My heart pounded as I made my way upwards. A mixture of sand and debris whirled in front of me like an impenetrable sheet of darkness. I blinked my eyes but only succeeded in making my vision more blurry. Tired and weary, I sat down longing for a glass of water to bring solace to my parched lips, but in vain. Suddenly, I heard a motor in the distance. I jumped to my feet, forgetting how tired I was. That sound, was only and could be only the sound of a rescue helicopter. I quickly tore of my shirt and taking my cigarette lighter set it on fire. It was my only way of attracting their attention. As the flame burnt closer to my fingertips, I wondered would I ever get out of here alive or would I be left as a skeleton left in the dust, lost and forgotten. My name is Sally Debrov, and I am a journalist at the “Wingtons” Newspaper. My main job is to capture the disastrous aspects of any occurrence, and therefore I am mostly required to go to war zones and areas where natural disasters have occurred. One day, my boss, the chief editor asked me to meet her, urgently. Since I was used to these abrupt meetings, I did not think much of it. Whistling gaily, I walked into her office with an air of ………… I sat down on one of the old, cracked and worn out chairs and waited patiently. Soon enough I heard the flurry of footsteps, and my boss entered accompanied by an elderly man. A look of perplexity crossed my face as i hurriedly got up, as I was sure I recognized that face. My boss gave me a warm smile as she introduced me to our guest, “Sally this is Mr. Farid. Alkazim, the President of Saudi Arabia.” That was when it hit me, I had seen this man on the newscast about the war and drought in Saudi Arabia, and that was also when I realized, that this time my journalism assignment was not going to be the simple task I had first thought it to be. Looking up I realized I was expected to give an answer, I quickly extended my hand and with a warm smile replied, “Well, Mr Farid it...
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