The following should be read hysterically dramatic. Or normal. Normals fine too, really. But. It has to be read with a hushed British accent. xD it affects tone.
'Twas a darkest of dark nights. Rain, drenching the deserted roads. The moon, shadowed by ebony clouds. There was not a single speck of light, anywhere. Till I saw a tiny shack. It tousled with the wind's flow. I hurried to slip in.
What I saw was stunning. A group of the village's poor people had gathered. I repelled back with disgust. Their clothes were lifeless and filthy, I knew they wouldn't keep a person the slightest bit warm. Their shoes, reeking with foul scents. Their faces, unshaven and clinging with dried mud. I felt rude, as I was wearing a silk nightgown. I had been asleep when the shaking began.
No one knew what it was. Something evil had crawled up from the Earth's core and shook our planet apart. All my good silver pots And pans clashed together, books fell off shelves. It seemed everyone was afraid their house would fall so they went somewhere else. Of course, I was too late to follow them. I needed to save my journals and pictures. When I was done and peeked outside, no one was left. So I had ran, from roof to roof to keep dry. Until I found this little shack.
I came back to reality. The poor people, as unlucky and hungry they could be, were smiling. They were huddled around their tiny bonfire, singing. Smiling. Laughing. Even the blind man was grinning, showing crooked teeth.
Seeing this gave me hope. We rich people are never enough happy. We always crave more, and don't appreciate what we already have. Yet these poor folk are overlooking people's flaws and are happy with what they have. I realized, I had nothing to offer them. All i had brought was my pictures and journals. There was a little girl huddled in the corner, looked starved. I sighed sadly.
I would of done what I usually do. Accepting the situation. Going back to your place in the world. But I didn't. Something sparked in my eyes. Something glowed on my insides. I dropped everything I was holding and ran out in the rain, barefoot. I sprinted towards my home. I stopped to think, in the middle of the lifeless street. When I was first running to the shack, I had thought the raining was drenching, cold and hard. I had thought the ground was too rough for my dainty feet. Now, I loved the rain. I loved the grippy surface of the cobbled road. I spun and twirled, dancing freely in the gleeful storm. My hair slapped the skin on my neck and face. I screamed. It wasn't a scream of terror or surprise. It was a scream of joy. I realized, I had never been free. Had always thought I was unlucky. What a selfish coward I was!
I located my house quickly. Rushing in, I gathered as much food as I could and clothes of mine. I stuffed it all in a large trash bag. I hauled it out until I came to the shack. A few children and one adult were standing outside.
The little girl, previously huddled in a corner, twirled her braids and giggled. "You're not a very good dancer." I laughed with her and agreed.
Once I was inside, I spread out all the food, and gave clothing to everyone. Their happiness made my heart rise within me. They were eating bread, now in warm clothes, and telling stories. I wondered why the stories sounded so familiar. With surprise, I saw that they were reading my journals, and looking through my albums. They smiled at everything. "You are very pretty," an old woman said to me, pointing her finger at a picture. That picture was actually one I thought to be unflattering. The more I looked at it, I liked it. Appreciate everything, I repeated.
"What's your name? You have been very gracious to us." A teenage boy asked, bowing his head.
I replied confidently, "Meelanya."
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