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Descriptive: A moment of utmost happiness by Abdullah Chatta

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I sat in my sea, both legs clenched, my teeth stomping with one another, and each of my hair strands spiking up from my skin. Each of my sweat glands had reacted to my highly strung state of mind, as they continued to secrete surplus amounts of sweat. I could feel my body go numb as the sweat droplets crawled down my cheeks; that’s when I heard the words, “Te award goes to Abdullah Chattha!” I exhaled breaths of relief, as if I was a gazelle who successfully outmaneuvered a troop of lions. The echoes of the cheering and claps resonated throughout the hundred feet tall auditorium.

My legs and arms still vibrating, I placed all my weight on my feet, as I stood up, and felt that I had entered the utopia that I desired for the past three packed, busy and intense days of the competition. As I made my way down the carpeted staircase, I was brainstorming what I had to say upon reaching the stage. Still recovering from the euphoric shock, I slithered up the stage to collect my first ever trophy. Looking at the glistening trophy which possessed a smooth, and glassy, white surface made my heart pump faster than it already was. I was finally receiving the fruits of my labor. As I collected my award, I returned to my seat to further examine the specimen I held in my hands. The jagged endings, reflective surface, and the four by four base I held in my hands was something I poured every ounce of hard work into.

Indulged in joyness, my brain refused to divert its attention to anything else. The feeling of utmost, after hold on to it, there’s nothings to make you take your grasp off it.  I felt like a toddler who refused to let go of his most precious toy. The euphoria and the alacrity I displayed to receive the award was similar to the toddler analogy. The adrenaline rush I experienced, which allowed me to feel the blood rushing till the tips of my fingers, had finally come to a halt. This too was the time when I had finally confirmed that I was not living within a false consciousness. Words can still not define the complex thought processes that floated within my brain as I stood at the pinnacle of my happiest moments. I let my happiness consume me and all my senses that had been heightened to the anxiety I encountered earlier were returning back to their habitual state.

The memory of me standing in front of five hundred formally dressed and culturally diverse delegates to receive one of my most coveted items, still plays in my head in the form of a tape recording. My breathless self being told to calm down by the chief guest of the event, the camera flashes being reflected of the retina of my eyes, or even the loud applauds that blanketed me are part of the jovial moment I experienced. Although there were some things, I did during this time period that I’m not overly fond of, all in all it was an unforgettable moment of utmost happiness.

Descriptive: Question: Describe your favorite place, real or imaginary. By Alina Ahmed

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I turned the knob of the door; it squeaked open and I stepped through into paradise. The room was large enough to fit at least two adult elephants. There were thousands of shelfs scattered throughout the space and though they were inanimate objects, something about the way these dark chocolate colored, wooden pieces of furniture stood reflected the bold stance of a saluting soldier. The different scripts of knowledge rested on their hosts, creating rows of colors, bleeding and blending into one another.

As I shuffled forward, the wooden, terracotta floor boards creaked beneath my feet. Golden sunlight streaked in through the huge, glass windows that made up the wall, parallel to the door. The room, suddenly, seemed to be bathing in the pouring rays of honey sunshine as though the break in silence had breathed the place alive.

The stench of turpentine oil, saw dust, old paper and ink exploded into my nose, triggering a strange nostalgia. They came from the beautiful paintings, piercing into the soul, that hung on all the peachish- beige walls.

I climbed the staircase to the upper portion, running my hand, slowly, across the ice cold railing. The sounds of singing birds flooded into the room overpowering the echo of my drifting feet. The coffee mug I held filled warmth throughout my skin.

I looked up at the painting on the ceiling of the creation of Adam by Michael Angelo. This was one of the major reasons I loved this place. The bright and dull colors contrasting and complimenting one another was an unworldly sight. It was made with such inhumane beauty, it sent shivers down my back.

This was my favorite place. The library. My childhood.my memories, my everything was created here. It was all I knew.

Descriptive: Q) Describe your favourite place. This may be a real or imaginary location. By Aaizah Tahir

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A) I sat on the single stair with my bare feet in the soft, lush grasss. It looked as if someone had spilled a vividly, mossy green paint onto the ground. The coolness of the foliage spread under the soles of my caloused feet, tingling. It spread a wave of serene calmness over me. The silent chirping of the small creatures of the night, and the tiny, yet bright fireflies dancing around me looking like brightly burning stars, washed over me like a hurricane, drowning away my persistant and nagging thoughts.

