so i dont know if you guys have seen the movie "the mighty" but its about two boys who make friends and one of them is really big but dumb, or he think he is, and the other one is really smart but he cant walk. the essay i have to write should be about one of these boys' past. i adn my friend decided to write about max, the one with no brain, who has seen his mother being killed by his father when he was five. here it is, plz tell me what u think:]
Max's Past
It was a cold and gloomy night; he was only five years old - too young to know what death meant, what madness meant, what loss meant, and on that night he had to witness them all together. He was just 5 years old boy had to witness his mother being killed. Not even in his craziest nightmares he had never seen what he saw that night before his open eyes.
He was sitting on his bed holding his smooth blue blanket close to his chest, pushing his little fingers into his ears; trying to listen to his heavy breaths instead of what was echoing in his ears. He knew it was not the first time and was not going to be the last time; it was a long time that every night he had to crumple beneath his bed and tremble in fear. Large tear drops were careening down his round pale face. He could hear their voices in the other room; the loud noises echoing throughout his ears. They were yelling at each other; having a fight, again. Sliding out of his bed, he slowly walked over towards his door before gradually opened his door. He finally managed the courage to creep out of his room and gaze at what was unfolding before him. His father had his hand on his mother's throat while her hands wrapped around his arm. Max exhaled a mad cry as he watched what was happening before him. His father looked over at Max then back at his wife, who was now in a heap on the floor, but she was still alive. Max uttered another cry in disbelief at what was happening; he loved his mother, how could his father do something so utterly terrible? Where did this horrifying nightmare come from? He simply couldn't believe it. His mother let out a gasp and choked some before attempting to crawl to the phone to get a hold of the police. When his father noticed what she was doing, he jumped of her frail frame and continued his strangling. His fingers wrapped around her slender throat and began to crush her windpipe for good. Max rushed to them, sobbing in fear and anger; he clenched his fingers around his father's arms and tried to pull him away. When soon he learned that his power was nothing against his dad's, he started scratching, biting and kicking to wherever in his dad's body he could reach. He looked at his mother's face that now was turning gray. He looked into her eyes, where he could always see the burning flame of life, but now they were cold and dark. A new and unknown fear flew into his veins: what was happening to her? Why wasn't she screaming anymore? Why wasn't she struggling anymore?
With a mad insane cry, he reached his father's hair and started pulling them as hard as he could. His father, finally, let go of his mother's throat, but before Max wanted to think of it as a victory a cold clumsy hand pound him in the face...
Max's Past
It was a cold and gloomy night; he was only five years old - too young to know what death meant, what madness meant, what loss meant, and on that night he had to witness them all together. He was just 5 years old boy had to witness his mother being killed. Not even in his craziest nightmares he had never seen what he saw that night before his open eyes.
He was sitting on his bed holding his smooth blue blanket close to his chest, pushing his little fingers into his ears; trying to listen to his heavy breaths instead of what was echoing in his ears. He knew it was not the first time and was not going to be the last time; it was a long time that every night he had to crumple beneath his bed and tremble in fear. Large tear drops were careening down his round pale face. He could hear their voices in the other room; the loud noises echoing throughout his ears. They were yelling at each other; having a fight, again. Sliding out of his bed, he slowly walked over towards his door before gradually opened his door. He finally managed the courage to creep out of his room and gaze at what was unfolding before him. His father had his hand on his mother's throat while her hands wrapped around his arm. Max exhaled a mad cry as he watched what was happening before him. His father looked over at Max then back at his wife, who was now in a heap on the floor, but she was still alive. Max uttered another cry in disbelief at what was happening; he loved his mother, how could his father do something so utterly terrible? Where did this horrifying nightmare come from? He simply couldn't believe it. His mother let out a gasp and choked some before attempting to crawl to the phone to get a hold of the police. When his father noticed what she was doing, he jumped of her frail frame and continued his strangling. His fingers wrapped around her slender throat and began to crush her windpipe for good. Max rushed to them, sobbing in fear and anger; he clenched his fingers around his father's arms and tried to pull him away. When soon he learned that his power was nothing against his dad's, he started scratching, biting and kicking to wherever in his dad's body he could reach. He looked at his mother's face that now was turning gray. He looked into her eyes, where he could always see the burning flame of life, but now they were cold and dark. A new and unknown fear flew into his veins: what was happening to her? Why wasn't she screaming anymore? Why wasn't she struggling anymore?
With a mad insane cry, he reached his father's hair and started pulling them as hard as he could. His father, finally, let go of his mother's throat, but before Max wanted to think of it as a victory a cold clumsy hand pound him in the face...