Holidays!

It’s been a busy few months for Walter and I – and now it’s time for HOLIDAYS! Walter is off to Cyprus for a few weeks and I am off to Scotland. Can’t wait. Although I will be on holiday until the beginning of September (and hence, not posting on this site), Walter and I will still be writing. We are about to start the third story in our ‘Morrow trilogy’ for Helbling publishers (the first has been published and the second is in pre-production). In addition, we are also writing a Factfile for Oxford University Press called ‘Amazing Teens.’ Talking of OUP, the art work for the Bookworm we recently wrote, called Tutankhamun, is being finalised so hopefully we will get to see the first finished pages of that soon. The proposed publication date for Tutankhamun is January 2016. Finally, Walter and I would like to thank everyone who has read our blog. Have a great summer!

Our adaptation of H.G.Wells’s Country of the Blind (Ch9)

The people of the valley lived a simple life, and they worked hard. They had food and clothing, and they had days of rest with singing and dancing.

Nunez marvelled at the valley people’s confidence and meticulousness. Everything was made to suit their needs. All the paths ran side by side and they were clean and free from obstacles. Different markings distinguished the different paths. The valley people’s senses were marvellous: they could hear the slightest movement – even the beating of a heart – and they could smell the slightest scent.

Once or twice, some people tried to listen to Nunez when he told them about his eyes and his ability to see. They sat with their heads down and ears turned towards him. He did his best to tell them of his world, the beauty of sight, the world beyond the mountains, the sky and the sunrise. They listened amused and bewildered. ‘No,’ they told him. ‘There are no mountains, only rocks where the llamas graze. After the rocks, it is the end of the world.’ They told him that his thoughts were wicked and untrue, so Nunez gave up.

One day, Nunez saw Pedro coming towards him. The people around Nunez had no idea: they couldn’t hear or smell Pedro. Nunez wanted to show the advantage of sight and said: ‘Pedro is coming here on path seventeen.’

The people around Nunez scoffed. `Not true. Pedro has no right to be on path seventeen.’

‘He is coming here,’ said Nunez. ‘Just wait.’ But Pedro turned and walked down path ten in the other direction. The people laughed at Nunez when Pedro didn’t arrive. When Nunez asked Pedro questions about him being on the path, he denied it and became hostile towards Nunez.

Our adaptation of H. G. Wells’s Country of the Blind (Ch8)

Nunez liked beautiful things. He loved the snow and the glaciers above the valley. ‘They are the most beautiful things in the world,’ he thought, ‘and I am very grateful because I can see.’ He was thinking this when he heard a voice.

‘Hey! Bogota! Come down here!’

Nunez stood up and smiled. ‘I’m going to play at trick. I won’t make a sound, and they won’t be able to find me.’

‘Why don’t you move, Bogota?’ the voice asked.

Nunez smiled and moved two steps away from the path.

‘Do not stand on the grass, Bogota. It is not allowed.’

Nunez was amazed. He didn’t even hear himself move.

The owner of the voice ran up the path towards him.

Nunez stepped on to the path again. `Here I am,’ he said.

`Why did you not come when I called you?’ the blind man asked. `Are you a child? Can you not hear the path when you walk on it?’

Nunez laughed. `I can see it. I don’t need to hear it!’

The man paused. `See? What do you mean? There is no such word.’ The man started to walk. `Follow the sound of my feet,’ he said.

Nunez followed him, but he was feeling a little annoyed.

`There is much to learn in this world,’ said the man.

`Don’t you know, ` said Nunez, `that in the Country of the Blind, the One-eyed Man Is King!’

`What is blind?’ asked the man.

*

Days and days passed. Nunez wanted to be king in the valley. He didn’t like working at night and sleeping during the day. He wanted to change this, but the valley people didn’t listen. For them, the ‘king’ was just a child.

Our adaptation of H.G. Wells’s Country of the Blind (Ch7)

An older man began to question Nunez, and Nunez tried to describe his world: the sky, the mountains, the people, and all the other wonderful things in it. The old men sat and listened – and believed nothing. Fourteen generations ago, these people became blind and were cut off from the rest of the world. The stories of another, different world were just fairy stories, they thought. Nunez slowly understood the differences between him and the people of the valley. The valley people believed their elders and questioned nothing. Their days were ‘warm and cold’ and not ‘day and night’. They said it was good to sleep in the warm and work in the cold. For them, light meant nothing.

