Tragedy Rings No Bell.
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Mukono 1
Monicah Mukono
Mr. Jeffrey Barile
Comp 101
12 February 2013
Tragedy Rings No Bell.
I struggled and tried to open my eyes to the bright light that penetrated in from the only window at the far right side of the room. The blue painting on the wall was dull and the four walls carried burdens of unforgettable memories where rescue to freedom was inevitable. I stretched to ease up the numbness my body felt and shoved my hand across my face to vividly access the view of the place. The room was stuffy and stinky: dead rats and ants covered the area and tiny maggots feasted on them. Beside me was Karla, heavily and peacefully sleeping. It was evident that she had no idea where she was after her many drinks the previous night. Everyone was dressed in orange uniform except from Karla and me. The only hope was of the light that came in through the bars of the window. Trouble had walked in, walking out was impossible.
My parents had travelled for a Christian Mission in South Africa the previous day, when Karla and I decided to enjoy the moment and go to one of the newest dance clubs in Nairobi. Karla had been my best friend since kindergarten; my family had always been there for her after she lost both her parents in a road accident and had no place to call a home. Early that day, we went to an expert who would give us fake identification cards to show that we are twenty-one years old and eligible to be in any club. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into.
With a lot of joy, we dressed up for the big night. We were so happy that our plan was finally a success; however, it was not fully a success until we managed entering the place. We drove to the in the narrow street towards the parking of the club, walked in to the beautiful place that was filled with multicolored lights, music was heard from outside and people had their identification cards checked as they walked in. There we were, the man took Karla’s card and returned it back, and...
Monicah Mukono
Mr. Jeffrey Barile
Comp 101
12 February 2013
Tragedy Rings No Bell.
I struggled and tried to open my eyes to the bright light that penetrated in from the only window at the far right side of the room. The blue painting on the wall was dull and the four walls carried burdens of unforgettable memories where rescue to freedom was inevitable. I stretched to ease up the numbness my body felt and shoved my hand across my face to vividly access the view of the place. The room was stuffy and stinky: dead rats and ants covered the area and tiny maggots feasted on them. Beside me was Karla, heavily and peacefully sleeping. It was evident that she had no idea where she was after her many drinks the previous night. Everyone was dressed in orange uniform except from Karla and me. The only hope was of the light that came in through the bars of the window. Trouble had walked in, walking out was impossible.
My parents had travelled for a Christian Mission in South Africa the previous day, when Karla and I decided to enjoy the moment and go to one of the newest dance clubs in Nairobi. Karla had been my best friend since kindergarten; my family had always been there for her after she lost both her parents in a road accident and had no place to call a home. Early that day, we went to an expert who would give us fake identification cards to show that we are twenty-one years old and eligible to be in any club. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into.
With a lot of joy, we dressed up for the big night. We were so happy that our plan was finally a success; however, it was not fully a success until we managed entering the place. We drove to the in the narrow street towards the parking of the club, walked in to the beautiful place that was filled with multicolored lights, music was heard from outside and people had their identification cards checked as they walked in. There we were, the man took Karla’s card and returned it back, and...