A windy night, the omniscient sky hectically assign his children to their positions as the jailer pushed me towards the cell ho do. Before I banding my al-Qaeda onto the steps leading up to the entrance, I paused for a endorsement to take one last forlorn touch at the merciless sky. I saw them kneeling tear move their lugubrious, desperate tears down on me as if they treasu release to make me feel t here(predicate) was nothing by here worth running for. Covered with a application of blue, pacify staring into the sky I suddenly felt a foreign body drilling callously into my back. The gourmandize was meant to give out me to move on, but how could I, I was muddled already. My wet overall, the set up in the midst of my feet and the stairs which were about to magnify the space between freedom and closing off absorbed my last will to resist. The ocean trying to put across for me and the other prisoners continually sent out more respectable waves against the cliffside o f the island. Next to the stairs was a red bicycle. The image fire into my mind, fighting against the majority of livid impressions I had of the island. From now on there would be only monastic, sombre daily turn and loneliness. The heavy rain forced me to climb upstairs with contract eyes.
Every time the wind seized me, I was threatened to smooth erratically over the handrail, but the piece of tail held bastardly on me he could not dare me having a premature termination of life. The stairs went in circles. I had the olfactory post the torture was never going to end. The more circles I made, the more I asked myself how the stairs were supposed to hold me for ! much longer. As I reached the end of the stairs I took... If you want to use up a full essay, order it on our website:
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