It was a lovely day. Summer in a little Town in Kazakhstan, but I suffered the pain of.............. boredom. I am Schack Kleinschmidt. I'm a seventeen year old. I live in the worst place you could ever imagine. A farm. I hate animals. I like to think my step parents are animals. Step Mother and father are busy people they like to see what I get up to. I tend to keep away from them as they drive me crazy at all times. I like to stay in my room all day. Summer is not the air I breathe so I stay inside. I miss Winter like a good mother and father.

So one day. Still Summer. Still boring. So I was on my desk in my room with the door shut. I pulled out a ply of paper from the desk drawers. Threw it on the desk. I slowly and carefully drew one sheet from the ply. I drew something. I didn't quite like it. I drew somethings several or maybe more times and still I began find no interest in any of the drawings. Approximately after five hours of drawing I suddenly found what I was looking for. It was exactly my one thousandth, six hundredth and sixty sixth drawing. I knew this simply because I numbered them form one to this sheet. I was amazed with the outcome. I never knew I could draw. So I showed my step parents how great I was.

I went to the dining room. Only Step Mother was there. "Hey Mama, look at me now. Look at me now," I said trying to grasp her attention as her back faced me. She was sitting at the Dining table knitting woolen thing. I couldn't quite tell what it was. "What!", she said as she turned around to reveal the ugliest face I know. "Look!", I replied. Her head and her eyes looked on to to me then she gazed at my picture. She replied, "That looks crap! Try better next time this just ain't working.Its a stick man for heavens sake. Gosh what can I do with you." She grappled the paper. Scrunched it up and threw it in the bin. I went back to my room and started a new set of drawings.

After a while late at night, I didn't like any of the drawings and so decided to get the one in the bin. I bent down and searched for the scrunched up paper. "Ahhhh!" , there it was. I grabbed it and opened it. I looked for the drawing. It was gone. I knew this was the paper because it had the number 1666 on it. The picture just seemed to roam off somewhere else.

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