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Friday, March 15, 2019

Survival Story *not Really A Research Paper Its A Creative Story*

This isnt happening. Things like this dont happen to commonwealth like me. I sit on a log and interpret up at the canopy of trees hovering over me. I glance around, see only other confused faces glance at me. Its simmer down. The loudest quiet Ive ever heard. My head floods with thought and I close my eyes, thrust rachis frantic images. I inhale my surroundings, trying desperately to specify sense of the silent riot occurring all around me. My attention is raddled to a noise. My eyes wander, searching for the source. It sounds like the cry of a sharp animal it sounds as well as familiar to be dangerous. It becomes louder and I recognize the ingenuous scream. I rise from the dead stump and hurry towards the sound. It has stopped unless still it echoes in my mind. A bright whiteness washes over me and I find myself sitting uncomfortably in my adjustable seat. A composition sits in my lap hardly Im too impetuous to notice. Some trimg is wrong, I can sense it. My ears perk up at an obnoxious noise. It sounds like the cry of a small animal. Aside from my aisle is an infant. A smile runs across my face, hiding my fear. My feet strike the ground, launching me faster headspring for the sound. Finally I reach it, almost wishing I hadnt. here(predicate) lies a mother, child in hand and a red rate of flow flowing down her lifeless face. The bundle in her arms screams again, snapping me tail end into reality. Taking the infant in my arms, I silently pray for our survival. I retreat to the small clearing to find the same glances staring back at me. I take a glimpse, surveying the scattered items move on the earthy floor. I see a small prototypic aid kit lying open by a sapling. It is waste except for a roll of white gauze. I take it in my hands, swiftly wrapping it around the small child and hoping the warmth of the thin fabric will turn purple lips back to a respectable hue. I hold the newborn to my chest and wrap it further in my own clothes. Well n ever make it. A nameless voice utters, penetrating the silence. I glance up and gl be at the thought. Its too iciness, we have no supplies. Well never make it. He repeats.Ignoring the obvious law I recall the items I carried with me on the flight. Things useless every day, but now could determine life or death. A small liberation knif... ...ght, illuminating her round face with the artificial glow. Pulling the bottle reveal of my coat pocket, I curl my fingers around the cap and rotate it. With a few turns the cap falls into my palm. I put the rim to Olivias small lips and slowly tilt the bottle, allowing her to sip the warm milk. Suddenly, I was get together by the woman. There she was again, her face lit up with the glow of the fire. Her viewer almost made me forget everything that was happening. She has a devilish grin on her face and her eyes twinkled in delight. After that dinner Im sure everyone would prefer something sweeter.My expression turns to confusion. What do y ou mean? I ask. under her coat she holds a box. I cant think of what it is until I read the label. Hersheys? I ask with a smile on my face. Where did you find these?I was going to save them for myself, she explains, but there are enough to share. Her smile was warm enough to allow me to forget the cold weather. I become distracted by Olivias quiet gurgling. flavor into her deep brown eyes I find the hope to survive.

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