Childhood memory descriptive piece
Every fortnight I was faced with the taunting experience of retrieving the eggs and every fortnight the task became more and more daring. Each morning at Nonis (grandmother) house a war between the chickens and I emerged from the normally silent yard, a war that separated all good from the world and emphasized death, destruction and danger. Every morning at Nonis house the boy that I was turned into a manly structure, ready for battle. The sun beamed through the old wooden shutters as the light splashed across his dormant eyes, beckoning him to awaken and absorb the early morning warmth. Each ray of light produced a comforting sensation persuading the boy to emerge from his overnight coma and venture out beneath the newborn sun.The warmth soon turned to a chill as a noise from the far corner of the backyard seized everything that was pleasant. The chicken sounds were calling him, reminding him of his duty.....tempting him. Awakening very slowly the boy began to prepare himself for battle, just the way his grandfather had told of his experiences. The boy began to prepare himself both physically and mentall, knowing that one mistake could be the difference between failure and success. The young boy was ready and the beast t
I could not breathe nor move and even in this stagmented state I was beginning to tremble and sweat, my heart beating helplessly. hat lived inside of him was to be exposed to a morning of frightful duties. He marched with enormous confidence until he reached the large back door that was the gateway to either treasures or torment. He had all senses alert and functioning, ready for any enemy attack from the large, distrustful chickens. Slowly and quietly he maneuvered his way around the shed, carefully he did not to make any sudden movements or sounds so as to alert the enemy. The dark surroundings were lightened by the luminous light which the object possessed. Calmly, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the weapon to victory, a fully systematic super soaker two hundred ready to end this war of wars. My cold hands were soon created into warm pads of delicacy by the inner scorch that the treasure pulsated. The vines did not appreciate his presence and every meter he gained a new gash tore open the bare skin on his legs. There wasn't into the fortress and this small dilemma began to be extremely costly time-wise. The young boy was now the beast and the beast was the young boy and with the two minds combined a war was about to begin. Due to this loss in time my enemy slowly began to gain advantage over me and I knew that I had to act quickly in order to save my mission. The enemy lay helplessly on the floor pleading for its life.
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