My final draft of my "Slice of Life"- revised (261 words long)

Goldali Danberg Biggs English

4-14-15 Period:1

   

About the Author

Hello, my name is Goldali Danberg Biggs and I enjoy to write creative pieces. Last year my writing skills were levels below what I can do now, I have learned to use proper citation and figurative language. I think that I have improved greatly from last year to the end of this year. Especially in writing about things that I have heard or read, this is mostly because of “Slice of Life” writing. That is why I chose to “show off” one of (in my opinion) my best slice of life pieces.. chose this piece  specifically for my final, because I think that it shows my creativity as a growing writer. I think this is a better pieces of mine, because it shows my skills in using figurative language.  The first time I wrote this piece I thought it was really good, but coming back to it for my final I had to make some changes. For example I asked some of my friends to read it over and make comments on the piece, this helped me understand in the reader's point of view of the piece. After reading over the comments I changed the sections in which they were directing. this piece was also too short for the assignment, but by doing the corrections it grew in size, making it eligible for the final. During this past school year I have learned a lot about figurative language, and how to use it properly. This slice of life shows my improvement on using figurative language from the beginning of the year to now.

The little Red Wagon

The smooth grass slides through my toes as I  slowly trudge up the side of the  little hill. Still early, the morning dew still rests on the tip of the grass and the sun just peaking out from behind the tall trees. The leaves, left from fall crackle under my bare feet. The rusted little wagon slips out of my grasp, falling, falling. A fast flowing stream is in the future for my little wagon.  I race down the hill, tripping on twigs and stone. Trying to catch my wagon, like a policeman chasing a robber. The wagon now only two inches from the cold, rocky stream. I stop, catching my breath knowing that I will not make it in time to stop my wagon. Panting as a dog after a long walk, on a hot summer day. Watching,  and waiting as a cat does a fish in a bowl. The little red wagon does not stop, faster and faster it goes. I try again to catch it, the wagon turns away from the stream in it’s path. No log or stone there to block it’s way, as if the wagon knows not to fall in. As a human does, knowing not to swim in an ocean full of sharks. My little wagon just barely passes by the rushing stream.  I stop in my path, just watching my wagon slide down the hill, as if it was running home. All the way home, the wagon goes, all the way home.