English Writing with Detail
My pace slowed as I neared the door.
I twitched nervously as I heard the tapping of fingers and clicks of pens as
their actions are eerily calm. They were obviously prepared, unlike me and they
knew it too as soon as they looked at me like it was carved on my face. With all
curtains closed the room was dark and dreadful except for the few bright faces
of the cheerful and eager fellow students. It was like the room despised me it
seemed to know my fate and it just laughs rubbing it in my face. I sit down in
my seat and glance towards the clock. Just five minutes until my
fate. Regret seems to have seeped in as I wish every minute I’ve spent watching
movies and playing games that I was in class like I was supposed to. I look at
the clock three minutes now. With every tick of the clock
the room seems to grow a bit smaller. I begin to pray to every single deity I have
ever heard of for a miracle. Any miracle would do all paper vanishing from the
earth, pens and pencils suddenly disappearing, But most of all I wish I could
go back and tell myself to go to class anything to get rid of this horrid
feeling. One minute left. Too late now
By Jordon powell
