Warriors: Wizards :: Mushrooms: Pigs
The sun shone brightly as I stared off into the distant grass, swaying unrelentingly as the winds lashed upon it. But within the silky surface of the monotonous sea of green, I spotted an interruption – a staccato in the melody of the breeze. From afar, I could see only see a vague outline, but I knew it was approaching me, mindlessly yet fervently as if I were a light and it were a bug.
And so it began.
I tightly wielded my club. I could feel the coarseness of the wood beneath my battle-worn fingers. I lifted the weapon and situated it in front of me, grasping it firmly with both hands. I was a warrior, ordained by the venerable Chief Sitting Bull under the auspices of the proud tribe of Perion; I was not going to disappoint them. Honor above life, and killing enemies above all.
Yeah…
I painfully watched my brother play his third hour of Maplestory, an online interactive game made by Korean programmers where the whole purpose is to defeat monsters to acquire new levels, magic, items – stuff you want, basically. He had just started what was soon to be his utmost craze and had just spoken to Chief Sitting Bull, an elderly man who appeared to be Native American, as he was adorned with elaborate feather-work and his clothing was of tanned skin. He was the typical Native American, you might say, and everything seemed to be in place. Almost too perfectly in place – except for the random black people that sporadically appeared among members of the Perion tribe.
“Why don’t you head south east?” Perion was located in the northwest, and, seeing as he had a lot more training to do, I suggested that he explore the vast world. He headed south towards Henesys, which was a small uneventful, unimp...
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...that it logically looked completely harmless – I was not ready to underestimate it because of my preconceptions. In this world, it was either kill or be killed.
I swung at it with the heavy club, and, within moments, it closed its eyes serenely and dissolved.
Works Cited
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One day as I was walking along through the tall blades of grass, I came upon a massive figure. I thought to myself, oh just another one of these uninteresting creatures, but this one, this one was different. This one was clad with long flowing hair, and other features that did not fit my ordinary image of these marvelous creatures. I quickly realized it was going to place itself on the ground, and I was in its way. I quickly sprung to safety as the massive creature collapsed where I was previously stationed. How rude, I thought, It ruined the perfect flow of the grass. But I did not ponder too much on it as it was commonplace for these large creatures to land here. By the tree. Next to the water.
Rollin, Bernard E.. “The Ascent of Apes — Broadening the Moral Community”. In The Great Ape Project. New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 1993. pp.206-219.
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For this assignment, I chose “The Origin of Modern Humans” by Roger Lewin as my book to
11. Relethford, John. (1990) The Human Species - An Introduction to Biological Anthropology. California: Mayfield Publishing.
This is why he comprehends why no one else spoke. They all felt the same. Every one of them had just conjured up destruction beyond anyone else’s control. It was something no one man could hope to wield single handedly. At the very least, wield it responsibly.
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Blumenbach Johann Friedrich. “On the Natural Variety of Mankind”, (De generis humani varietate, 1795; selections from the translation by Thomas Bendyshe, 1865.)
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TIRAINE, no, RITINAE, no, INAIRET no…..INERTIA! INERTIA! I quickly place the tiles on the board in a moment of victory. Yes, I did just begin my personal statement with a bunch of mumbo jumbo nonexistent words. But this moment, my very first seven letter word in Scrabble, which means an extra fifty points added to your score, accurately represents the joy I feel when playing board games.
Klin, Candyce. “Darwinism as A Cultural Issue” Cedar Crest College, 2 June 2001. Web. 17
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
The sun was still below the horizon but the clouds above the mountains were tainted the color of pomegranates. Around me the shadows seemed empty. I tried not to look into the brush as I walked down the driveway. I had stopped before, looking to see the back of the shadows; staring hard, only to have them retreat from my eyes indefinitely. Invisible birds called from within. Their sound followed me down the driveway and onto the road.