Clang Smash, Smash, Boom !-Personal Narrative

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Clang, smash, boom! “Why does it have to be so congested?” Omi got up terrified. The room was shrouded in darkness,so dark that it appeared as if someone had poured liquid pitchblende into the room. The only light that dazzled his eyes came from a rectangular screen where his photos were arranged and several emoticons and text greeted his bewildered eyes. It was then he realised that he had fallen asleep while chatting on ‘Facebook’. But something else startled him. By the faint white and blue light coming from screen, he noticed two burly figures duelling with a lance. Omi jumped out of his bed and switched on the light. What he saw made his eyes pop out of his sockets. Was he dreaming? As a singular shriek escaped his mouth, General Edward…show more content…
so very different. Hitler, Louis XV and Napoleon Bonaparte found themselves adjusting their collars and frills and carefully parting their hair to cover the baldness just to get a few more “likes”. Lincoln and Mother Teresa started on a heated argument on whose picture would look better on the social media’s global platform. In fact, they all sat addicted to that very blue and white screen they had all condemned. Meanwhile, Omi had managed to free himself. He raced to his history book and found that the pages of History had rewritten themselves. He opened to Chapter No. 13 American Civil War (13) With the no “great emancipation”, there was no freedom from slavery. Suddenly in the first scarlet and saffron beam of dawn he recognised some black ‘niggers’ or slaves carrying coals outside his house. He shrieked. He turned to Modern History. The name of Mother Teresa had just vanished from all the thirty pages he had been asked to memorise. He looked out of his window. The ‘Missionaries of Charity’, near his home had vanished. The spick and span avenue
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