wittywriter1
Tall dark walls stood above me, cutting off my view from the sky. I gripped my spear in my hand and threw it up and into the wind. This is how it begins.
The teacher stared at me. I was alone as I stood above the rest of the class. I gazed at the teacher, pure fury filling my eyes, which began to spill over with heavy drops of tears. Some of the students in the class began to laugh at me. I closed my eyes and gently rocked myself backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.
I searched through the rocks, my soft feet scraping against hard barnacles. I could just about see the soft, glistening lines of quartz lazily lining the stone.
I began to sprint. I could see the finish line in the distance. 'This was it' I thought. My legs ached and I felt dehydrated and worthless. I willed my legs to carry me faster. I was coming second, and I could come first. If only I could move my legs FASTER.
Tradition can apply to anyone, and be anywhere. I have happened upon many a tradition that I did not understand, and I assume that you will too.
There were many traditions that the family lived by. You would not have known that this family had these traditions simply by looking at them, and the traditions in particular were very peculiar. If you were, say, to visit them, you would be stunned by what may arise which they called 'tradition'.
My veins boiled with mounting fury. How could they do this? They had no right. My head ached with my anger. I didn't know what I should do.