In March 2020, I took the last exam of my high school life, and somehow, the thing I was most excited to do was get rid of all of the excess notebooks, textbooks, and assignments that had flooded my bedroom for the past 4 years.
Something I couldn’t bring myself to throw away were my old English notebooks. I look at journals and old writing as sort of a time capsule; an opportunity to look back at who you were when you wrote it.
I’ve decided to share a few of my favourite writings from my English classes- because let’s be honest- what else am I going to do with them?
English was one of my favourite subjects in school, because it required no previous knowledge of what happened in classes before- all I needed was a pen and an imagination (The rest of this blog won’t be this sappy- I promise).
Of course it got frustrating sometimes. It’s often said that if a writer says that the sky was blue, it reflects the inner turmoil and despair that the writer was experiencing during that particular period of his life.
Fun Fact: We were given a day to write this, and now that I look back it seems absolutely ridiculous; but I actually started crying while trying to write this essay. I didn’t want to fail an assignment just because I couldn’t write 600 words describing a dessert.
Sand, Heat, Camels- 597 words to go.
Sometimes the sky is simply just blue.
“The Desert”
The brutal ruler of this fiery underworld laughs maniacally as he admires the dungeon he so carefully constructed. His bloody, volcanic trail of heat ensures his dominance over the inhabitants of the kingdom. Even the angelic, white clouds desperately plot their escape from their master’s steaming shackles.
This land is absolutely drained of all life. The bleak, sickly, light-brown tint of the dry soil indicates its refusal to inhabit any sort of existence. The king’s enforcers; large serpentine reptiles, slither through the kingdom , preying on all the poor subjects that manage to survive the intense, scorching heat. Camels spend their lives simply truing to alleviate the pain and dehydration that the kingdom prescribes. Their droopy eyelids and strategically placed double eyelids do almost nothing to protect them from the kingdom’s torture tactics. The only vegetation visible; a being just as vicious as its ecosystem. Swords in hand, always ready to attack. Thick green skin, carefully engineered to cling on to the few measly drops of water so kindly bestowed upon them by their ruler.
The wind swims around the land, spreading the death-inducing heat; screaming her message from the monarchy. She cackles loud enough to torture any ear daring enough to listen. She blows a tornado of sand through the air, blinding any man or animal that questions the king’s prominence. Her anger slowly intensifies; so much so that one can almost hear their flesh sizzle. However, after a while, even she seems to be thirsty. Even she cannot survive for long in this barren wasteland.
In the distance, an unlikely saviour appears. A few distant water droplets arrive, seemingly to alleviate the suffering inflicted on this land. A myriad of colours and rainbows accompany them; in the background, an orchestra serenades this unexpected hero. However, as one follows this soothing tune, this “saviour” reveals itself. He sings the melodious song of deception. Simply a hallucination.
After what seems like an eternity in hell, time slowly passes. Time passes as if on a calm walk through a rosy garden, while all living beings scream for mercy. With every passing tick, one’s sanity slowly fades away. As the king leaves his throne, the ice queen appears. The flaming, scarlet sky now manifests into a cruel, wicked black. The fiery kingdom morphs into a frosty, snowy, unforgiving predator.
Once again, the wind appears, although this time, singing a different song. She seems angrier, somehow even more despicable than before. So chilling, that one almost prays for the intense flesh-burning sensation felt before sunset. So bitter, that the volcanic heat seems like a blessing.
The wildlife would cry, if they were hydrated enough to formulate tears. Slowly but surely, the king begins to rise from the ashes of the fire he created. The wind, serpents, sand and vegetation all awake to the same scorching heat they had to endure just a few hours before. Doomed, destined to live a life of endless torture, a circle of misery.
Somehow, they manage to call this prison home.
If you’ve managed to read all the way down to here- thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to see a Part 2!
Until Next Time.
theconfessionsofarandomblogger.com 
Beautifully written!
LikeLike