It was a dusty night. The sky was as black as an endless pit. In the moon lit pink garden, a tall thin giraffe appeared among the
beetroot. The giraffe sang. He had always wanted to be a singer but no one accepted him. Whenever he walked on to a stage
people would run away screaming. Every time he would walk away with his drooping and wet cheeks. He was sensitive so it
was painful when he was pushed away. One day he had a blast of confidence. He would hold his head high and wouldn’t slouch,
he would sing for the world to hear and everyone would no him. The singing giraffe.