“ Drip, drip, drip” I can't see anything, it's dark and cold. It's wet and smells moldy. I don't know what will happen in the next few hours, days, or months to come. They might kill me, but I have no idea. I'm trying to stay optimistic, keep on my brave face. I don't speak their language well, but I get the gist of things. Their tone seems angry. “Click” “ Is that a lock? I'm not ready for this! What do I do? Do I cooperate, or make a run for it?” I am making myself mad. Someone says my name in a raspy voice, “Leif Christopher Armstrong.” The bright, pink sun shines through the cracked stone door, so I know it's sometime around sunset. I cover my eyes with my arm. When my eyes adjust I will be face to face with the one who will control …show more content…
my future. I’m afraid my future looks pretty bleak. I regret every decision that I have made all leading up to the big one. My decision to climb the rock. The Climb I stand with my hands on my hips looking up towards my goal.
The rock, is what they call it. No one knows what is behind the dense fog, since no one has returned to tell the tale. “ Well, I've got nothing to lose,” I say outloud to myself. My parents have both passed and my brother has been sent off to the juvenile detention center for attempted murder and burglary charges. He’s not someone to be proud of, then again neither am I. So I left. I figure if I don't make it back, oh well, no one actually cares. The world doesn't know who I am. No one knows who I am . So I grab my blue pack with my climbing gear, food and hunting supplies. I start my journey up the …show more content…
rock. …(time passes) My back muscles ache. I'm starving but there is nowhere to rest my pack to eat. The rock is almost smooth, no caves, or ledges, just plain black rock . Im currently stuck in the fog. It's a lot denser than it looks, very misleading. From afar it looks like a typical fog, but once you get inside it's a totally different story. It's so thick it feels like I’m climbing through a force field or something. I've never felt something so strange, that looks so ordinary . Am I Mad? I can't tell what time it is and my watch is going crazy. The dials are spinning uncontrollably, there must be some magnetic force around here. I can almost see the top of the cliff, but every time I move it only seems further and further away. My mind is spinning and I’m starting to see things . I think . My mind must playing tricks on me . “ Is that a monkey,” I say out loud, “ no it can't be, not at this altitude. Wait, am I talking to myself.“ I pause a minute. “ Yes, yes you are,” I reply. I’m sure I am going mad, it must be altitude sickness, though I've never heard of symptoms such as these. …. (more time passes) Finally, after 15 hours of straight climbing I reach the top. I curled my blistering fingers over the edge, and use every last ounce of my aching bones and sore muscles to pull myself up. I absolutely can't believe my eyes. A beautiful, colorful world. I can't even put it into words. Then black, and a throbbing pain, right as I was about to pass out, I could see a beautiful rainbow colored eye with dark long eyelashes, and blue skin. Then I fainted and fell into the fuzzy green grass? The Blue People, the Colorful World I feel warm and very comfortable, with the smell of cinnamon, or maybe nutmeg filling the air. It reminds me of home in Ireland, before the loss of my parents, before my kid brother went bonkers. I’m feeling so comfortable I naturally assumed I was home in bed. Maybe my overly “charming” roommate is cooking for his “girlfriend”. Groggily I sit up, my eyes still closed and ask “ What time is is?” Yet no reply. “Brad? What time is it?” I shout even louder. Still no reply. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and begin to open them one at a time and try to focus on the image in front of me. There sitting on a tall wooden stool is a medium sized humanoid creature. Its body was blue like a clean pond. Its long black hair intricately braided down its back. Staring at me with its beautiful rainbow eyes and petite face. It must be a woman. It was beautiful. Realization After my surrounding registered and I realized I wasn’t home I shouted, “Hey!” This caused us both to scream. Then more of them came rushing in, this freaked me out even more. I felt a sharp sting and noticed the “girl” had stabbed a needle in my neck. I instantly felt relaxed again and slumped into the warm cot where I was once resting. I closed my tired eyes. Sometime later I woke up with a surprise. The strange world was still there. Yet I wasn't in the warm room, in the warm cot, with the beautiful creature. I was naked in the middle of a field of bright green grass and black flowers, alone. As I tried to move from my spot I noticed I had been tied up in a soft purple rope like object. I tried to sit up and free myself. I thought I might be able to rub up against a tree maybe, or find a sharp