Nunez was there, the elders said, to learn about their world, and all the people in the room agreed. They asked Nunez, `Do you know how to sleep?’ because he came to them in the warm time when they usually slept and woke them.

`I know how to sleep,’ Nunez told them, ‘but first I want food.’

They brought him food – llama’s milk in a bowl and salted bread – and took him away to a quiet place. There, they left him to eat and sleep until evening – the start of their day – came.

But Nunez didn’t sleep. He thought about his situation. Sometimes he laughed and sometimes he shook his head in bewilderment.

`They think I am from the rocks and newly born,’ he laughed. ‘But I will teach them…’ He began thinking hard.

He was still thinking when the sun set.

Our adaptation of H.G.Wells’s Country of the Blind (Ch6)

Nunez found this first meeting with the villagers difficult. Some children came to meet him. They were pretty though their eyes were closed and sunken. They touched and smelled him and listened to his every word. The three men kept close to him. ‘The man from the rock,’ the villagers said over and over again.

‘I’m from Bogota,’ Nunez said, `from over the mountain.’

‘A wild man – he is using wild words,’ said Pedro. `Did you hear that? Bogota! His mind is only young; he doesn’t know words!’

A little boy squeezed his hand. `Bogota!’ he said and laughed.

‘Yes,’ said Nunez. ‘In my world, people have eyes and can see.’

‘His name is Bogota,’ the villagers said.

‘He stumbled when he walked. He stumbled twice!’ Correa said. ‘Take him to the elders.’

Soon, they pushed Nunez through a doorway and into a very dark room. At the far side, there was a fire. The crowd came in behind Nunez. Suddenly, Nunez fell over someone’s legs and landed on some people.

‘I fell down,’ he said, `because I cannot see well in this room.’ He tried to stand again, but he couldn’t. Strong hands held him down.

`He stumbles because he is newly-made,’ said Correa. Others spoke too, but Nunez couldn’t understand them.

`May I sit up?’ Nunez asked. `I won’t struggle.’

The people agreed and Nunez sat up.

Chapter 5 of H. G. Wells’s classic Country of the Blind

Nunez greeted the men and watched them closely.

`Where does he come from?’ one man asked another.

`Down from the rocks…’ the second man replied.

`I came from over the mountain,’ Nunez told them. ‘In my country, all men can see. My city is near Bogota. There are thousands of people there. The city stretches far out of sight…’

`Sight?’ said the first man. `What is sight?’

`He came,’ said the third man, `out of the rocks.’

They moved towards Nunez, their arms out stretched. Nunez stepped away.

`Come here,’ said the third man and held Nunez. The blind men felt Nunez all over.

`Careful!’ cried Nunez when one of their fingers found his eye. This organ was strange to them. They felt it again and again.

‘A strange creature,’ said the second man. `Feel his hair! It is like llama hair!’

‘He feels hard and rough, just like the rocks he came from,’ said the first man and felt Nunez’s chin. Nunez tried to get free, but they held him firm.

`Careful,’ said Nunez again.

`He speaks, so he is certainly a man. Tell me again. Where did you come from?’ the second man asked.

‘I came from a place over there,’ said Nunez, and he pointed to the mountains. But the three blind men did not look. `I walked over the glacier, about twelve days journey from here.’

The men seemed not to hear him. `This is a marvellous occasion,’ said the second man. `The old men told us stories about men from the rocks…’

`Let us take him to the elders,’ said the third man and the three men tried to take Nunez’s hand. Nunez pulled his hand away. `I can see,’ he said, but then he stumbled into one of the men’s pails.

`His senses are not good,’ said the second man. `He stumbles and uses strange words. We must lead him by the hand.’ The men took Nunez’s hand, and Nunez let them.

‘They know nothing about sight,’ thought Nunez. ‘But in time, I will teach them.’

Our adaptation of H. G. Wells’s Country of the Blind (Ch4)

Along a path in the valley below, Nunez saw three men. The men walked slowly in line, one next to the other. Their clothes were made of llama wool. On their heads, they wore black hats; and in their hands, they had pails. Nunez was happy to see the men. He stood on a rock and shouted. His voice echoed around the valley.

