The Safari

The golden dust, the scent of coming rain, The rising sun on the vast and open plain. A canvas painted in ochre, green, and gold, A story ancient, and so bravely told. The engine hums, a low and patient sound, As the jeep goes searching for hallowed ground. A silhouette of giraffes, tall and serene, A living image on a wild and endless scene The mighty lions, a sun-soaked tawny pride, Hidden in the grasses where their instincts guide. A leopard's shadow, elusive and so rare, Sliding through the thicket with a quiet, watchful stare. The trumpeting echo of the elephant's call, As families wander, moving free and tall. A wildebeest stampede, a blur of motion swift, A thundering promise, a primal, moving gift. And when the twilight paints the sky anew, With fiery hues of crimson and deep blue, The campfire crackles, a low and steady glow, With jackals barking in the dark, and stars that grow. The stillness settles, vast, deep and wide, The wildness stirring, with nowhere left to hi...

Anger-A Short Story

 Dust swirled in the beam of light from the high school's overhead projector, a silent galaxy of particles suspended in the dead air. Lucas stared at it, not at Mr. Harrison's meticulously boring PowerPoint on the Louisiana Purchase. The anger was a slow burn, a low-frequency hum vibrating just beneath his skin, and the dust motes were dancing in its heat.

The bell rang, a shrill, jarring clamor that made Lucas wince. His classmates exploded into noise and motion, books slamming shut, chairs scraping back. Mr. Harrison called out, "Lucas, stay for a minute."

He didn't need to ask why. The pop quiz was still on his desk, its surface a smear of red ink. A fat, angry D- minus. Lucas had stared at the questions, his brain a fog of useless facts, and the anger had started its slow creep.


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