rock to free myself. Yet, every time I would move they would seem to get tighter and tighter. Then I realized this “rope” has eyes. Of course, they have eyes, they appear to be snakes. With the luck I’ve had lately they wouldn’t be anything else. They appear to be weird fuzzy snakes that want to strangle me to death. I see a stream and see hope. If I can just get myself to the water, maybe I can drown these things. I can't move. I’m afraid I will die! The water is only a few meters away. I convince myself to leap and sprint for the water. With each stride comes a stabbing pain, the snakes squeeze harder and harder. As I'm nearly suffocated, I find the strength to jump into the cold pink river with orange rocks. I struggle through each breath, the hold the snakes have on me is intense. The plan worked eventually they release. As they swam away they transformed into an even more grotesque snake creature, losing their soft purple appearance. Why is this happening? Then I noticed the water coming from the north turning brown and raging towards me. I hopped out of the water and ran. I ran hard, and I ran fast. Slowing my pace I eventually stop to rest. I stood watching as the once beautiful field turned a dull brownish grey and the sky faded to white. All the color seemed to drained. Alarmed I briskly walked up toward the top of a hill. I began to notice with every step I took the grass beneath my feet would turn brown and shrivel. As the hill started inclining I became more and more tired. I sat down and took a break. As I rested I replayed all the events that had happened in the past few days...hours...minutes? I have no idea what is going on. I have absolutely no sense of time. Someone or something took my clothes, and left me bare in the middle of nowhere, unaware of where I am or what to do. No food, no shelter, no company. I sat there and just cried.I cried for the first time in a long time, emotions running wild, I began to think. I evaluated my life up to this point, my mistakes, and the pain I have caused others. I lay there under the white sky, vulnerable and afraid. Scared of what will come. I do have a small glimmer of hope. I am hopeful I will find shelter, food and company, but when? …(time passes) The Village “grrrrrrrrrrrr” is the sound I awake to. Startled at the thought of a wild beast ready to devour me, I shoot straight up. After another growl sound I realize it is the sound of my own stomach. I am still tired and very hungry. I am still alone in the barren wasteland, that I had fallen asleep to. I must start my trek to find food, starvation is a near reality. I start walking up the steep hill. Step by step I find that I turn the once beautiful world into an ugly one. My touch is like poison. This is a sign that I don't belong here. This bizarre world isn't meant for me. I am tainted and am ruining the land. As I reach the top of the hill I can see a trail of smoke coming from what looks like a small village. It is not far, maybe a day trek. I know I have no choice. My survival depends on it, I must go. …(more time passes) I find I have been walking for 16 days.
No food and only small bits of water from streams and dirty puddles. I am struggling with every movement, surviving is all I can think about. I find that I have resorted to crawling. My stomach is caved in and my pelvis bone is showing. My spine is protruding from my back. Blisters cover my hands and knees, from crawling on the rough rock. I am a sight. A few nights ago I was attacked by a wild pack of dog-like creatures that came in the night, snarling and growling, with their sharp, yellow teeth. They prayed on me like food. I am weak and barely fought them off. The worse part is there is a trail of ugliness behind me. My poison is spreading, I am a
disease. As I slowly approach the small village, I can make out the huts and the people. The huts are relatively small, made out of a soft, grey material, which looks like fur of the beasts from nearby woods. The people look quite familiar. Why? I remember, they are from the warm room. The blue girl with the rainbow eyes. These are her people. I use every last ounce of strength I have and stand so they could see me. I yelled “HELP!!” as loud as my tired lungs can. I have nothing to lose I will die here either way. This is my only hope. A large male creature comes running toward me. He has a scared, and angry look on his face . The closer he got the look of fear turned to rage. He attacked. The abuse was short but mighty. I couldn't fight back. I was weak and in pain. I put aside my manhood and started to cry. I was weak and vulnerable. The creature seemed startled and backed away. In an unfamiliar language he said something and a group of females helped me up and walked me to a hut. I was given a warm meal and supplied with clothing. They knew by my state I was of no threat to them. I didn't want to hurt them and they knew that. They helped nurse me to health.
