Elijah's Life Experiences

As the long awaited World Cup is coming, I wrote the following  "5 Whys I Love Soccer (Football)". Acceleration , simplicity , persistence , fun , inexp ensiveness - these five words flame my passion of soccer in my life. I have loved soccer since I was four - playing soccer since I was in preschool with Father and Mother. (1) Acceleration is one of the many reasons I like soccer. I love the rush of wind in my face as I raced the other team members to a loose ball; or when the other team has the ball and I run up to them and snatch it away. Hearing people cheer my name as I make a timely manoeuvre, I feel great! (2) Simplicity - The next reason for my love of soccer is its simplicity. Soccer is a simple sport that anyone can follow to start playing instantly. All you need is a ball to kick around in a place like a grass field, sandy beach, concrete floor of a basketball court or even on your bedroom floor. During recess when I join my friends for a game of

I was trying my hand on a "Short description of a dog in the rain".             It was an overcast Sunday afternoon, with the occasional rumblings of thunder that sounded like a grumpy old man grumbling. The blowing winds shrieked like banshees as raindrops which grew bigger by the second lashed out at a stray dog mercilessly. The poor tri-coloured dog shivered like a leaf. Every now and then, bouts of numbing coldness would shoot through the dog’s body. The dog made a pitiful whining sound. Like its current mood, its tail was drooping so low it touched the stone cold dull-coloured pavement. Harsh rainwater trickled down the dog’s face, interspersed with the hot tears welling in its melancholic eyes. It needed to find shelter soon. Desperately trying to make it way through the heavy downpour, the dog’s silhouette disappeared as if devoured by a raging beast. Till the next time, Elijah Wee, Singapore Photo credit: sarah ... / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution

Here's a really short story about an old house ...              A creak reverberated through the old, ramshackle bungalow, as Frank and Justin opened its door as stealthily as mice. Rumours that this house was haunted was rife in the neighbourhood. Stories of a murderer’s restless soul unrelentingly plotting to kill any resident dwelling in this house had caught the boys’ attention. They decided to prove this rumour to be ludicrous.             Crossing the dusty floor of the huge living room, the boys crept into a nearby vacant room. Frank’s hair stood on end. The room was cluttered with broken pottery. Old, silvery cobwebs, big and small, hung precariously from an old chandelier, stretching down to reach the cabinet and oakwood table beneath it. On the table … lay a bloodstained knife. Utterly shocked, the boys’ initial bravado vanished without a single trace. At that juncture, a low menacing voice echoed through the house, “It seems like you do not believe in the ru