Vocabulary Focus:
- Biography
- Drench
- Swarm
- Wobble
- Tumult
- Kneel
- Dejected
- Obedient
- Recede
- Tyrant
- Charity
- Verdict
- Biography: A biography is a written account or narrative of a person’s life, highlighting their experiences, achievements, and significant events.
- Drench: Drench means to soak or saturate something completely with a liquid, often by pouring or immersing it.
- Swarm: Swarm refers to a large group of insects, animals, or people that move together in a dense and often chaotic manner.
- Wobble: Wobble means to move unsteadily from side to side or shake with small, rapid movements, often due to instability or imbalance.
- Tumult: Tumult refers to a state of noisy confusion, disorder, or commotion, often involving a large group of people or a chaotic situation.
- Kneel: Kneel means to position oneself on one or both knees, typically as a sign of respect, submission, or prayer.
- Dejected: Dejected describes a feeling of sadness, disappointment, or low spirits, often resulting from a sense of failure or loss.
- Obedient: Obedient refers to the quality of being willing to comply with rules, instructions, or authority, and to carry out tasks or commands without resistance.
- Recede: Recede means to move back or withdraw from a previous position or location, often used to describe something gradually moving away or becoming less prominent.
- Tyrant: A tyrant is a ruler or leader who exercises oppressive and cruel power, often disregarding the rights and freedoms of others.
- Charity: Charity refers to the act of giving help, support, or resources to those in need, often through donations or voluntary actions aimed at improving the well-being of others.
- Verdict: Verdict refers to the formal decision or judgment made by a jury or judge in a court of law, determining the guilt or innocence of a person on trial or resolving a legal dispute.
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- Biography: Biografi, riwayat hidup, kisah hidup
- Drench: Basah kuyup, membasahi, menyiram
- Swarm: Gerombolan, sekelompok, kawanan
- Wobble: Goyang, bergoyang-goyang, tidak stabil
- Tumult: Keributan, kekacauan, kegaduhan
- Kneel: Berlutut, tunduk, merendahkan diri
- Dejected: Sedih, murung, patah semangat
- Obedient: Patuh, taat, mengikuti perintah
- Recede: Mundur, surut, menjauh
- Tyrant: Tirani, penguasa zalim, diktator
- Charity: Kebajikan, amal, derma
- Verdict: Putusan, vonis, keputusan.
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Gulliver’s Travels
Jonathan Swift tried to show people’s smallness by writing Dr. Lemuel Gulliver’s biography. In one of his strangest adventures, Gulliver was shipwrecked. Drenched and weary,* he fell asleep on the shore. In the morning, he found himself tied to pegs in the ground, and swarming over him were hundreds of little people six inches high.
After a time, he was allowed to stand, though he began to wobble from being bound so long. He was then marched through the streets, naturally causing a tumult wherever he went. Even the palace was not big enough for him to enter, nor could he kneel before the king and queen. But he did show his respect for them in another way.
The king was dejected because he feared an invasion of Lilliput by Blefuscu, the enemy across the ocean. The reason for the war between the two tiny peoples would seem small and foolish to us. The rebels of Blefuscu were originally Lilliputians who would not abide by the royal decision to crack their eggs on the small end instead of on the larger end. Gulliver, obedient to the king’s command, waded out into the water when the tide receded, and sticking a little iron hook into each of fifty warships, he pulled the entire enemy fleet to Lilliput. Gulliver later escaped from Lilliput when he realized the tiny king was really a tyrant with no charity in his heart.
Oddly enough, the verdict of generations of readers has taken no heed* of the author’s intention in Gulliver’s Travels. Instead, while Lilliputians are still the symbol* of small, narrow-minded people, Swift’s savage attack upon humankind has become one of the best-loved children’s classics.
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Harmony Amidst Discord
In the quaint village of Harmony Hollow, where the whispers of ancient trees told tales of resilience, a saga unfolded that would echo through the ages. The story, titled “Harmony Amidst Discord,” began with the biography of a humble musician named Clara, whose life was destined to be a symphony of trials and triumphs.
Clara, a prodigious violinist, was born into a village where the harmony of nature intertwined with the melodies of its people. However, discord loomed on the horizon, as a swarm of locusts descended upon the village fields, threatening to drench the fertile land in a wave of devastation.
As the village faced this unexpected tumult, Clara took it upon herself to compose a musical ode that would uplift the spirits of the dejected villagers. With her violin in hand, she played a melody that resonated with the collective heartbeat of the community, transforming their despair into a harmonious resolve.
