The graveyard was cold, dark and dreary. One weary old oak tree leaned over the entrance gate and broken battered headstones were scattered all around. I could hear the sound of the howling wind and the creak and groan of branches as they swayed in the storm. The smell of fear and rotting leaves filled my nostrils and I swallowed…
Question 5: A cold hand grasped his wrist as he slumped to his knees. Write a story which includes these words. This story is based on Question 5 above. A Miner’s Story The gold bearing plateau of the Guiana Shield is every miner‟s destination. But many times, it is also their doom. The rainforest holds a hellish hatred, a demonic grudge against…
