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The Last Scene

As the eye of the blue sky rose in its golden complexion and pierced through a gap between dried bamboo walls, my sleepy eyes were forced to open because I had to wake up for school. I put on my dark blue bag over my shoulder and got ready to march towards my school. By the time I positioned my little pattering feet into my rubber slippers, I could hear the rumbling clouds—darkening the bright glamour of the sun, and feel the gentle wind replacing the old air. The sky cried aloud with its heavy tears running down on the earth. I unfolded a pink umbrella of my size and stepped out of my warm house. I started my daily walk to my school through the woods on the muddy earth but was scared of slipping down the creamy-chocolate hill rose above the ground. I used all my energy gotten out of a bowl of rice, potato curry, and butter tea to challenge a normal walk with my muddy-heeled slippers through long green grasses. I climbed a hill where my school, hidden in the woods, was located.

With one hand holding the umbrella and the other holding up my green uniform, I scrambled to be on time for our daily morning assembly. As I stepped up front, my feet failed to move forward; they slipped repeatedly. It was raining, but beads of sweat were dripping down over my forehead as if I was working in a field. A drop of sweat entered my mouth and tasted salty.

Although it was a troublesome walk, the atmosphere was very fresh. Droplets of rain erased the thirst of the giant woods, thin blade grasses, and dwarf bushes. Everything seemed green and natural and it looked as if it would never fade. The clean, fresh air that entered my nostrils replaced my old breath and took away my tiredness. I wanted to stay longer to enjoy dews drooling from the green and fresh leaves, which hit the passerby, and see the smoky clouds dancing around me but I had to rush to my school. I moved forward, holding myself from slipping on the ground. When I reached my school, I raised my umbrella and turned back my head to savor the last sight of the beauty, wondering if there will be the same atmosphere in the future. The beauty doesn’t remain the same every time.

      • South and Central Asia
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