Journal entry

Remember last week when I had a bunch of photos out on the table? I chose the one of the man running. Here is a made-up journal entry from his perspective:



My muscles screamed as my legs flew over the pavement. My arms punched the air, and my jaw tightened. My throat craved water and my lungs craved oxygen. I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

To my left, a small boy with a balloon and a girl with an ice cream cone. Their mother with a smile and a wave. I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

I could hear the crackling of a loudspeaker. A man's deep voice echoed over the lake. I was getting close to the finish line! I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

I glanced at my wrist. Time was moving too fast (would I beat my record?) and too slow (would this path ever end?). A young man shouted, "Go! Go! Go!" I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

Ages passed—or was it seconds? The finish line beckoned. The triumph I felt as my chest tore through the finish line banner was exuberance I had never known before. Exhaustion mixed with satisfaction—the greatest joy in all the world.

British "humour"

On vacation in London, I toured Westminster Abbey—a beautiful and historic building. Two friendly guards outside the Abbey were chatting with each other and with tourists. I wanted to take a photo of the guards in front of the Abbey, but I figured I had better ask them for permission to do so.

“Could I take a picture of the Abbey with you two in it?” I asked. The guards chuckled and began to walk into the building.

“You said you wanted a picture of the Abbey with us in it!” they chortled. Ahh, British “humour.”

The London Bridge

While we were vacationing in London, my friends and I wanted to find the London Bridge. We found the Thames River, where we knew the London Bridge is located. We walked halfway across a mangy, little bridge to look down the river to see if we could find the London Bridge. There it was! We took pictures and commented on its beauty.

Later, we discovered that the bridge we saw was in fact the Tower Bridge. As it turns out, the bridge that we had been standing on at the time—that mangy, little bridge—was the London Bridge! Go figure.

Posting your writing

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