A day in the snow. The bell rang, and lesson was over. I struggled to join my friends so that I could walk with them.

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A day in the snow

Snow was falling.  Flakes settled in quick succession; covering the tarmac.  It was as if clouds were intermingling with the inkiness of the skies. The colours smudged to darkness. Leaves dyed as they buried into the iced ditch. Wind battled against the bushes.

Minutes after staring at the view outside; voices from the distant entered upon my hearing. I resisted turning in my chair. My eyes were focused on the screen, surfing pages, catching all the while glimpses of eyes watching me. The muttering from the distance set my heart racing. It made me anxious.

The bell rang, and lesson was over. I struggled to join my friends so that I could walk with them. I suffered in the freezing cold, surrounded by the blankets of snow and bushes painted in white.  People were darting out of the buildings in crowds. I began, to walk side along with my friends. Figures were hanging back delaying lesson time; their dirty looks made me doubtful about my surroundings.

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 I carried on walking trying to ignore everybody that passed me. Suddenly, snow balls like stones were pelted towards my direction by a crowd of students. Lacerated by pain, inflamed and vexed, I comprehended the nature of these people, their hearts were trained to become hard and cold. I thought I understood their reasoning: that I was a different colour from them. I could not bear this treatment: I needed to release my anger in some way. I hastened to gather as much snow as I could, and quickly used it to make snow balls so that I could take revenge.  There was ...

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