I looked up and saw what appeared to be a navy blue, almost black blanket sprawled over, dusted with tiny specks of dust and fire, shining and twinkling constantly as if in chaos; it was as if they were ready to combust any moment. Millions of constellations were spread out over the vast night sky, as clear as day. A white bullet had punctured the gorgeous canvas above and had made its home, illuminating everything in its reach.

A wide-eyed owl was perched in the woody branch of the looming tree on my right. It stayed hidden, camouflaging into the tree with its chocolate brown feathers, except for its big, round eyes watching me calmly. It observed my every move. It gave off an eerie aura. My concrete grey and white husky lay by my exhausted legs. It looked at peace as if it wanted to stay there forever. Its big pointy ears were relaxed and turned slightly downwards with its eyes, a dull blue looking like wet-pavement at the time, on the swing nearby.

I suddenly got up and sat on the swing; the white paint of it chipped off by frequent use, revealing a rusted, bronze metal underneath. I swung lightly humming along the soft breeze which ruffled up my long, blood-red hair.

I stared at the white-picket fence across me. It was immensely tall, blocking my view from the outside as if protecting me.

In this moment I was calm and relaxed. It set up a serene atmosphere. My backyard was my favourite place in the entire world. It was my enclosed place where I forgot about all my worries. It was my safe haven.

 

 

Narrative: The Prize by Umer Alee

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Years of planning had gone down.Months of training and numerous lessons.All of it , was about to be paid off.

“So when do we go in?,” asked number three,in an overly excited tone.
“You’ll know soon enough”, I replied with a devious grin.
My plan was perfect.Every outcome accounted for.Every scenario, played in my mind numerous times.Nothing could go wrong!
“Sober up everyone,we going tomorrow.” I inform the crew.
Everything was set up, all the gear packed, the crew pumped up.I stood proud,in front of the brilliant team of murders I had assembled and trained for a long time.
This was probably the last time I would see them if things went sideways; It was like a mother watching her child for college.
The crew: over briefed,over prepared,over excited,were ready to set out.
“Any last advice?,”number four joked around.
“Eye….on….the prize,” I replied in an overly dramatic tone.
My eight brilliant criminals had set out, as I stayed behind to monitor things from the outside. Alas,they were ready to rob the “National Gold Reserves of Italy”.
Everything was perfect.They had broken into the building and had taken everyone hostage as told so. It was transitioning so smoothly that at one point, even I was not sure how.
Ah, yes.God had to spice things up, didn’t he?
Some of the hostages managed to escape, as my ‘overly prepared’ crew was too lazy to tie them up of course.
It was time, time to leave, as we had run out of time.
The police had it, they were going to barge in, any second. I told the crew to disperse and escape.We had almost everythig, about five thousand tonnes of gold, sneaked through the sewage pipe lines.Some shitty gold all right.
I collected the gold from the outside and hid it well, while my crew escaped, as “rescued hostages” and then went underground in cities like Rio and Madagascar for a while.
Well atleast, this was the theory.In reality the police came in way before we anticipated.It was one epic shootout.We had no choice!
After a while,I saw the police retreat.I was relieved and sat next to the phone waiting for it to ring.
It rang.
“We lost him boss, we lost him,” Number three cried.
Number two was shot dead as he tried to buy time for the rest of his crew to escape.He was a brave soul, and I promised, not to let his sacrifice go to waste.
 It was a (nearly) perfect robbery.
 It took months for the crisis to calm down, things went back to normal and I assembled the crew.This time only,one less in number.
I took them to the gold, the perfect prize for a perfect heist.
Worth about a billion US dollars,the money was divided,number two’s share donated and the crew was instructed,
                “ Never Meet Again.”