The village, once in the clutches of despair, found solace in Clara’s music. The obedient notes of her violin became a source of strength, inspiring the villagers to stand together against the encroaching swarm. Clara’s resilience, like a beacon in the storm, taught the villagers the importance of unity in the face of discord.
One day, as Clara played her violin on the village square, the tumult of the approaching swarm reached its peak. The villagers, following Clara’s lead, kneeled in unison, a gesture of defiance against the impending catastrophe. The swarm, seemingly affected by the collective harmony, began to recede from the village.
However, the village’s momentary reprieve was short-lived, as a new threat emerged. A tyrant, capitalizing on the vulnerability left in the wake of the locust swarm, sought to exploit the village for personal gain. Clara, undeterred by the shifting tides, composed a new melody—a musical plea for justice and liberation.
The villagers, now united by a common cause, rallied behind Clara’s call for justice. The tyrant, confronted by the unwavering spirit of Harmony Hollow, found their oppressive rule challenged by the power of collective harmony. The village became a bastion of resistance against tyranny, guided by Clara’s music and the principle that even in discord, harmony could prevail.
As the villagers stood firm, the tyrant’s rule crumbled. Clara’s violin, once a source of solace, now played the victorious notes of freedom. The village, having weathered the storm of discord, emerged stronger and more united than ever before.
“Harmony Amidst Discord” became a living testament to the transformative power of music and unity. Clara’s biography, intertwined with the village’s resilience, echoed through the trees, leaving behind a legacy of harmony that would be passed down through generations—a melody of triumph born from the cacophony of discord.
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The Waterbearer’s Rebellion: A Tale of Courage and Compassion
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the parched earth, baking the clay houses of Sunhaven into brittle shells. The once vibrant town square, usually bustling with activity, now lay deserted, a testament to the oppressive rule of King Darius, the self-proclaimed tyrant.
Every day, under the watchful eyes of the king’s guards, a young boy named Elias made his way to the distant well, the only source of water for miles. He balanced a heavy clay pot precariously on his head, his small frame wobbling under the weight. Elias dreamt of a different life, one where he wouldn’t have to endure the tumult of his empty stomach and the dejected faces of his fellow townspeople.
One sweltering afternoon, as Elias approached the well, a swarm of guards surrounded him. They had received an anonymous tip – a biography of King Darius, filled with accounts of his cruelty and hidden acts of charity. The guards, fearing punishment for their king’s hypocrisy, snatched the book from Elias, their faces contorted in fear and anger.
Elias, fueled by a sudden surge of courage, dropped his water pot, the sound echoing through the silent square. He stood tall, his voice trembling but firm, and accused the king of his deceit. The guards, taken aback by his defiance, hesitated.
News of Elias’s act spread like wildfire, igniting a spark of rebellion in the hearts of the townspeople. They gathered in the square, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and determination. Mothers clutched their children, fathers tightened their calloused fists, and the elderly, their voices hoarse with age, joined the growing chorus of disapproval.
As the crowd swelled, the king himself emerged from his palace, his face contorted in rage. He threatened them with imprisonment, even death, but the townspeople stood their ground. Elias, inspired by their unity, knelt before the king, presenting the broken pieces of his water pot.
“We may be thirsty,” he declared, his voice ringing clear, “but we will not be silenced by your lies!”
The king, sensing the tide turning against him, lowered his gaze. Shame flickered across his face, a flicker quickly masked by a forced grin. He declared a new well to be built within the town, a verdict delivered by the people themselves.
The rain, long awaited, finally began to fall that evening. As the parched earth drank its fill, the townspeople celebrated their newfound freedom. Elias, the once obedient waterbearer, became a symbol of their courage and a reminder that even the smallest voice can rise up against a tyrant, paving the way for a more just and compassionate world.
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The Rainmaker’s Rebellion: A Ballad of Defiance
The scorching sun beat down mercilessly on the parched land. Dust devils danced across the cracked earth, a grim reminder of the unrelenting drought that had gripped the kingdom for years. Crops withered, livestock perished, and despair gnawed at the hearts of the people.
Among them was Anya, a young woman with eyes that mirrored the parched earth. She clutched a worn, leather-bound biography of a legendary rainmaker, its pages filled with tales of forgotten magic and whispered promises of life-giving water.
Hope, a flicker amongst the despair, ignited in Anya’s heart. She yearned to defy the tyrant king who hoarded the kingdom’s resources while his subjects suffered. Anya believed the rainmaker’s forgotten magic held the key to their salvation.
