Travel Literature: A Bombing Ground.

Part I 

I find that Old Glory: A Voyage down the Mississippi to be the most effective out of the rest because of the diction that the writer uses was able to engage me throughout the whole extract. 

The diction, was as if he was writing a thriller, and he wasn't really concentrating on his car or mood, what he really was thinking about was the landscape, "the white-painted farms set back behind good fences, each one with its grain silo topped by an aluminum cone like a witch's hat, the long sweep of freshly harvested valleys reduced to hog's bristle". This helps me imagine the environment he was driving through.

The thought of no one but himself was on the road, seemed suspicious. At first, I thought that he was on a somewhat busy road, but when the first line had said, "the road was empty - not a truck or a car in miles," it seemed like he wasn't welcomed into the place he is travelling to.

Part II

On the 15th of April 2013, an ambulance blared its horns in the city of Boston. I had laid inside, staring at the blank ceiling, with my mother and a doctor by my side. The pain in my right arm and my right leg was excruciatingly painful. I couldn't help it, but I cried. My mother was staring at me, with horror and tears in her eyes. I could hear people outside crying like there's no tomorrow. I wished it could all stop.

After 30 minutes, I was rushed straight into a room, which we all call, an ICU. I saw my mother pushing away the nurses and she ran towards me, only to be caught in the doctor's arms. I heard my mother shouting and screaming at the doctor, so she could follow me inside the cream coloured room. She kept screaming and I could still hear her, even when the doors were shut tight.

Mother... I had thought while crying out salty tears, stop... I have heard enough shouting, screaming and crying today, so please, just stop.

The next second later, I saw the world darken, the few hours of surgery was about to commence.

After two weeks, my limbs on the right were still not healed, the doctor had warned me about the third-degree burns, saying that it would take more than a month to heal. I sat on my bed, thinking about that afternoon, and how frightful it was, and I could still remember the bright light, flashing in my bloodshot eyes.

Three people were killed and there were 264 casualties, and that is including me. I was glad to watch the police arresting of the two brothers that planned the 'party', they both deserved it.

"Dear, do you need help? Are you able to walk?" My mother would call me from the kitchen.

"I'm fine!" I would reply, usually.

I still remember that sickening day, especially the horrible sounds that echoed through my ears.

The 15th of April 2013, was the day I nearly lost my life.