Short Writing : A Short Story

Sierra Leone has been involved in a humungous amount of absurd human rights violations since 1991 when the civil war erupted. This detailed paper on the book, A Long Way Gone, set in Sierra Leone, will create interest by summarizing the memoir through descriptive examples and text on symbolism and imagery. The author of this memoir A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier is Ishmael Beah, it's difficult to believe that this is a true and harsh story. You will be learning about Ishmael's resilience and the horrible struggles he faced as a child soldier, while somehow continuing to have hope. Ishmael Beah, 12 at the beginning of this memoir, unexpectedly gets recruited into a time consuming war over blood diamonds, against the rebels as a young child. Ishmael is at a loss, since with his own eyes he viewed not only his loving family, but his whole village as it was horrifically torn down by the dangerous rebels. Ishmael is not physically lonely during the book, but he is emotionally

“No. Not now. The garrison soldiers are listening to us.” my brother said walking in our private room. “Anyways I’m not letting my little brother get in trouble.” he said in with a happy grin. My brother is the leader of the group in our area. “I know it isn’t good to wait but we need to act in secrecy.” Then something was happening is the center of town while we were walking to our homes.

During the train ride the NKVD gave the prisoner food rations mainly bread and water. Also during the train ride Andrius found a colorful shiny rock. Mrs. Rimas a Liberian holds the rock a say she the queen of the cattle cart, everyone laughed except for the lady who give birth because her baby died. It took weeks to get to the labor camps, but when they finally step off the train Lina met Kretzsky a NKVD officar of the work camp. Once Lina and her family, enter inside their hunt they saw Ulyushka inside who demand debt for saying inside the hunt. Even worst, in the night Lina saw Andrius mother inside a nice comfortable NKVD house putting on makeup. Lina thought Andrius and her mother are part of the NKVD, but his mother is being forced to be a prostitute. After she saw Andrius mother, she run into Andrius she rudely told him he part of the Soviet. Andrius heart-broken told her his mother is a prostitute to earn food ration for him and told her he felt guilty for it. Weeks later Jonas starts getting scurvy from not eating fruits and

The days of prosperity and peace are long gone; Each day is a struggle. She tried to stay positive, even though she couldn’t understand why it had to be her. Why did she have to suffer? Why did she have to put her life on the line, venturing through enemy territory to retrieve food and other supplies? All of this hard work to try to resolve the war, but it was no use. She was fed up. She clenched her fists, and her veins popped from her forehead. The woman who was once upbeat and lively was dead. The faint wrinkles under her eyes turned into bags; and her cuts never went away. Nigeria was now in shambles. There was no more that could be done. She thought about all of the fun

“I know this is scary, but it will all be over soon. Zachowaj spokój, Stay calm.” Sylwester’s soothing voice had annihilated the fear Zofia had. Mikołaj jumped up suddenly and sprinted up the filthy stairs, coming back with the few blankets the family had. He began to set what looked like a

He shook the wardrobe apprehensively causing it to collapse. This was bad. Very bad. I panicked as I heard multiple footsteps rapidly move toward. I would've told Doran to hid under the small bed bu t the problem was he couldn't walk unless I carried him. It was too late for that anyway. The Nazi soldiers kicked open the bedroom door and grabbed Doran and I by the necks of our shirts. The heat rushed over all me as I struggled rigorously to get out of his grasp. “You're not going anywhere!”the soldier said. My father suddenly came from behind and yelled in a demanding tone, “Stop! Just stop it!” No, no, my father is the wold who has to stop. He can't be doing this unless he wanted to get himself killed. The Nazis began laughing hysterically which disturbed so much and gave me anxiety that I started to shed tears. “Kneel down!” one of the soldiers ordered, his tone full of domination. However, my Father refused his command. “I said kneel down! Or I kill your whole family without

Only 22 hours ago, I had been serving the North Korean Kim Jong Un, sent on a secret mission to spy on the American government. I had been given false papers and passports as well as a satellite phone. Now, I lay here starved and sleep deprived, at the hands of my captors. The smell of the salty breeze brings back happy memories of my childhood, soon only to be drowned out by the footsteps of heavy(most likely armed) men. As the door creaks, I snap out of my daze, only to realize, I am in an interrogation facility.