The three men stopped and looked around. They looked left and right. ‘Up here!’ Nunez shouted and waved, but the men did not see him. The men walked this way and that, but they still did not see Nunez. `The fools must be blind,’ Nunez said angrily. ‘What’s the matter with them?’

Finally, Nunez decided to go to the three men. He climbed down and came towards the small group.

The three men stood side by side; their ears directed at him, not looking at him, listening to his steps. They looked a little afraid. Nunez could not see their eyes; they were closed and sunk deep in their heads.

‘There is a man,’ one of the men said. ‘It is a man, and he is coming down from the mountain.’

Nunez walked towards them confidently. Now he understood: the men were blind. Nunez remembered all the old stories about The Country of the Blind, and he thought about an old proverb from long ago.

`In the Country of the Blind – the one-eyed man is king.’

Chapter 3 of H.G.Wells’s classic story The Country of the Blind

Nunez was a mountaineer. He was also a sailor, but he liked to climb the most. He was a good climber, and he was in Ecuador to climb Parascotopetl, the ‘Matterhorn of the Andes’. On the way to the top of Parascotopetl, Nunez had an accident and fell. He fell down the east of Parascotopetl and landed in deep snow. His companions searched hard but could not find him. After some time, they gave up: they believed Nunez was dead. But Nunez survived.

Nunez fell over a thousand feet down an icy slope. He did not break a single bone. But when he landed, he lay unconscious for a while. When Nunez eventually opened his eyes, he saw a valley far below. There were many trees, and he saw small, stone houses too. He did not know it, but it was the Country of the Blind. He stood up. His bones and muscles ached from the fall, but slowly he started to climb down towards the valley. On the way, he saw many beautiful flowers and crops in the valley’s fields. He also saw llamas and huts to keep them in. After a long climb, he reached the houses. They were small with no windows. The houses were covered with a brown, muddy plaster. It was thick and untidy.

‘The man who put on that plaster,’ Nunez thought, ‘must be blind.’

He kept on walking; and soon, he saw some woman and children.

At last, he felt safe.

eflshorts.com

Adaptation of H.G. Wells’s classic short story: The Country of the Blind (Ch2)

After some time, the world forgot about the people in the valley.

But the valley people did not worry. Life there was easy: the valley had no dangerous insects or dangerous animals. Instead, it was full of useful plants, clean water, and gentle llamas.

The valley people also did not worry much about becoming blind. It happened slowly. At first, the old people lost their eyesight; then the not so old. Soon, every newborn child was born blind. And when sight finally died out, the valley people lived on. They did not need their eyes to make a fire, to cook, or to move around. The valley was their home, and they knew every part of it. Generation after generation lived without the use of their eyes. They forgot many things but learned many others. Decades passed. The valley people were happy. Then a stranger came to the valley – a man from the outside world, a mountaineer.

His arrival changed everything.

eflshorts.com

New adaptation: H. G. Wells’s classic short story The Country of the Blind (Ch1)

Three hundred miles from Chimborazo and one hundred miles from the snow of Cotopaxi – deep in Ecuador’s Andes Mountains – there is a green valley. Most men do not know about it – it is a mystery. But the valley has a name, and its name is The Country of the Blind. Many years ago, the valley was open and many people went there: the sad, the hungry, and the poor. They went there because they wanted to escape difficult lives in their own countries. So they climbed over the steep slopes and icy glaciers of the Andes and settled in that beautiful place. Then, years later, an earthquake caused a landslide. Mud and rocks came down the side of a mountain and cut off the path to The Country of The Blind forever.

But one man knew about The Country of the Blind because he lived there. When the landslide happened, he was on one side and his family and The Country of the Blind was on the other. After the mud and rocks tumbled down and blocked the path, he never saw his family or the valley again.

He had a story and told everyone. And everyone who heard his tale never forgot it.

The valley, he said, had everything: sweet water, green grass and a warm climate. It had healthy brown soil and trees with fruit; rivers fed the valley from the glacier and helped grow the crops. People and their animals prospered. But one thing happened to mar their happiness. A strange disease hit them – an illness no one understood or could explain.

All the children in the valley were born blind…

Adapted by EFLshorts.com

You can find the original story here.

Our adaptation of The Blind Man (FInal chapter)

The people continued with their lives.

