Notes

Descriptive writing
By: Zakarya Senan 10C


I stand there frozen and petrified, I was unable to flinch or blink. The tunnel seems to stretch and shrink before my eyes. An unstable, makeshift gate holds back the wild savage roars of the eager crowd, vultures hungry for the death of me and my loyal companions, we were all standing in a line, chained to each other, left arm to right arm, right leg to left leg. It was as if we were like a strand of DNA, except we weren’t the building blocks of life, we were the building blocks of death, painful and horrifying death. The chains were so constricted around my wrists and ankles I could feel my blood clotting, desperate and eager to oxygenate my hands and feet, there is a single clouded ray of golden light streaming from the middle gap of the gate. The grim, dusty walls are made of many grey blocks and row by row disappearing back into the shadow behind. The sweat on my forehead is ice. No amount of work or training will give me the skill to come out of this arena alive. I accept my imminent death. Behind me, I can hear a man praying for peace. But God is deaf to our prayers in this forsaken arena, the furthest place on Earth from peace. No god can save this poor soul.

The metallic taste of blood swells in my gaping mouth. I can already feel the agonizing pain and the imminent bloodshed that lies behind the doors ready to pounce, slowly the doors creak open ominously and with every centimetre the gates move, the roar from the hungry crowd gets louder and louder. Together we are herded forward for the slaughter, the golden stream widening until it’s meeting the dusty stone brick wall. We were forced….. to take our first steps into the vast arena and were welcomed with a shower of blood red petals. I look up to the high noon sun; it was blinding. The waving red, blue and purple flags in the highest stands of the Colosseum make the sun flicker as they blow in the cooling noon breeze, suddenly my eyes fix on a large rusted iron gate that slowly lifts upward, outflows the back of death at least two dozen black, armour-clad new recruits for the Emperor’s army come gushing out. They stand their information, all in a perfect row. Their gleaming spears are resting on the shoulders and bows are by their sides. Soon the Emperor rises standing proudly on a balcony above the gate, he raises one flat hand. The crowd silences. It was as if he was a god. My breath slows. My hand shivers. My eyes widen as my tears are flowing out. His old clear commanding voice pierces my ears, “let the games begin!” A swarm of callous gladiators rush by me all getting knocked down or murdered by swift black arrows and glittering spears. A well-placed arrow whistles through the air towards me I try to move but my feet are frozen by the cold of fear. The arrow finds its the target. Bright lights flash before my eyes my knees are weak another arrow follows hitting my right shoulder jarring me to my side. Every gladiator who falls to the hand of the emperor is met by a shrill howl from the crowd. I lie there on my side in a river of my blood. I faded from life to death and back again, bloodied sandals march imperiously towards me when I finally open my eyes. When the sandals finally come beside me I feel a swift cold pain in my chest and cold bite of darkness took over, all was eerily quiet. All was peaceful. I am an animal who was sent to the slaughterhouse, I have fallen. I have been euthanized. I have served my purpose to die for the entertainment of the men and women of the Roman empire who will forget all about me by dinner time. I am; and was a nobody.