The writer’s plans for his son was to be beat in his class.

The writer’s was dissatisfied with his son’s performance because his son was not just trying hard enough

The writer had a broken home

The writer was maltreated by his step mother

The writer was optimistic about life

The writer enrolled his children in one of the best school

The writer gave his children proper upbringing

Noun phrase

It modifies the verb phrase “had spared”


The whispering woods had always held an air of mystery, their dense canopy casting shadows that seemed to dance with secrets. As dusk descended, I ventured into their depths, guided only by the pale glow of the moon. It was a night like any other—or so I thought.

The crunch of fallen leaves beneath my feet echoed through the silent forest, each step carrying me deeper into its embrace. The familiar scent of damp earth and pine filled my senses, comforting in its familiarity. But as I walked, an eerie feeling crept over me, as if unseen eyes watched from the darkness.

I quickened my pace, eager to reach the clearing where I often sought solace under the stars. But tonight, the path seemed to twist and turn, leading me further from my destination. Panic fluttered in my chest as I realized I was lost in the labyrinth of trees.

With each passing moment, the woods grew darker, the shadows closing in around me like a vice. I called out, my voice swallowed by the oppressive silence. Fear gnawed at my resolve, but I pressed on, determined to find my way out.

Suddenly, a soft rustling sound broke the stillness, followed by a whispered voice carried on the wind. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears as I strained to listen. The words were indistinct, a haunting melody that sent shivers down my spine.

I stumbled forward, the darkness pressing in on all sides. Shapes lurked in the shadows, twisting and shifting as if alive. I reached out blindly, my fingers brushing against rough bark and tangled underbrush.

Just when I thought I could bear it no longer, a faint glimmer of light appeared in the distance. Hope surged within me as I raced toward it, each step bringing me closer to freedom. But as I emerged into the clearing, my relief turned to horror.

The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light illuminating a scene of chaos. Trees lay splintered and broken, their branches twisted into grotesque shapes. The ground was littered with fallen leaves, each one stained with dark, sticky sap.

And in the center of it all stood a figure, cloaked in shadow and wreathed in whispers. I stumbled backward, my heart hammering in my chest as I realized the truth. The woods were alive with a power beyond my understanding, and I had unwittingly stumbled into its domain.

I turned to flee, but it was too late. The darkness enveloped me, swallowing me whole as I was pulled into its depths. And as I succumbed to its embrace, I knew with a sinking certainty that I was mistaken to have thought the night would be like other peaceful nights.


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