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The Cell of Death Original Writing

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Introduction

GCSE English Coursework: The Cell of Death? Original Writing In Britain, 90% of people who break the law end up in prison. Why? To keep them from re-offending, I guess. Is that the best punishment for criminals? , I hear you ask. Taking away their freedom? A philosopher from Cambridge University, Michael Smith, once said, ?The only time humans can be free is when they are in jail. There, they can empty their mind, and be free inside?. I strongly disagree with this statement because I do not believe we can ever empty our minds, whether we are locked up or free to roam the streets. A cell takes away our dignity, pride, integrity and most of all it breaks you. I call it, ?The cell of Death?. Where am I? Why am I here? We all have dreams and aspirations. Mine is ending in a dark, creepy and dismayed cubicle. Have you ever been in a place which you had wished you will never live? You do not have the chance to see the bright and beautiful daylight. All you see is gloom and four dull walls surrounding you. On a daily basis, I am tangled with heavy metal chains which rustle as I walk to the vineyard for chores. ...read more.

Middle

In addition, I have to empty my bladder in a transparent coke bottle, which is usually not enough to hold the urine; hence, I watch it flow across the floor. Imagine the hideous sight and poor state I live in. Looking around me, I look hard to see if there is anything I can concentrate on. Something I can focus my mind on, just to try and pass away the dragging day or maybe the crushing, pathetic and tiny cell I call my dwelling place. It is as small as a cardboard box, smells like a gutter in a ghetto. The plain white washed walls are old and wrinkled and every time I place my back on it, my clothes turn white and flaky. I try so hard to push aside the horrors of this place and even when I dream at night, I dream of death. The vain of death flashes throughout the night. Suddenly, I jerk up from my bed, sweating like a lamb in the slaughter house. Strange how these things happen! I feel so suicidal, but I cannot do it. I need to be strong, I need to have hope, like they say, ?In life, there are dreams that we desperately seek in the daylight, but do not come to us in the cell. ...read more.

Conclusion

Like the famous Martin Luther King Speech, I hang onto mine, which says: ?I have a dream, that one day, I will be free to glide the streets of London again, to dance like no one is watching and to say hello to anyone who wants listen?. Now I am walking, but my feet hardly touches the ground, I must be floating, my body, my mind, my soul are playing games with me and I cannot escape. Today like any other day, I squat in the middle of my room, rocking backwards and forwards trying to seek the face of God through prayer in time of need. I do not feel or believe God can hear me and when I speak, it is utter rubbish. How can he understand? I am more determined to make myself madder than my own mind. I just cannot help it. Life in a cell is violent, ridiculous and empty. The light is beginning to go out, it is starting to beep and blink, flicker and glow like the stars. Suddenly, pitch darkness. Where is my candle? I was not ready for this. I am afraid of the dark. It creeps all over me and there is nothing I can do. As the fire gets feeble and cold, so is my body and soul. ________________ Gavin Lawrence 10F Page ...read more.

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