ok, so i decided blah blah. why don't i write a descriptive essay to revise for tmrw...
will i?
well i won't, but i'll fish out my past essays i typed down in the computer.
i guess this essay was in p6, quite decent.
though i'm not quite sure it's mine...

~

“Could we end the game now?” I pleaded. I was playing soccer with my friends, Joel and Joe, in the field near their house. We had been playing for the past one and a half hour and I was exhausted.

I wanted to end the game right away as a drizzle was about to start. The other boys still continued to play. “You got to be kidding me! This is the only time our parents allow us to play.” Joel said, telling me and Joe to continue.

Joel was distracted talking to me that he missed the ball. “See what you have done!” Joel shouted furiously, the ball rolled into some big bushes and he ran after it.

Joel tried hard to pass the bushes’ thick branches but to no avail. No sooner did the drizzle turn into a relentless downpour, after all, it was the monsoon season. He looked at the ground and found an iron rod, perhaps he could use it?

As he was about to swing the metal rod, I remembered something about electrical conductors: Most metals are good conductors of electricity. Oh no, Joel was holding one. “Please Joel! Please stop!” I tried to call him.

All of us were drenched top to toe. My warning came too late, a bright streak of lightning struck Joel. Joel sank like a stone; I could not believe what I was seeing. This had to be a dream, I thought, sadly, it wasn’t.

I asked Joe to go to the void deck to call for help while I went up to Joel. When I saw the burnt body, I could not help myself but to break down to tears. Help arrived quickly and the paramedics tried hard while I explained to the policemen what had happened.

One paramedic came to me and shook his head. The man did not need to say what happened. Joel, my life constants, dead at such a young age, I cannot bring myself to believe it! I looked at Joe, he cried too. Death succeeded in doing what I was meant to do. I wished I could change what had happened. If only.

~

couldn't be, i didn't know i could write like that.
but the ending with death seemed to be my writing style.