurking about the adults. Her eyes meet mine so sharply it looks like she's been expecting me. I see fire in her eyes and everything swirls around her.
It feels like Armageddon is here. 
I quickly look away to realise she used to be my best friend. But when I turn, I spy out an old shack looking place. 
I am keen to investigate.              

The door screams at its hinges when I touch the rusted handle. 
Everything is matted with the sticky, dusty silk of the spiders abdomen. 
The shack is falling apart and it's starting to mould.
I see a light reflect off a broken mirror.
I creep towards it (trying not to make any noise) and realise its shifting off its hook. 
I carefully unhook it  and seek a dusty box in a small compartment in the wall.
I take it out to have a look. 
Guess what I found?    


Now what: continue to work on paragraphs                                                         

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