“Let it begin,” The grim faced man declared as a bony male, covered in grimy rags, was dragged into view. The prisoner had cuts and bruises all over his face and body, showing evident signs that he was thoroughly tortured. The captive man stared blankly off into space, his mind and body both beaten to a pulp, then he started weeping knowing that his life would be coming to an end. He cried out to his family, but was returned with silence and expressionless faces. There were no tears shed for the poor, innocent man when he was shot repeatedly. If his family felt even a slight tinge of remorse for the “criminal” they too would be executed in the same fashion. This is what is happening in North Korean camps, the enslavement, the torture, and

The prisoner on the very left began crying, sobbing like a child. The Captain was not swayed by his weeping. She continued. “There is one bullet in this gun,” she said, overwhelming the faint cacophony of gunfire that murmured in the background. “One by one, I will point this gun at your heads. One by one, I will pull the trigger. All you have to do to stop me, is tell me the location of your nuclear devices.”

Women were forced to become combatants. She and the other girls were given guns, “we learnt how to shoot them and killed people.” In January 2002, the war ended, almost as suddenly as it had begun. The war had started with a group of young people challenging deep seated corruption among the ruling elite had genenemted into one of Africa’s most bloody modern conflicts 50,000 deaths, hundreds of thousands displaced, and thousands more left as amputee’s coup had followed counter-coup, and it was only the intervention of a large UN Force backed by Britain that finally brought the fighting to an end.

Gestapo officers interrogated the group responsible young women and gave the order that all went down from the bus. At that moment, I told Jacques (Jacob) to be ready to jump out of the bus that would carry his and Ivette bag. ( Leah) I grabbed Ivette and my backpack, stretched my hand opened the back door and jumped the three together with Prince, who also jumped. We ran over the road edge and went through the brush to descend the cliff. Only when we’re already at the cliff edge the two men of the Gestapo seeing us. As they were in the middle of the interior of the bus, it’s impossible for them to come out and run behind us. The militiamen unable to run behind us either shut the air for us to stop. The cliff had quite a lot of weeds and bigger rocks behind which we could hide there. Leading the way Prince walked forward showing us the way. It thus walked a while, in the middle of the rocks, below the noise from the river water. We reached the river, but need to be careful since there we’re exposed, just the sky covered us, and a militia patrol possible detects us. I discovered a cave and there I decided to camp there with my brothers, Prince and myself, at least we’re hidden, protected from rain and

It had been more than a week since Kim II Young saw his prison buddies. He was tired and hungry. Finally, he broke ground and saw the trees and the crisp night. The yells in the distance indicated that a search was on and the soldiers were looking for him. Instinct took over and he raced into a shivering cave. The distant yells,

Fast forward to August 27, 1993, flying aboard a C130, landing in Mogadishu, for the first real test of my moral foundation. Upon settling into Sword Base I assumed tower watch and overheard radio traffic regarding a Somali who had breached the perimeter. Frantically, I heard the man crawling through a hole in the wall below my position, his escape hampered by his tattered clothes as

I will always remember that night in 1974 when hope turned to fear with the execution of former Prime Minister Endelkachew Makonnen and members of his government. For the past 20 years, I have tried to put to rest that time and those events -- that fascination with danger, with living in places of great risk. In Ethiopia, danger and risk were coupled with a tinge of guilt: That as a foreigner, I was not a target of the revolution; that I got off easy and therefore must continually prove if only to myself that I am not a coward; that I will not run from danger as I had by leaving my friends behind, friends who disappeared in the night.

While I have much enjoyed my stay with Uncle I must insist that I come home early. The problem lies not with Uncle or my health but with the atmosphere of the Congo itself. As I sit on the terrace of Uncles beautiful home overlooking the small outpost he resides in I see only despair and sorrow in many of the blacks who work and live here. Few are joyful and though Uncle tells me not to worry for them that they are happy and content in their work, I feel can’t help but think differently. Their eyes are dim and sunken in, their skin is tight over their bones and their backs are hunched from hours of labor. How can they have joy though whenever second of their day is occupied with work? They are all up well before me, and you know how early I rise, and they go to sleep well after dark. The whole atmosphere of the Congo is somber, joyless and out right depressing. You would not believe the horrors that I witnessed within just the first few days of my travel. They were truly gruesome and I can scarcely bear to write them down. However, so that you may get a clear picture of why I believe it is in my best interest to come home, I will endeavor to show, as best I can in my own words, the horrors of the Congo.