Collection of Narrative and descriptive writing

A Great Adventure

The man in grey moustache and cowboy hat tried his best to clutch onto the rope with his right hand. He swayed like a daffodil in the chilly afternoon breeze and the next moment with his arms flung out to his sides he would resemble a bird enjoying sweet freedom flying in the blue sky. But it was not to be the ending of a fairy tale. Within seconds, I saw the man thrashed to the ground at breakneck speed. Then the four-legged beast raised its forelimbs five feet into the air and the hundred pound killing machine came crashing down on the poor man's chest. I heard a bone-cracking sound and the man lay flat with his head dug deep in the mud completely null and void. Four rescue members rushed to the spot and carried him away in a stretcher. Now, it was my turn to take on the challenge- bull-fighting was no child's play!

Unfortunately I was not the only one to witness this terrible spectacle. My mother was also present there. And guess what she did after seeing this ... well she did not even have the chance to deter me from doing what I intended to do - she just fainted on her seat. It was not the first time I had decided to embark on such a 'foolish' expedition. I had abseiled on some of the highest mountain ridges in the world, I had gone bungee jumping, I had even tried my luck on a thin piece of rope hung a hundred feet above the ground and ... uhm I can not think of any more right now. Why do I do all these? Well, adrenaline rush is not enough to explain the death-defying urge that I have for nail-biting adventure. It is not very surprising that my friends and relatives have often praised me with phrases like 'Are you mad?', 'You lack some serious brain cells' etc. but they have not stopped me. What is the wisdom behind restricting yourself from having 'fun' when life is so short? And my life is meant to be even shorter because I have a brain tumour. If death was already on its way, why not try to rush towards it and have the pleasure of dodging it every time I come out victorious from the dark dungeon of death.

The gigantic beast now puffed out smoke from its huge nostrils and stared at me with bloodshot eyes, ready to tear me apart. It was with a lump in my throat that I got to his back presently confined within a small chamber to resist any movement. My guide fitted a piece of plastic to my mouth to ensure that I do not lose all my teeth by the end of the ride. He patted me on the back and said, "Whatever you do, do not let go off the rope!" This piece of advice did not seem to pacify me at all. My heart beat at the rate of noughts and my feet ran cold. I closed my eyes, anticipating the worst. All of a sudden, the door creaked open and all hell broke loose. The bull started jumping for its life. Talking about taking the bumps on your back- I felt my spine twitch and bend in a way I never thought it could. My stomach jerked up and down and my heart nearly lept out of my mouth. Still I did not let go, "C'mon you beat, is that all you got??" I shouted. I rode the bull for an ephemeral 10 seconds, or so it seemed to me before I slipped from the saddle and fell to the ground. Miraculously, the lethal hooves of the bull missed me by a few inches as it stampeded away from me. Covered in mud and sticky perspiration, I rose to my feet with the huge crowd giving me a standing ovation that included my panicked, yet smiling mother. It was a risky task but it was nothing less than a great adventure.