Q – Describe a peaceful place. By Shamel Mujtaba

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Q. Describe a peaceful place.

Ans. The blades of the grassy meadow were softer than the finest silk. The singing of young birds was so well orchestrated that they may have been led by the professional ear of the greatest conductor. The wind breeze provided a cool and relaxing feel as it kissed your cheeks. The trees rustled gently in this very breeze, and the long, green grass formed a slow, melodic wave as it carried the wind, gently touching and tickling your body as you lay in the heavenly bed. The sun shone down upon you, with the exact brightness and warmth it should have. The scene was so incredibly serene and peaceful it could not be real – such a place was the perfect example of a peaceful scene that existed in everyone’s mind.

But, what you call peaceful I call boring.

A peaceful place like the one above would allow your mind to flow freely, and hence fall prey to all the stresses and worries of today. And if your mind is not at peace how could you be?

You need something to keep you busy.

Something with more than one colour.

Something that requires utmost participation of the mind, yet not enough to make it a burden.

Fortunately for you, I have just the thing.

Let me show you.

I held my large and foreboding heavy assault rifle in my hands, and yet – I did not feel worry for myself despite its warning of what was to come next.

It’s a feeling I simply cannot explain.

Interrupting my moment with the rifle, a horrifyingly huge alien foe landed in front of me. He held a large gun – the one and only grenade-launcher. This was no ordinary grenade launcher. I boasted a thick and thirsty curved blade at its rear, specially made foe slicing and dicing an unlucky enemy.  The horrible brute of an enemy stared right into my soul with piercing yellow eyes and murderous intent. I could hear him smacking his leathery lips as he dreamt of the taste of my feeble human flesh in his toothed-chasm of a mouth as the long white hair on his reptilian skin stood erect as his adrenaline flowed through his muscle. He was ready to pounce and tear me to shreds.

But for some reason I did not feel scared. For some reason I was looking forward to his attack, because was ready for him.

He charged at me, bending down so as to hit me headfirst. Considering his boulder of a head this would have been very painful. But I was too good for him. I shrugged and confidently leapt to the side as he charged past me and formed a crater in the opposite wall with a bang. I raised my trusty helper and shouted, “Say hello to my little friend!” and let it rip. The loud, repetitive ‘ratatatatat’ of the rifle was one of the most soothing melodies I have ever heard.

He halted – and the mammoth opponent started shaking as if he were a rag doll with a vibrator inside of him. His torso violently shook side-to-side and his limp arms followed in suit – wagging faster than the tail of an exited puppy. His head rolled and spun and jerked here and there, like he was a teeny-tiny Einstein-bobblehead on the dashboard of a helicopter that was spiraling out of control. His jaw opened and wobbled unnaturally, allowing his surprisingly long tongue to fly out and slap both of his cheeks in turns. His legs merely vibrated in their places, no more active than the atoms of the hardest solid.

His dance must have been the most comical thing I have ever seen.

Finally – the never ending 64 bullet clip on my rifle ended. The award winning dance ended and he stopped wobbling. He just stood there, tongue hanging out of his incredibly wide open mouth. His shoulders dropped and his eyes rolled to the top of his head. His head slowly bent

Downwards and he dropped to his knees with a bang – then fell on his belly with a louder bang. Interestingly, drool still dripped from his mouth despite being dead. Was this because his forked tongue still stuck out a record-breaking 5-inches?

Ignoring that mystery I calmly betrayed my assault rifle for his mean, bladed grenade-launcher. I held it like a flamethrower and departed as if I had just finished a Yoga or Tai-Chi session. I strolled to a large nearby metal door. It looked like it was embedded into the hundred-meter thick concrete wall it pierced. A small crushed and sparking control panel uselessly laid into the wall besides it – Its guts spilt all over the floor. Exposed wires cracked and hissed like undead witches, convinced that I had no way across without aiding them first. Their taunts were just as significant as a flea breathing.

“Hmm…”

No point in wasting brain cells here.

Taking advantage of the super cool and nearly indestructible sky-blue combat armor I wore, I simply kicked it open. The feeble toothpick of the door flew open with a characteristic metal-to-metal clang. It tore parts of the wall besides it, creating a mystical off-whit fog. It landed and wobbled like a fifty-cent coin.

The wires immediately stopped crackling in shock.

I leapt forward out of the ghost mist and proclaimed, “Here’s Johnny!”

Cute little alien foes jumped in shock as I appeared. They appeared to be wearing futuristic glowing gas-masks, with little light slits in the eye region. Their arms were too long for their tiny inverted-cone bodies. Their hands had large gloves that made them bigger than their oval heads. Their tiny brown frog-legs were barely able to support their disproportionate body. To top all this they wore an incredibly large, unimaginative cone-shaped backpack that somehow did not set them off-balance.

The difference between them and my previous foe was that these pigeons were terrified of the spinx cat that stood before them. I was going to exploit their fear like a professional businessman.

“Boo.”

They immediately jumped and ran faster than the hyper-active particles of a gas, screaming and crying on the floor like new-borns. They bounced off walls and each other in perfect projectile motion. I sighed. Turning on, “The Voices of Spring Waltz.” In my helmet, I sent them flying in every direction in spot-on harmony with the music.

And to me, where their limp, confused bodies formed trails of fire as they bounced around like over-cooked popcorn while screaming like hundreds of whistling tea-pots – was indeed a very peaceful place.

I love my Xbox.

About froebelianwriters

I am an English Language teacher teaching O'Levels Edexcel and CIE A Levels at Froebel's International School, Islamabad. I am also working as a Subject Specialist Literacy consultant for the same school. Writing and reading has always been a passion and I try my utmost to instill these habits and hobbies in my students as well. I can be reached/contacted at fabbas227@hotmail.com or 03365287335 Happy reading!

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