Pretty Much The Final Draft: College Essay
Cry of the Fallen Leaves
The radio fizzes on and my blurred eyes come to focus on the numbers 6:45. Coming out of hibernation, I open the door to the sound of a sizzling stove and a bustling family of four. In the corner of the filled room, the calendar clearly depicts October 12, 2009. Through the clear glass, blazing red leaves fell to the floor and gathered in piles. It seemed to be a typical beautiful fall morning for a 12 year old boy. My parents have breakfast on the table by the time I get out of the bathroom and my grandpa comes gliding into the driveway on his bicycle; the vehicle that has brought me to nearly every latitude in the world. I gather all my belongings and pull up the huge green wooden garage door to free my blue phoenix bicycle. Just before my grandpa and I head off to my school, he tells me to wait and heads into the garden.
Amongst the tall grasses and flourishing plants and vegetables lies a steel trap. My mom would always complain about how birds and squirrels would invade her garden, but I’ve never seen her take action against them, except for this one steel trap. My grandpa reached for this iron prison and lifted it high into the air. Within the prison lied one prisoner. It had eyes as black as tar and a coat of gray fur. Simply put, an innocent, starving American gray squirrel. I marveled at its existance and its presence. It seemed to be trying to say something… L..t m.. ..ut? I stood there speechless and my wandering gaze was broken when my grandpa took out a large, white plastic barrel filled to the brim with clear water. Within a blink of an eye, my grandpa submerged the prison underwater and the prisoner let out a terrifying cry.
Never in my life had I ever seen something die before my eyes, and definitely not in this tortuous manner. Bubbles of air rose to the top and the white barrel turned black. Within a few minutes, my grandpa lifted the prison once again into the air as to inspect his prisoner. Giving the cage a violent shake, the prisoner once again let out cries in fear of its life. Resubmerged into the water, that was the last gasp of air that squirrel ever had.
I must become the protector of the weak. College will be the gateway towards power and responsibility that I must fully take advantage of in order to protect the less fortunate. The thought of not being able to save a life that you are capable of saving is dreadful. The feeling of fulfillment comes from helping others in need and I long for that sensation. By going to college, I want to develop a future where I can save meaningful lives.
Cry of the Fallen Leaves
The radio fizzes on and my blurred eyes come to focus on the numbers 6:45. Coming out of hibernation, I open the door to the sound of a sizzling stove and a bustling family of four. In the corner of the filled room, the calendar clearly depicts October 12, 2009. Through the clear glass, blazing red leaves fell to the floor and gathered in piles. It seemed to be a typical beautiful fall morning for a 12 year old boy. My parents have breakfast on the table by the time I get out of the bathroom and my grandpa comes gliding into the driveway on his bicycle; the vehicle that has brought me to nearly every latitude in the world. I gather all my belongings and pull up the huge green wooden garage door to free my blue phoenix bicycle. Just before my grandpa and I head off to my school, he tells me to wait and heads into the garden.
Amongst the tall grasses and flourishing plants and vegetables lies a steel trap. My mom would always complain about how birds and squirrels would invade her garden, but I’ve never seen her take action against them, except for this one steel trap. My grandpa reached for this iron prison and lifted it high into the air. Within the prison lied one prisoner. It had eyes as black as tar and a coat of gray fur. Simply put, an innocent, starving American gray squirrel. I marveled at its existance and its presence. It seemed to be trying to say something… L..t m.. ..ut? I stood there speechless and my wandering gaze was broken when my grandpa took out a large, white plastic barrel filled to the brim with clear water. Within a blink of an eye, my grandpa submerged the prison underwater and the prisoner let out a terrifying cry.
Never in my life had I ever seen something die before my eyes, and definitely not in this tortuous manner. Bubbles of air rose to the top and the white barrel turned black. Within a few minutes, my grandpa lifted the prison once again into the air as to inspect his prisoner. Giving the cage a violent shake, the prisoner once again let out cries in fear of its life. Resubmerged into the water, that was the last gasp of air that squirrel ever had.
I must become the protector of the weak. College will be the gateway towards power and responsibility that I must fully take advantage of in order to protect the less fortunate. The thought of not being able to save a life that you are capable of saving is dreadful. The feeling of fulfillment comes from helping others in need and I long for that sensation. By going to college, I want to develop a future where I can save meaningful lives.