The blind man – cold, hungry and close to death – got up from the road and started to walk. He was lost and covered with ice. He stumbled and fell again and again, but he never made a sound. He only wanted to find a house. He only wanted to find a warm, safe place.

It started to snow. His tired legs could walk no further. He stopped and sat down in an open field. He did not get up again. Large, white snowflakes fell all night. By morning, his body was under a smooth, white *blanket.

His sister and brother-in-law did not miss him, but they *pretended to care. They asked about him and looked for him, but only for a week.

*

It was a long hard winter and the snow was slow to *melt. One Sunday, on his way to church, a young farmer saw some *crows above a field. They dropped down to a spot on the ground and then flew up into the air, over and over again. The next week there were more of them. Their calls were loud and excited. ‘What are they doing? Why are they there?’ the young farmer asked himself.

The young farmer went into the field. There, he found the blind man’s body in the melted snow. The farmer looked at the body’s face. It had no eyes.

In life, the blind man’s eyes were useless; and in death, they were food for the crows.

This is the blind man’s story, and I think about it every time I see the sun and feel its warmth on my face.

Copyright EFLShorts..com

GLOSSARY

*blanket – cover

*pretended – behaved to make it appear that it was true when it was not

*melt – to turn from ice to water

*crows – a large, black bird

 

This is the blind man’s story, and I think about it every time I see the sun and feel its warmth on my face.

Our adaptation of The Blind Man (Ch 2)

His sister and brother-in-law starved* him; and slowly, the blind boy’s face got thinner and thinner. He sat beside the fire like stone. Only his eyelids* above his two big eyes moved. They trembled* sometimes, afraid. When he did move, he often fell down. Then, when he was on the ground, people liked to laugh at him. But they did not stop to help.

This continued for many years. The blind boy could not work, and this made his brother-in-law very angry. So the torture* got worse. His brother-in-law and sister often gave him wood, leaves and even dirt to eat. They also banged their feet on the floor to frighten* him. Then this brother-in-law started to hit him. He did this at home and in the street. When people saw him do it, they hit the blind boy too and laughed. The blind boy tried to hit them back, but he couldn’t. He missed and fell over. To keep people away, the blind boy started to walk with his arms out. But people still hit him.

In the end, to get food, the blind boy started to beg*. He sat in the road with his hand out and said, `Help me, please. I am a poor, blind boy.’ But most days, he got nothing.

Then, one winter’s day, when there was snow on the ground, the brother-in-law took the blind boy far, far away. Then he left him. The poor blind boy did not know the road home. When the blind boy did not return that night, the brother-in-law lied to the blind boy’s sister. ‘He is not lost,’ he told her. ‘He cannot go a day without eating our food: he is going to come back soon!’

So no one worried and went on with their lives.

Copyright: EFLshorts.com

GLOSSARY

starved* – not given any food

eyelids* – the skin that covers our eyes

trembled* – shook

torture* – cause extreme physical and/or mental harm

frighten* – scare

beg* – plead

Our adaptation of Maupassant’s The Blind Man (Ch1)

Why does the sunlight make us feel so happy? The whole sky is blue, the fields are green, and the houses are white. Our eyes enjoy those bright colours, and they bring us happiness. When we see the sun, we want to dance, run, sing, and think happy thoughts.

But the blind, as they sit at their doorways, unmoving in their darkness, always stay calm*. Life is lived all around them, but they never know.

Once, there lived a blind boy. He was the son of a poor French farmer. He lived with his mother and father all his life, and they looked after him. But his mother and father died, and he was left alone. This was a hard start to life, and it made him unhappy. He went to live with an older sister and her husband. They did not want him, and his brother-in-law treated* him badly. At dinner time they gave him little or no food, and he went hungry. They called him names and fed him like a dog with scraps* off the table. He never said anything or showed anger. People called him bad names. Did he ever hear the names? No one knew. His face never showed any emotion*. He did not know love of any kind. When he finished his dinner in summer, he would sit outside. When he finished his dinner in winter, he would sit by the fire and not move.

For years it went on this way. He could not work, and his family began to resent* him more and more. They called him more names and played jokes on him. They brought cats and dogs in to eat with him, and all the neighbours came to watch and laugh.

But still the blind boy did not say anything.

