When I look at a zero, I see many things. I see a person's mouth wide open. I see a bowl with fish in it, swimming round and round. But I never see my face in it. Never, ever, Trevor, Shever see my face.
There once was a little girl who never once stopped dreaming of her life once she grew up. A prefect husband, no more money problems, never going hungry, a beautiful daughter. But when the little girl told her mother of her dreams of the future she would always say "It will never be perfect you will end up as a maid and mop the floors like I do!" The girl never lost courage through the years but her parents got ill and she was left to tend to her younger siblings but as she got older she was accepted into a great school where she met a lovely man who loved her so much and the rest was history she was a doctor and invented medicine for the ill
One night, Jeff and his friends John and Bob were walking in a graveyard.A black figure flashed behind him. John went back to see what it was. When jeff looked back, he didn’t see John. He kept walking. Then he saw the black figure from the corner of his eye. He looked in front of him; he did not see bob. He ran but the black figure stopped in jeff’s path. He ran toward the exit. The black figure grew. Then his friends jumped out of a cloak.They were the black figure. They fell to the ground laughing.
I trudged into my gloomy basement on Halloween night, and I saw furniture floating around the basement. Then I ran to get my parents, and they came sprinting down the stairs. When we came into the basement, the furniture was still floating. A few minutes later, a ghoul materialized out of thin air. My parents and I shrieked from fright. Then my parents ran for their lives, and I decided to face the ghoul myself. I grabbed my powerful Nerf gun. I loaded my Nerf gun and shot the ghoul. He fell down and died. I shouted for joy.
Some men wish to go on vacation. Some wish for a boss who would give time off to explore, to get out of the same old daily lifestyle. And those are the things I’d wish for, too. I’d wish to see the sights of the world, to see culture and nature and a pathway of history unfold in front of my eyes. Yet I cannot. I cannot simply because of chance, some unforeseen gene. Because of chance, I cannot see. I cannot see the source of the birds’ song. I cannot see the tree that lets its leaves rustle with the breeze, I cannot see a simple smile from a friend. So no, I do not wish to see the world. All I feel the urge to see is one presence. All I crave to see in reality, not imagination, is the face of my love. My love whose voice is the only thing I know, whose words shape her being. Yet every time she asks me as I wake up if I can detect the magnificent morning rays beaming through window, I open my eyes to say, “No.”