With unwavering resolve, she embarked on a perilous journey, braving scorching deserts and treacherous mountains. She faced swarms of locusts, navigated treacherous landscapes, and weathered relentless sandstorms, her spirit mirroring the unwavering determination of the wind.
Finally, she reached the hidden valley, the legendary abode of the rainmakers. But the once vibrant community lay in ruins, a testament to the king’s cruelty. Dejected, Anya stumbled upon a lone, wobbling old man, the last remaining rainmaker.
He listened patiently to Anya’s tale, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. “The magic,” he rasped, his voice barely audible, “is not lost, but dormant. It requires a pure heart and a sacrifice to awaken it.”
Anya, without hesitation, knelt before the old man, her heart overflowing with love for her people. The rainmaker, moved by her dedication, performed the ancient ritual. The ground rumbled, the air crackled with unseen energy, and the sky, once a relentless blue, began to tumult.
As the first drops of rain fell, a collective gasp rose from the land. Anya watched in awe as the sky opened up, unleashing a torrent of life-giving water. The parched earth drank deeply, the withered crops perked up, and jubilant cheers echoed across the kingdom.
News of the rainmaker’s return and Anya’s courage spread like wildfire. The once obedient subjects, emboldened by hope, rose up against the tyrant king. His verdict was swift: dethroned, stripped of his power, and forced to witness the land he had neglected blossom anew.
Anya, hailed as a hero, refused any reward. She simply smiled, watching the children frolic in the rain, their laughter a symphony that resonated louder than any crown. The biography that had sparked her rebellion lay forgotten, its pages replaced by the story she herself had written – a testament to the power of courage, sacrifice, and the unwavering human spirit in the face of tyranny.
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The Rainmaker’s Rebellion: A Tale of Defiance and Hope
The arid plains stretched endlessly beneath the merciless sun, a vast canvas of cracked earth and despair. The once bustling village of Elara now resembled a ghost town, its inhabitants dejected and obedient under the iron fist of the tyrannical Governor Vargas.
Among them was Miguel, a young boy whose only solace came from the dusty pages of his grandfather’s biography. The book, a tattered testament to a forgotten era, spoke of a legendary Rainmaker, a man who possessed the mystical ability to summon rain and end droughts.
One scorching afternoon, as the sun beat down relentlessly, Miguel stumbled upon a hidden cave. Inside, nestled amongst ancient scrolls, lay a weathered staff carved from desert wood. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the staff depicted in his grandfather’s book.
A spark of hope ignited within Miguel. Could this be the staff of the Rainmaker? Could he, a mere boy, be the one to break free from Vargas’s tyranny and bring life back to Elara?
He confided in his close friend, Rosa, a girl with a spirit as fiery as the desert sun. Together, they embarked on a perilous journey, navigating treacherous terrain and braving the elements, their eyes fixed on a distant mountain peak – the fabled resting place of the Rainmaker.
Their journey was fraught with danger. They were chased by Vargas’s ruthless guards, drenched by sudden desert storms, and swarmed by venomous insects. Yet, Miguel and Rosa persevered, fueled by their unwavering determination.
Finally, after weeks of hardship, they reached the mountain peak. Exhausted but resolute, Miguel climbed the final steps, the staff clutched tightly in his hand. As he reached the summit, a tumult of emotions surged through him – fear, hope, and a deep longing for his village.
He raised the staff towards the sky, its weathered surface warm against his skin. A single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent plea for the rain that had eluded them for so long.
And then, a miracle unfolded. The clear, azure sky began to wobble, gathering into dark, swirling clouds. A cool breeze swept across the desert, carrying the distinct scent of rain. Soon, the first drops of rain fell, gentle at first, then growing heavier, until the parched earth was finally drenched.
News of the miracle spread like wildfire. Elara erupted in cheers as the life-giving rain poured down, washing away not just the dust and despair, but also the fear that had gripped them for far too long.
Vargas, his power crumbling under the weight of the rain and the rebellion it had ignited, was forced to flee. The villagers, no longer obedient, celebrated their newfound freedom, their faces turned towards the sky in gratitude.
Miguel, the once timid boy, became a symbol of hope and defiance. He stood before the cheering crowd, the staff held high, no longer a symbol of a forgotten era, but a testament to the power of courage, resilience, and the unwavering belief in the extraordinary.
The rain continued to pour, a cleansing downpour that washed away the past and paved the way for a brighter future for Elara. The verdict was clear – even in the face of tyranny, the will of the people, like the rain, could not be controlled. The legacy of the Rainmaker lived on, not in the dusty pages of a book, but in the hearts of a village reborn.
