26th December, 2004- My sever-year-old daughter was swept away right to begin with me. I was plaiting the last knot of the red ribbon that matched her dress. The waves leapt at her standardized she was the prey of a hungry tiger. She made unvoiced slaps on the water trying to thrust the wild beast. As she cried turn up for me the monster made its final attack. Maya took abundant gulps, then gasps... the crimson ribbon faded to a sickish red and became a red blur until she was there - no more. Being enveloped in dark void, I couldnt rely on my sight, exactly in my sense of sound, as I track Mayas echoes of desperation phone call out for me. The echoes became fainter until her cries were lost in the pandemonium. Though I hear her no more, I could smooth touch sensation her presence; I knew she was there, somewhere. I was however breathing to see her again, listening for her to call for me, pull my lowering feet without losing hope. I fumbled through every crimson go of framework I came across with my scorched fingers. I dementedly darted my eyeball for her and shouted her name in desperation. Two days, dickens weeks, close to two months went by, visions of crimson haunted me; I listened only to her voice, skin perceptiveness her presence somewhere around.

But, the moment I apothegm her, my creative activity came crumbling down. She lay motionless, wrapped in white, her lips did not dismantle to susurration even one last word, and she did not feel my touch. That was the day, I stopped believing in what I saw, heard and snarl - in myself. Living for me was worse than dying. Losing Maya was losing everything; it killed every part of me that was al ive. I was zombie... ! If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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