English: Creative Writing on Belonging
Part 1: My Picture
Part 2: Creative Writing Related to Chosen Image
I lay alone in this dark intense forest, the smell of carcass surrounds me. Slouched, and glum I watch the days pass by, nothing else but dreading the pain and suffer. The ground is damp, covered in mud and leaves; my bed is the worst place to sleep. With plains so large, which stretch for thousands of yards, I do ponder on whether there is a clan that will accept me. For years and years I have been here, so scared, reckless, and nervous. No matter the distance I travel, I will still never fit in, and that’s what I am told, from beginning until the end.
I am the king of the jungle, the lion, the beast, whatever you prefer to call. I am the biggest of all creations, the emperor of the land, but nobody wants to believe this. I should lead the pack, protect my beings, but I am what I am.
A lion with no roar, you may ask how it happened, but how am I meant to know when I was born without it. Since day one no sounds have erupted except for a harsh little cry, I am a disappointment, disgrace to my name, I am King Red.
The name says it all, I am King, but only by blood, I am not a leader nor does anyone seem to care, I am like Mohammed Ali with broken wrists, powerful, but not able to attack in a brawl. My parents had faith in me until I turned three, no sound, no love it seemed. They both gave up at the disgrace I was, disappointed they just left me, so here I lay, away from the rest, someday hoping for acceptance, my dream will never be let die, but so far the only time I say ‘Hoorah’ is that of which occurs in my dreams. You could say I am a fly with no wings, helpless.
When out with the pack, I walk at the back, head dropped with emotions I cry. But no one is ever to notice. I am the weak link in the chain; they purposely exclude me to stop from bringing them down. I Hunt alone, which...