Copyright: EFLshorts.com

GLOSSARY

calm* – not upset, relaxed

treated* – acted towards, deal with

scraps* – a small amount of uneaten food

emotion* – strong feeling

resent* – feel bitter about, have a grudge about

New short story starts tomorrow: Guy de Maupassant’s The Blind Man

Tomorrow, we begin a new short story adaptation for intermediate learners. The original story is by Guy de Maupassant and its title is The Blind Man. We hope you enjoy it.

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Fish and Chips (Ch15) – the final chapter

We have a baby girl. She was born on Christmas Day. We called her Angela, our little angel. Like the sun, everything revolves around her. Once, I used to put my head down on my pillow at night and not wake up again until morning. Not now. Nowadays, I’m lucky if I get three hours uninterrupted* sleep. But I don’t mind. I’m a father; I’m an incredibly proud, incredibly lucky father. Sometimes when Angela wakes me up at night, I don’t get back to sleep again. Usually, I take a spare duvet* and go downstairs into the living room. Then I sit and think about that night in the Fish and Chip shop. I haven’t told Helen anything about it. As far as she knows, the car broke down and I had to walk part of the way home.

I know it’s better to lie, but I wish I could tell her.

I look at my watch and take a sip of my tea. I’ve been awake since four, when Angela woke me up. It is nearly six now and still dark outside. There is also snow on the ground. Even if I couldn’t see it lying on the top of cars, I would know: snow and neon streetlights create an unmistakeable orange glow. I shiver at the thought of stepping out, but there is no alternative: I used the last remaining nappy* last night. I’ll get some more – no big deal*. There is a 24hr supermarket a mile away. I’ll take the car and be back in twenty minutes.

After I clear the snow off the car and get the car started, I put the heater on full and wait for the car to warm up. The warm air blowing on my legs feels good. I think of little Angela sleeping in her cot* all cosy and wrapped up in blankets. I smile. She is safe and warm and in my life. I drive off and head for the supermarket. Everything around me is deserted. I am in a snow desert. But up ahead is a junction. It is the turn that takes me onto the main road. The road I am on has been salted and covered in grit, but I slow almost to a crawl nonetheless. Next to the turn, there is bus shelter. I apply the brakes gently, getting ready to turn. I check to my left. All clear. As begin to turn right, I see that there is someone in the shelter. The person is huddled on the ground, covered with a light blanket. I feel suddenly sorry for this poor soul. Maybe I should stop and give the person some money or help in some way. As I move onto the main road, the person in the shelter suddenly sits up. I only get a glimpse, but I am sure. I am sure it is George. I am on the main road now. It has been cleared of snow. There are other cars, behind and in front. I pick up speed. I look in the mirror. George is still sitting up. He is watching me drive away. I can feel his eyes. They are locked onto my car. I press the accelerator harder. I watch in the mirror until George and the shelter have disappeared.

Until they have become nothing but a memory.

Copyright: eflshorts.com

GLOSSARY

uninterrupted* – not broken or disturbed

duvet* – a warm blanket

nappy* – a diaper, a piece of material wrapped around a baby’s bottom

no big deal* – not a big problem

cot* – a baby’s bed

Fish and Chips (Ch14)

The car slowed down and stopped. Angela put the car into neutral and I sighed. I was home. After all that had happened, I had made it back to my wife. I looked at my house and then turned to Angela, the woman who had been brave enough to help me. ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ I said. ‘If it hadn’t been for you…’

‘I’m only glad I could help,’ she replied, giving me a broad* smile. ‘Now off you go and don’t keep your wife waiting any longer.’

I nodded. Stepping out, the icy air stung my face. ‘Merry Christmas,’ I said, my breath surrounding me in white clouds.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she replied.

I closed the door and a moment later, the car moved away, its tires crunching through the ice on a puddle. But its red tail lights receded* quickly, and when I raised a hand and waved, it was too late: Angela’s car swung right at the bottom of the street and was gone.

Wary of slipping, I trod carefully up my driveway and was suddenly aware of snowflakes tumbling* past me. I stopped and stared into the looming* sky. The delicate flakes tumbled out of it and met with my skin. Sunrise was hours away, but to the east, a paler darkness was forming. I looked at my watch, and looked at it again. At some point during the night it had stopped. I guessed the time might be around five – early, but I knew Helen would be up. She must be frantic*. What was I going to tell her?

