So, I am alway on the look out for Penulisan contests with inspiring prompts for me to enter. I got really exited when I found this one:
link because I had an idea for it right away. I spent all afternoon researching the Battle of Little Bighorn, because I wanted to set it in the aftermath of that battle, and Penulisan it, instead of Penulisan a biography of William Blake that I was supposed to be doing for school :P. then, when I went to go hantar it, I figured out the people wanted me to sign up for a membership to their website for $6.75 a bulan to enter the contest, which I don't really want to. So, please read this, guys, and give me feedback, because I feel like I worked realy hard on it for nothing.
Aiyana focused on the rhythm of her footsteps and prayed to the spirits of the Earth and wind that they would give her the strength to carry on her journey. Her brown eyes burned from the glare of the setting sun that lay right in front of her, but she refused to turn her eyes from the path in front of her. The dusty Montana soil filled her moccasins and chaffed her feat. Sweat matted wisps of her glossy black hair, tied in two braids, to her forehead. Her deer skin dress was tattered and smeared with dirt. Aiyana believed at a very young age in the Cheyenne principles of nature and living spirits that connected everything on Earth. When a person respects the land around them, the spirits would guide anda and provide everything necessary for anda to live contently and peacefully. Aiyana knew how to connect with the spirits of soil, crop, water, and sky, and learned to Cinta them, but she knew no one person could own nature as if it was there possession. When the moon-skinned men first came to the Sacred Hill, she welcomed them because they were part of nature just as she was. Soon after meeting them, her blood began to boil against them. They had no respect for Earth and talked to her father as if their intentions were to keep the soil of the Sacred bukit to themselves, without sharing it with anyone else. Their lifestyle was stuffy, pompous, and boring; they never danced atau told stories, and looked down on Aiyana’s people when they performed their ritual dances. Her dislike for them collected in her hati, tengah-tengah and became lebih and lebih passionate every day. Then, on a summer day, the moon-skinned men, with their weapons of api, kebakaran and thunder, slaughtered her kin. She gritted her teeth as the visions of people she loved fell to the ground as the moon-skins unemotionally and ruthlessly went on with fighting. The survivors of the Cheyenne tribe were captured as prisoners; bound sejak the hands and ruffed into a rickety train car. They were to be driven to a new place, so the moon-skins could posses Sacred Hill. Aiyana was last in line to be forced on the train, right after her mother. Right before she was thrust into the car, she stomped on her captivator’s foot, whirled around, and spat in his face. He, in turn, cuffed her face with the butt of his senapang and pushed her to the ground. He yelled something not of her language, and signaled for the train to start moving. Smoke billowed out of the train and the wheels started to pick up speed before Aiyana had the strength to get up. The last thing she heard from the train was her mother screaming her name. As soon as she got back on her feet, she went to the battlefield and picked up a spear from one of her fallen brethren.
Now, she had only two things on her mind; her mother and revenge. She knew that the train had to follow the path of its tracks, and eventually it had to come to a stop. All she had to do was walk along the tracks and she would end up the same place as the moon-skins brought her mother. For the past two days and nights, all Aiyana did was march between the rails, eyes foreword and head held high, battling hunger, thirst, heat, and fatigue, and she planned to do so until she got to her destination atau dropped down dead. She was the face of perseverance, courage, and faith. Like her namesake, she was an “eternal blossom,” beautiful and graceful, but strong and powerful enough to make her mark in the universe, even after death.
link because I had an idea for it right away. I spent all afternoon researching the Battle of Little Bighorn, because I wanted to set it in the aftermath of that battle, and Penulisan it, instead of Penulisan a biography of William Blake that I was supposed to be doing for school :P. then, when I went to go hantar it, I figured out the people wanted me to sign up for a membership to their website for $6.75 a bulan to enter the contest, which I don't really want to. So, please read this, guys, and give me feedback, because I feel like I worked realy hard on it for nothing.
Aiyana focused on the rhythm of her footsteps and prayed to the spirits of the Earth and wind that they would give her the strength to carry on her journey. Her brown eyes burned from the glare of the setting sun that lay right in front of her, but she refused to turn her eyes from the path in front of her. The dusty Montana soil filled her moccasins and chaffed her feat. Sweat matted wisps of her glossy black hair, tied in two braids, to her forehead. Her deer skin dress was tattered and smeared with dirt. Aiyana believed at a very young age in the Cheyenne principles of nature and living spirits that connected everything on Earth. When a person respects the land around them, the spirits would guide anda and provide everything necessary for anda to live contently and peacefully. Aiyana knew how to connect with the spirits of soil, crop, water, and sky, and learned to Cinta them, but she knew no one person could own nature as if it was there possession. When the moon-skinned men first came to the Sacred Hill, she welcomed them because they were part of nature just as she was. Soon after meeting them, her blood began to boil against them. They had no respect for Earth and talked to her father as if their intentions were to keep the soil of the Sacred bukit to themselves, without sharing it with anyone else. Their lifestyle was stuffy, pompous, and boring; they never danced atau told stories, and looked down on Aiyana’s people when they performed their ritual dances. Her dislike for them collected in her hati, tengah-tengah and became lebih and lebih passionate every day. Then, on a summer day, the moon-skinned men, with their weapons of api, kebakaran and thunder, slaughtered her kin. She gritted her teeth as the visions of people she loved fell to the ground as the moon-skins unemotionally and ruthlessly went on with fighting. The survivors of the Cheyenne tribe were captured as prisoners; bound sejak the hands and ruffed into a rickety train car. They were to be driven to a new place, so the moon-skins could posses Sacred Hill. Aiyana was last in line to be forced on the train, right after her mother. Right before she was thrust into the car, she stomped on her captivator’s foot, whirled around, and spat in his face. He, in turn, cuffed her face with the butt of his senapang and pushed her to the ground. He yelled something not of her language, and signaled for the train to start moving. Smoke billowed out of the train and the wheels started to pick up speed before Aiyana had the strength to get up. The last thing she heard from the train was her mother screaming her name. As soon as she got back on her feet, she went to the battlefield and picked up a spear from one of her fallen brethren.
Now, she had only two things on her mind; her mother and revenge. She knew that the train had to follow the path of its tracks, and eventually it had to come to a stop. All she had to do was walk along the tracks and she would end up the same place as the moon-skins brought her mother. For the past two days and nights, all Aiyana did was march between the rails, eyes foreword and head held high, battling hunger, thirst, heat, and fatigue, and she planned to do so until she got to her destination atau dropped down dead. She was the face of perseverance, courage, and faith. Like her namesake, she was an “eternal blossom,” beautiful and graceful, but strong and powerful enough to make her mark in the universe, even after death.
A little bit on what Sayuri looks like:)