Descriptive: A Train Ride By Javeria Husain

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As I hold my cup of steaming black coffee, the froth slowly dissolving into swirls of beige and black, I find my seat in the broad train aisle, looking desperately for a window seat.
I claim the window seat on my left, and sit down.The seat, seems ancient,a thin layer of dust rests on the worn out leather, with little tears of white seeping out of the gaps.
I run a swift hand to get rid of the dust, and place my belongings near me. Pushing aside the velvety curtains that shield the thin glass window, the jagged concrete road full of scurrying pedestrians comes into view.
A man, of the age of around thirty, lousily stumbles through the aisle and heavily dumps his weight into the creaky seat besides me.
He reeks of beer, his dark eyes drooping and slouched, his buttonholes done into the wrong buttonholes, and his hair made untidy, the oily strands sitting on the top of his head. Who let him onto the bus?
The train starts moving abruptly, and the immediate clashing of the steel wheels against the railway tracks echoes through the bus loudly.
I plug headphones in and scan the fellow passengers around me, allowing the music to flow through my ears.
An old couple with dull white hair, neatly combed, the wife with a set of shiny pearls that hung loosely around her neck, delicately sips a cup of warm tea while wearing a huge smile plastered onto her face as her spouse chuckles deeply while conversing with her.
Behind them sits an overly enthusiastic teacher flipping about cards to the uninterested children behind her, who seem extremely bored and do not pay attention back to her and arrogantly thump their thumbs into PSP’s and Nintendo DS’s.
The man seated next to me, now passed out sleeps with his mouth agape, wide open.The stench of beer floods my nostrils once again, disgusted, I sigh and look outside.
The sky is painted a variety of bright colors as the sun slowly envelopes itself back into the depths of the sky. Glancing at my watch, the green digits show as  ”7:02 p.m”. Perfect time to watch the sun, set.
Shades of dark blue, light pink. lilac, and indigo mix into each other and paint the sky as if it’s a painting by Van Gogh.
Slowly, stars uncover themselves, glistening and twinkling in the surreal, colorful sky. The clouds create a thick orange colored layer to hide the sun, turning them into a deep orange too.
One by one, almost in sync, the lights of the street of the city and tall pointy skyscrapers flicker on. The buildings, reflecting the sky seems to also have stars on them as their white lights turn on too, glistening similarly like stars.The train’s speed increases and my view changes.
Fields of lush green grass and little lilies along with the pink colored petal flowers dance with the lonely strands of upright grass, in the wind.They move melodically with the direction of the wind.
Little children, perhaps from the outskirts of the city joyfully play in the grass field, as their parents admire them with watery eyes.
The lights of the train ceiling flicker on too, changing the atmosphere from full of vivid, opaque and enticing colors to a dull light brown.
The sun, almost swallowed and gone out of sight allows the crescent moon to shine. The paper white moon hides the sun, and reflects it’s white light, coating the city.
The city, full of tiny yellow and white lights shining from a distance light’s up the city and give it it’s night life effect, displaying advertisements on large billboards, too.
The train comes to an abrupt halt. My view is now of a dark coffee colored brick wall of the station.
This was my train ride.

Descriptive: Describe a train ride. By NoorulAin Saif 10B

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The wheels clashed with the railway making a sound so loud sleep felt like a work unknown. The ‘on a budget’ train ride was even harsh to the worst of people. The seats in my compartment had a rough, ragged covering full of stains, dirt and quite some holes which only made me think about whatever happened her before .The window was curtained with dust which asked me to brush it off with my hand to look out.

However, the view outside wasn’t worth one of the numbered napkins I carried along. Outside was deserted, dry and depressing plain with no sign of life on it: no plants, no animals and no humans. The weather outside, with the blazing heat of the sun, didn’t feel impossible to imagine regarding the fact that inside, it wasn’t only hot and humid but also VERY suffocating.

Dsh Tsh! Dsh Tsh! My ears were on the verge of bleeding, and my head on the verge of exploding. I let out another sigh of pain and agony along with my fellow passengers. The train made sure all of us regretted our five dollars and our plan to travel on a train.

Now, came the food. Stale bread that lay on an undesirable beige plate was topped with almost brown cabbage and little chunks of unseasoned chicken. Although the unappetizing detail made me hesitate to do so, I picked up the ‘sandwich’ and took a bite. The ‘boneless’ chicken chunks had little bones in them and I almost threw up. To down it, I took a gulp of the warm, bottled cola.

Everyone looked miserable, including the surrounding décor. The wallpaper on the walls was ripping off and the small table had almost broken. The bunk beds to the side were shaky and untrustworthy, sheets dirty and crumbled and mattresses as hard as rocks.

The hostesses were unpleasant and ill-mannered. Their grumpy faces made any passenger with a question nervous enough to breakdown.

The train ride was definitely a train wreck. The interior was absolutely unwelcoming. Definitely would never recommend it to anyone.

Descriptive: Describe a train ride. By NoorulAin Saif 10B

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The wheels clashed with the railway making a sound so loud sleep felt like a work unknown. The ‘on a budget’ train ride was even harsh to the worst of people. The seats in my compartment had a rough, ragged covering full of stains, dirt and quite some holes which only made me think about whatever happened her before .The window was curtained with dust which asked me to brush it off with my hand to look out.

