Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. As Angela walked over to this mysterious boy that she had been watching for a couple of weeks now here heart pounded like an African drum to the beat of a war song. The boy’s hair sat there flawlessly his hair short and black as the starry night. His eyes were like flames dance around his brain thinking, waiting, wondering.
As Angela brushed her hair out of her eyes she peered over his shoulder. The boy was repeating why, why, why, why me. I asked him if he was ok. He peered over his shoulder and said I am mourning my fathers death he has kicked the bucket. I did not know him that well but as I saw a tear roll down his cold white cheek Angela could not help it to start crying.
As Angela brushed her hair out of her eyes she peered over his shoulder. The boy was repeating why, why, why, why me. I asked him if he was ok. He peered over his shoulder and said I am mourning my fathers death he has kicked the bucket. I did not know him that well but as I saw a tear roll down his cold white cheek Angela could not help it to start crying.
The first paragraph is really descriptive and you used a lot of great metaphors and similes
ReplyDeleteI like how you used the "heart pounded like an African drum to the beat of a war song" It paints a picture in my mind. good job
ReplyDeleteawww what a sad story:( you really gave a clear picture of everything:)
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