English Literature

Left and right, the enemies are coming in full force. I gather my strength and as soon as the door is opened, I swim relentlessly ahead of the wave, undeterred by the amused look of the shop keepers. I run, kick, jump, thrash and seize the gold right in front of the enemies. Not letting a second go to waste, I find my way to the next target. Making full use of my long upper limbs, I counter the offensive tactic of the one opposite to me and land myself in a favorable position to prey on the last piece of apparel. I then direct my gaze toward the girl who is working on the money-numbering machine. Now, I detect a moving snake of hunters and gathers closing in and encircling her. s28f0fs24lang2057listtag0My central controlling department starts sending out signals that the time is not right yet to exit the battle-field and my emotions-management department further concludes that I should feel much elevated with a few additions to my hoard. By the time I get out of the treasure-ground, triumphant and victorious, the sun has already been half-eaten and the sky is now pale with pain and grief. I solemnly commemorate the temporary death of eight plastic warriors. Their death is unbearable they were as close as a kin they fought along my side in many a great battles. Now they are dead. I am wretched and sorrowful. Even more so because I know not how to revive them. They are dead and I lack the means. My four-wheeled machine submissively takes me back to my familiar shelter. No lights emitting from the once-amiable windows, the front door vouchsafes to look at me. The pavement grasses rage and shout. They envy my new found wealth. I neglect their clamor and greet the door. Silence greets me back. Where is the Lord, my husband, my sun, my life The time-observer announces that it is ripe time to dine. I should not be alone at this hour. How irregular for me not to see my other half now Impatiently, I decide to put my treasures in my chamber. Silence greets me in every corner. Its frosty breath shakes the listless air. I open the wardrobe. And what I see My jewelry box is gone. So is my expensive Rolex watch. Nowhere do I find my prized bags. Defying the towering rage, I descend the stair and start ransacking all letters and documents in the table. Piles of unpaid bills loudly condemn and lash on me. But I ignore them, silencing them against one another. Then my whole constitution freezes at a letter on the kitchen table. It is a stranger to my den. I skim fast over that rows of words. My red atoms refuse to stay calm. I have lost my shelter because my husband has exchanged it for a pack of paper. How miserable now all my appearance-enhancing goods are taken away for sale cheaply I am doomed because my sun has fallen prey to the frauds and abominable knaves. And I am forced to walk the path of exile with my weary heart, lonesome and loveless. But I refuse to. A wise man must be patient. In pain and grieve, I mutter those words to myself. I search the trash bin- in the bedroom, in the study chamber, in the dining room. Fate smiles at me and gives me a hand. An address written untidily in a piece of thrown-away paper appears. It tells me to go to another country, where the trees are different, the grasses smell different, the people look different, but that is where my sun will rise. My plastic soldiers then tell me to stay still for they cannot help me. They are exhausted and decide to betray me. I am on my own in my quest for my life back. Weaponless, helpless and solitary, I weep my hot tears of regret. My new found wealth turns into sand in this desert. I am denied my water. I am denied my shelter from storms. I know that the weary spirit cannot withstand fate but it can decide on what it will do with what is left. Lacking water, I will find and dig a well. Lacking a shelter, I will gather woods and stones to build one. My soldiers contemptuously look at my effort. They deem it unbecoming to their stations. So I much gladly say farewell to them, fake friends. I come inside the house which now belongs to a stranger and start to call my friends- from high school, college, university, to long-lost ones. I tell them that I miss them, sincerely and joyfully. Then, I call my parents to tell I love them.