However, the view outside wasn’t worth one of the numbered napkins I carried along. Outside was deserted, dry and depressing plain with no sign of life on it: no plants, no animals and no humans. The weather outside, with the blazing heat of the sun, didn’t feel impossible to imagine regarding the fact that inside, it wasn’t only hot and humid but also VERY suffocating.

Dsh Tsh! Dsh Tsh! My ears were on the verge of bleeding, and my head on the verge of exploding. I let out another sigh of pain and agony along with my fellow passengers. The train made sure all of us regretted our five dollars and our plan to travel on a train.

Now, came the food. Stale bread that lay on an undesirable beige plate was topped with almost brown cabbage and little chunks of unseasoned chicken. Although the unappetizing detail made me hesitate to do so, I picked up the ‘sandwich’ and took a bite. The ‘boneless’ chicken chunks had little bones in them and I almost threw up. To down it, I took a gulp of the warm, bottled cola.

Everyone looked miserable, including the surrounding décor. The wallpaper on the walls was ripping off and the small table had almost broken. The bunk beds to the side were shaky and untrustworthy, sheets dirty and crumbled and mattresses as hard as rocks.

The hostesses were unpleasant and ill-mannered. Their grumpy faces made any passenger with a question nervous enough to breakdown.

The train ride was definitely a train wreck. The interior was absolutely unwelcoming. Definitely would never recommend it to anyone.

Narrative: Write a story, true or imaginary, entitled ‘The Prize’. By NoorulAin Saif 10 B

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I felt out of breath. My destination was anywhere out of this now turned cruel place, Kashmir, once called home. Leaving my father behind ached my soul, but knowing he was there to help other Muslims comforted me. There were Indian soldiers everywhere. So was blood. So was pain. So was agony.

It had been going on for fifty days now. Kashmir was under attack by the Indian government, claiming their power by torturing, raping and burning Kashmiri Muslims. I was told by them that there was no escape, but my father found us, Kashmiris, a way out. I was running towards the mountains where on the other side I’d find Pakistan’s border. Oh, how it sounded like heaven.

Five in the morning, I left the shelter and headed out. Once I’d reach the border my uncle would help me out. It was approximately 7:00am now. My feet sore, and my legs had almost given up. Thankfully, I was in a crowd of trees, my muddy clothes would conceal me if any beast was around. I sat by a tree, panting, heart beating fast and thoughts running through my mind.

Will I ever make it? What if those predators saw me? Will it be the end of it all?

My knees were bleeding by the numerous amounts of times I tripped on hard rocks, only trying to bear the pain by picturing myself being shot on my legs. I didn’t know how much longer I was to run to get my prize but I got up and started walking.

“Come on Noor, you can make it, for your father and for the helpless souls”, I told myself. Every now and then I’d hear a living thing either walk, or breath. But I told myself it was an animal and tried not to be steered back by the fear.

There was a pleasant breeze. A beautiful sight. Only to make me wish it made me happy. Instead it broke me. God’s creations are so majestic but so are they cruel and heartless.

Now came the river. I had to find a way through. The water was ferocious. I knew if I tried to find a way through it, I’d be crumbled and clenched by the rocks. I then ran to the end of the river where I saw big rocks which led my way over the river. I jumped onto the first one. My heart raced. One wrong step and I’d be eaten up by the river. My bare feet bled. The freezing cold water numbed them. The pain felt never ending.

I was over the river after about fifteen minutes. It must have been eight now. The Indian forces would be changing shifts just about now. I had ten minutes.

I ran like anything. Like everything I ever needed stood miles away. It was all I needed. My feet were on the verge of giving up.

But there it was. The border. My soul felt enlightened. I wanted to scream with pleasure. I had reached my destination, achieved my prize. Freedom was my prize.

Descriptive: The castle By Fasih Taqvi

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Trapped between inviting lush green hills of the Turkish countryside and intimidating jet black, snow-capped mountains of the Caucasus lay a castle. The castle, according to local scriptures, had been built in late 8th century C.E. For years it resided peacefully at the top of a hilltop, not making a sound. No one knew why it was there or who built it. But indeed, it was something quite unique.

The castle signified a time of great prosperity. As the red hues of the fluorescent sunshine beamed upon the rusted iron gates, it revealed the splendour and majesty of the castle. As it shone more brightly, it revealed the ceramic pavements, the marble statues, the most beautifully engineered churches. All a reminder of the castle’s opulence and luxuries.

If one were to look at it from a neighbouring hill station, the castle size itself could be convincing enough of that of a city. Covering 4000 hectares of verdant land. The view there was breath taking. Cyan blue lakes fainting the thousands of trees lined up against one another, tainting the land with various shades of blue, red and whatnot. Along with these wonders of nature, the land hosted thousands of species of rodents, fish and birds too. All living in harmony around the mystical boundaries of the castle.