I stopped and looked in my front window. It was bow-shaped and its centre sat our Christmas tree, its lights glowing amongst the baubles* and pine needles*. I stared at it. I couldn’t see them, but I knew that at the base of the tree, there were gifts wrapped in bows, waiting to be opened. The life I had – a loving wife, a comfortable home, an unborn child – was now just a turn of the key away. I had come so close to losing it all, but I hadn’t.

Standing on that step and listening to my wife coming down the stairs, I began to cry.

I was grateful beyond words.

© EFLshorts.com

broad* – wide

receded* – grew more distant, became further away

tumbling*– falling

looming* – overhanging, threatening

frantic*– very distressed, upset

baubles*- spherical decorations

pine needles* – the leaves of a pine tree

An interview with Helbling Languages about The Right Thing

Recently, Walter and Scott did an interview for Helbling Languages. They spoke about their new story, The Right Thing, which will be published in March 2015, and the way that they write. Here is the link: http://blog.helblingreaders.com

Screen Shot 2015-02-18 at 18.04.38

Tagged , , , ,

Fish and Chips (Ch13)

I ran until I could run no further. When I eventually stopped, I could barely stand. Gasping*, I looked back towards the village. Was it the same night or the next? I wasn’t sure and didn’t even care. An orange glow lit the sky above where I presumed* the shop was. For a moment, a vision of the shopkeeper, dead on the floor with flames tearing at him, filled my head.

Suddenly, out of the dark, a car’s headlights flashed, disappeared and re-appeared again, weaving* along the bending road towards me. I ran into the middle of the road, waving my arms and shouting. There was a screech of brakes, and the car slowed down. It tried to go past me, but I launched myself onto its bonnet and made it stop. Inches from my face, a frightened young woman stared back at me through the front windscreen glass.

`Please,’ I yelled, ‘my car’s broken down. I need a lift.’

The woman shook her head. She looked terrified*. I couldn’t blame her.

‘I need to get home to my wife. She’s pregnant. I ran out of petrol. You’ve got to help me. Please. Please.’ I looked at the woman’s face. ‘I’m begging you.’

I could see that she didn’t know what to do. I was a stranger in the night; I could be a madman, but I could also be telling the truth. `Please,’ I said again, `It’s Christmas and I don’t want to miss the birth of my child.’ The woman bit her lip and looked around herself as though she were looking for someone who could make the decision for her.

Slowly, the fear drained* from her eyes and the car stopped completely. I climbed off the bonnet and began apologizing for what I had done, hoping that I was sounding like a normal person might.

A few moments after that, she unlocked the doors.

© EFLshorts.com

GLOSSARY

Gasping* – breathing very heavily

presumed* – assumed, guessed

weaving* – moving from side to side

terrified* – very, very frightened

drained* – emptied

Fish and Chips (Ch12)

‘Is he dead?’ I asked.

George didn’t answer. It was a stupid question. I had stood and watched while the shopkeeper’s limbs had thrashed*, while his face had contorted*, while George’s grip had tightened, while the shopkeeper had breathed his last breath and become still…

‘Of course he’s dead,’ said George, standing over the shopkeeper, his legs either side of the body.

I stared. I couldn’t think. The nightmare had taken yet another turn. I was numb. What were we going to do? This man had tried to kill us, and now he was dead, murdered in front of me. It was self-defence. The shopkeeper was a maniac*. Who knows how many other people he had killed. But George had committed a crime. He had made us criminals. There would have to be an investigation. We would have to defend our actions…

I was aware of George moving around the storeroom, looking for something.

‘What are you doing?’ I shouted, rage* suddenly erupting* from me.

George didn’t reply. Head down, he continued to rummage, mumbling to himself.

‘Answer me! What are you doing?’

George stopped and stared at me. ‘It was him or us,’ he said.

‘We should call the police. We can explain. There was a fight; we had to protect ourselves.’

George had a bundle of newspapers in his hands. He dropped them next to the body and began collecting more. He looked at me over his shoulder. I was in shock. I had no idea what he was doing. It was only when he returned with more papers, reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter that I understood. ‘I’m not explaining anything,’ he said.

The fire was already blazing when I barged* out of the shop.

© Eflshorts.com

GLOSSARY

*thrashed – moved violently

*contorted – moved to form strange shapes

*maniac – madman, lunatic

*rage – anger

*erupting – coming out suddenly

*canister – container

*barging – pushing

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