The relationship you have with others often has a direct effect on the basis of your very own personal identity. In the essay "On The Rainy River," the author Tim O'Brien tells about his experiences and how his relationship with a single person had effected his life so dramatically. It is hard for anyone to rely fully on their own personal experiences when there are so many other people out there with different experiences of their own. Sometimes it take the experiences and knowledge of others to help you learn and build from them to help form your own personal identity. In the essay, O'Brien speaks about his experiences with a man by the name of Elroy Berdahl, the owner of the fishing lodge that O'Brien stays at while on how journey to find himself. The experiences O'Brien has while there helps him to open his mind and realize what his true personal identity was. It gives you a sense than our own personal identities are built on the relationships we have with others. There are many influence out there such as our family and friends. Sometimes even groups of people such as others of our nationality and religion have a space in building our personal identities.
Have you ever had the urge to go to an unknown adventure into the wilderness? A young man once did his name was Chris McCandless also known as Alex Supertramp he was a free spirited man who had this urge to go off on a life changing conquest. His journey to the Alaskan wilderness changed his life, his need to search for spiritual liberation caused him his life as well as harming his loved ones. Many people question the motives of why this miraculous young man with an extraordinary future ahead of him would take such risk to the rugged Alaskan wilderness. Although some would argue that McCandless’ actions were based off of his relationship with his dysfunctional family, however his real motives were influenced by the literary influences and
On April 26, 2003 Aron Ralston was hiking alone through Blue John Canyon, in eastern Wayne County, Utah, just south of the Horseshoe Canyon unit of Canyon lands National Park. When the unexpected happened where suddenly Aron’s life was on the line. Aron Ralston was an arrogant and independent adventurous. Ralston would do anything adventurous that didn’t involve family or someone helping him. He wouldn’t talk to any of his family. Ralston would ignore them because he thought they couldn’t help him. Also, he thought they would want someone to go with him in case of an emergency. After an hour or two of climbing mountains and hiking in the canyon Aron tried climbing down Blue John canyon. This canyon which only is three feet wide and seventy
Bill Bryson the author of the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods’ constructs the story in a certain way to try to get the reader to accept his attitudes and values about how dangerous and death defying Earl V. Shaffer and other’s are in attempting to travel the trail. He uses the techniques of emotive language, unusual language and use of first hand accounts in the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods‘ . The use of descriptive and humorous language, combined with conversational text has allowed Bryson to express his feelings and opinions on his and others experiences on the Appalachian Trail to the audience.
Now that I am inside and a little scared, I started to think this was a bad idea. All I see are bald trees and it's extremely hot. I start walking toward the bright light I can see from a far distance. while i was walking I felt like something was following me, I turned around and there are five zombies following me. I start running as they gain on me. I have no weapons and no water. I continue running and see a dead man's body holding a knife, so I grab the knife and immediately turn around. They are getting closer so, I ran to the nearest one and go straight for
It was our fifth day in the Philmont Scout Reservation in New Mexico, the halfway point of the trek. I as the Crew Leader was responsible for the other 11 members of the crew, including 4 adults. I was in charge, and amazingly the adults rarely tried to take over, although they would strongly advise me what to do in some situations. Phil, with the exception of me, the oldest scout and the Chaplain for the trip, was my second. Together we dealt with problems of making sure everyone carried the right amount of stuff in their pack to who had to cook and cleanup each day. The trip had gone well so far, no injuries, and the worst problem had been a faulty backpack. As I walked I thought about the upcoming campsite. Supposedly this one had running water from a solar powered pump—so had the last night’s site but the tank was too low to use for anything but cooking because the of how cloudy it had been of late. But today was bright and shinny, and hot, so I didn’t think there would be a problem.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I don't know here to go. I can't believe I am lost in the forest that the serial killers met. Trying to have ATM signal, I can only pray and hope it work .The cold weather and the darkness is killing me. Right now all that I wish for is to go home and to be around people that makes me feel safe and protect. Never experiencing this before, I do not know what to expect. I have to maintain myself calm, but the worst thoughts do not leave my head. My mouth is dry and my heart racing because I heard steps coming on my direction. Right now my eyes are full of tears and my soul is overwhelmed. Waking to the tree, I hope to find a place to hide; However I now that I will not be safe. I see a men, my eyes are freeze, I am
