June Camp

June Camp was rather interesting. Obviously far more fun than March Camp. However, I've already posted my views on the SJAB Forums so I shan't do it here. Instead, I'm just going to think of something to blog about next session, and look for a new picture. Not that I don't like this one, of course. This pic's my favourite of all that I've chosen, really =)

----------------------------------------------------------------

After much bugging by people *Namely Gid, Juz, and Mike*, I decided to edit my earlier writing a bit.

A raindrop fell, quick and sudden, on my streaks of hair. Looking up, the skies slowly turned grey. A few students were running off back into the school compounds due to the rain. Evading nature like that; I knew better. Besides, they have umbrellas too, right? I saw a few more, coming from the field, complaining about how the rain had ruined their game and such. I stared at them silently, and took out my umbrella.

The sky continued to turn grey. And the rain began its descent on the land below.

I looked at life around me: These trees, this grass, these flowers. I recognized one of them to be the iris. Irises thrived in the rain, last time I remembered. I suppose I was the only one who knew anything about such the unrecognized flower.

The iris was a slightly pale purple, and remained steady, upright, even in the pressurizing rain. It stood up by itself, never falling to the will of nature. Yet it remained soft to the touch, and delicate as ever. Maybe this was why all bowed down to its true glory – even the rose. Perhaps such was the flower that none dare disrespect in rain. Indeed, the ceremony in royal purple was a sight to behold.

I looked now at the rose, and took it. Its thorns could now be seen, and the bloodstained sword now showed its true colours. The now dethroned flower, no longer as glorious and beautiful as originally, now drooped, awaiting for its death. As its last wish, I threw it on the roadside. In a manner of seconds a car came over and ran over it. The petals were now scattered along the roadside, the thorns spreaded out, the life destroyed. Slowly the rain washed the remains of a once-magnificent life into the drain.

I knew definitely that even if the rose had not been destroyed by Man, it would have been slain by the harsh and unforgiving side of Nature anyway. The iris continued to stay upright, never faltering.

----------------------------

Still isn't too good in my opinion, but a slight improvement from last time. Comments as usual are definitely highly appreciated.