The castle though so inviting, was quite intimidating too. Its hundreds of foot high walls and large cannons and pots of hot sticky oil was enough to scare the most daring of enemies away. In historic times, the fiercest of knights stood guarding the castle aided with the most skilled of archers. The castle indeed had been a formidable force for its time.

The structure was a representative of an empire that had ruled the land for years; assumingly built for strategic importance. Yet unfortunately, one disastrous event lead to another and the empire was ruined.

What was once its mesmerising dormitories, full of life, now were eerily silent, like those seen in horror movies. The castle’s world-renowned libraries, bursting with the most eloquent pieces of literature and articulate novels, lay in heaps of filth and dust. The bedrooms where the young princes, consorts and princesses abided now robbed of its former spontaneity. It too had become a part of the depressing exterior the castle had adopted.

The castle’s grand bazaar, the gold-plated throne of the Sultan, the main banquet hall, the balcony from where the princesses waved to their suitors and the architectural wonders that it exhibited for everyone to see was now just as unheard of as the castle. All gone. Abandoned, so much so that UNESCO had forgotten to put it on its list. Shunned by the population that once inhabited its walls.

A castle that was once a symbol of greatness, power and luxury had now become a dystopian reality. A shadow of its former historic glory.

 

By Syed Fasih-ul-Hassan Taqvi

10-B

 

 

Descriptive: Describe a celebration at a party by Subhan Bin Yousaf 11-E

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A huge room, which turns to be the epicenter of the party. Coloured lights are dragged and decorated across the golden rod, bearing the weight of the red curtains, as red as the crimson fluid that flowed inside the bodies of the the party’s guests. You can’t look up unless you hope to be blinded by flashing lights, such that if a guest stood under these lights, He would appear brighter than even his own complexion allowed, Brightness reflected off his skin like a ray reflected off a diamond. Not a source of light seen to be switched off, such that in the street stuck in the grasp of darkness, the house in that street itself was a source of light for the passerbys, the house, a sole fighter of the street’s darkness. This would result in an electricity bill, that would only be payable once money grew on trees.

There are balloons, red, yellow, pink, all taped on to the white doors that welcomed the guests, or taped on to the walls with each balloon distanced from the other at a metre’s length. A butler, dressed in a tuxedo, a white bow making amends with his neck. He moves around, holding a silver tray, carrying cocktails, namely Pina Colada and Mint-Margarita. For someone who might desire, may find himself encountering the butler, only to sip down a mixture of pineapples and iced juice or a mixture of sliced to bits mint, squeezed lemon and iced barley juice.

Don’t expect anyone at this party to be dressed in a formal manner. Everyone arrives at the party in a casual dressing, namely T-shirts or buttoned ones, accompanied by Jeans or pajamas with sneakers being the final touch to the dressing. Find different groups hang out amongst themselves in the different corners of the room. If you suit with none of these groups, introduction to others is suggested or find someone who might be down for a game of chess, or just join a queue, watching people bend under the rod’s placement as they play a game of limbo. Dancing in the centre of the room is a common sight, as some guests enjoy the pop music playing on the speakers above their heads and these guests involve themselves in a duet on the ‘dancing’ centre of the room.

For someone who wishes to help himself to an appetite, can move over up to the table, bearing all the taste of juicy meat, different cuisine food, different snacks or cold drinks. You see people munching mostly on pizza and club sandwiches with cold drinks to assist the food’s journey down the oesophagus into the stomach. After a while, when everyone wills for a piece of dessert, then either a piece of cake is seen handed to the guests or scoops of different flavoured icecream, mainly chocolate or vanilla, are fed to the guests.

A party can also serve as a place to carry out juvenile behavior and activities, like consuming drugs, smoking, or mostly getting into fights. In every lone room or corner of the house, you might find people snorting cocaine up their noses and down their lungs, or smoking cigarettes, all as a means to enjoy brief period of intoxication and a time away from the business of reality. You might sight people get down to shoving each other and then gradually forced to shove fists into the other’s cheek aggressively and before you know, the whole crowd gathers around either to watch the theatrical performance or to pull the ‘poles of the magnets’ apart. Therefore a party can be a place where everyone hopes to revive the sense of joy within themselves, but its upto the actions of these guests, over which the guest leaves with a frown assisted with eyebrows pulled down or with a glee shining on their face.