then pushed myself up the hill, to the nearest ski lift. My older brother, Tyler, had already gone ahead of me, so I was even more rushed. I entered the line and made sure that I had my ID card dangling over my neck. After the staff scanned my card, I sat on the ski lift and got ready for a 20 minute long trip up the mountain. I could see my brother almost ten ski lifts ahead, and I tried calling him. I could tell that the man I was sharing the ski lift with was getting a little annoyed with my loudness, so after a while I sat still and kept my mouth shut. I shivered. The snow was falling as hard as ever. I decided that after skiing down Olympic Trail, I would go back to the lodge and drink
At the tender age of 23 years, I packed up everything owned that I had in my bedroom and stored in my mom’s garage and followed the then, love of my life to Memphis, Tennessee. Everyone in my family thought I was crazy. How could I leave Southern California, where I had been born and raised, to go to Memphis, Tennessee? A place at the time only known by my family and associates for its famous landmark, Graceland, and its infamous owner Elvis. I remember some of the well wishes and words of my mom and aunt, who each pulled me aside at one point and another to tell me, “No matter what happens, you can always come home.” I felt like the prodigal daughter. But it didn’t impede my tracks. I got in the car the
I?m on the step to soaking in the ground and I?m draining in the ground. I?m waiting to get cleaned all of a sudden a worm comes and eat me. I guest the worm didn?t see me there so I bang on his yelling ?Hey you umm wormy can I get out of here pl-ease?
I’ve spent awhile trying to figure out where I’m going and the only thing I’ve realize is it doesn’t matter, it’s how I get there. I’ve been strolling the area and scraping for food. It’s not easy. My surrounding does not feel the same. I try to overcome boundaries but I always think something’s holding me back. Maybe it’s me or the fact that outside is like the walking dead. I feel like a living corpse, I’ve been around them so long! I think I’m paranoid. I wish that all my problems would vanish, but all my effects seem to be futile. I am wasting energy thinking I’m okay. I feel like I’m suffering ng from the lack of food. I can’t maintain my sanity. The little time gain from escaping those zombies has offset the anger which I have been holding
My eyes open. Still, I feel my heart rate swelling. My parents are dead, but my brother and sister are still with me. I take a glimpse at my sister. She never slept. I don’t blame her, despite the fact that both my parents frayed away right in front her eyes. My brother remained tranquil the entire time leading us to safety, to where we are now. Kayo is the oldest. He’s always been in charge to take care of us when my parents were continuously gone. Right now, the three of us are alone in a pit, it’s quiet, no sign of the opponent. Those people out there are cracked, insane. What do they want?
You might think of rain as nothing other than rain. Rain is much more important than little raindrops falling out of the sky. In some countries that only get a few inches of rain a year, rain is worshiped like a god. I know from experience that people aren’t big fans of the rain, but for me the rain is very important. Also, the rain is something that you should enjoy and be thankful for, and it is definitely something that you shouldn’t hate. If you’re in a place like California where it doesn’t rain a lot, I instantly feel this small surge of joy or happiness. And when it does rain I feel that we should be thankful for it. I also feel like the rain is sort of the beginning or the start of a lot of things. If there was just this one little farm that supplied a small city of people with meat and vegetables, the farm would probably rely on a tank filled with rain water used to provide the crops with water to grow. If this wasn’t possible, then there wouldn’t be any water for crops, and there wouldn’t be any crops to feed the small city and then there wouldn’t be a lot of healthy people because people would need to rely on processed foods.
The worst day of my life began innocently enough with my small group of friends preparing to explore a cave. Each month the four of us, I, Jill, John, and Ted, would choose two or three caves and spend our weekends engrossed in exploring them. Today’s cave was a special one; it afforded just a small window of opportunity for exploration because it flooded completely with each high tide. As we checked our packs and made sure all our spelunking and survival gear was in order, a rather jovial, but sizable, fellow by the name of Scott Porker happened by and asked if he could join our group. We agreed, as we were always happy to be in the company of a kindred spirit, and since the tide had just gone out we began our descent into the cave.