This is another one of those paragraphs I write for my English class. I know some of the vocabulary is too fancy for the piece, but I had to fit the words in somewhere! It also has a dark theme, which is different from my previous paragraphs. Enjoy!
She peered out anxiously from the shadows. She heard loud, angry voices in the distance. The men were chasing after her brother, who was acting as a decoy while she escaped. Suddenly a gun shot followed by a bloodcurdling scream split the air. She ran, her feet pounding hard on the cement. Tears and mud streaked her face as she turned the corner. It started raining, adding to the gloomy milieu. Her legs burned with pain as the rain drenched her. Her wet hair whipped her as she ran furiously, never slowing. Her brother was dead. A calamitous accident had killed her parents just a year ago, and now she was on the run, escaping the cause of her pain. The only family she had left now was her aunt, who was shiftless but extremely cruel. Her aunt's goons we after her, while her aunt basked in her own filth back in her luxurious mansion. She turned into a deserted alleyway and ducked behind a trash can. It was raining heavily now, and she pulled some old newspapers around her to try to keep warm. She thought of how her mother used to be so pert and positive, but now her memory only brought sadness and regret. She tried to distract herself by digging through the trash can, but she found nothing to appease her voracious appetite. She leaned against the cold wall in despair. She slid to the ground, fondly remembering her parents and her brother, the warm meals they used to share, and the stories her father often regaled them with. Her brother's strange quirks used to drive her crazy, but she missed them now that he was gone. All at once, she snapped out of her reminiscing when she heard a loud yell. Deep voices approached. Tall figures blocked the dim light from the street. She held her breath and pressed herself against the wall. These men were dangerous, especially because they were brave. It wasn't gallantry; rather it was a fear of nothing. As soon as they were after someone a long chase always ensued. Their victims never escaped. The men advanced into the alley. She froze, listening. Then she saw them. They stepped in front of her. She heard one of the men cackle menacingly. They were quite overbearing, and she shrank back in fear. The accident flashed through her mind. The smiles, the laughter, then, the next moment, the crash and the blood. The tears began afresh, flowing down her cheeks, fast and warm. She was going to avenge her parents death. She stood up. A man fired at her. She ducked, and the bullet tore through the wall behind her. She raised her fist and punched the man closest to her, hard. He reeled back in pain. The men fired their guns, She grabbed the metal lid of the trash can, and, using it as a shield, kicked someone in the shin. She thrashed and flailed angrily, hitting everything in her way. She knocked the revolver out of one goon's hand and drove him to the ground. Suddenly, all was silent. She gazed upon the dead men around her. Then she turned on her heel and walked out into the street.
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