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Dear Frank,

As you may know, our security procedures have been updated and new alarm systems are in place. We will be organizing a random fire drill next week of floor 5 and 6. All wings will be on alert.

It’s now mandatory for the emergency volunteers to pick up their pagers and transceivers at the reception desk when they start their shifts.
Don’t forget to log when they pick up and return the transceivers. The volunteers remain responsible for the pagers.

1. When the alarm sounds, leave your workplace immediately via the indicated flight routes. Do not use the elevators! Emergency volunteers will aid in the drill and provide guidance where necessary. After the alarm we will announce that it is a full fire drill and it will be audible on all floors and wings of the company.

2. Once outside, please gather at the meeting place. When you are uncertain follow your wing volunteer, they are recognized by wearing bright yellow safety jackets and red helmet.

3. The fire drill instructions are part of the floor plan and can be found by every emergency door, the main entrance and elevator halls.

I would encourage you to practice the drills by yourself this week. Feel free to contact security services for additional support in the matter.

Kind Regards,
Francisca Roele, CPO

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Fact and fiction.

She was a drummer in a cover band, and she played it well. In fact, she was much better than the rest. Despite her being a solid and in-the-pocket drummer, this meant nothing if she couldn’t lay off the drugs or the booze.

Fiction and fact.

Every day he is there; sitting on the floor playing his guitar and singing his songs. All through summer he sat there near the shops singing covers. Now the winter was coming and a chilled enough breeze to rob one’s breath. In front of him an old leather cowboy hat – it was empty.

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He smelled of smoke and on his hands he had smears of soot. He opened the newspaper almost as fast as he closed it, flipping frantic through the pages.

His black hat covered the top of his face, while the red shawl made the bottom of his face disappear.

He seemed agitated, constantly looking up from the newspaper. When the bus came to a halt he sprinted outside desperately wanting to catch the connecting fare. A matchbook dropped out of his pocket, with a few matches spent. On the front page, a fire. Apparently happened last night.

As the other bus leaves the station Mr. Black Hat was looking nervous. Side to side his head went, his eyes unable to settle. Then the bus turns a corner, driving him off to where? No one knows.

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Bad

May loved nature and the exotic outdoors like tropical jungle and rain forest. Last time she went to Africa. She sat at the base of a huge tree, shielding her from the intense sun. Behind her a waterfall thundered into the lake beneath the mountain. It broke the water into a fine mist and shed the surroundings in a layered veil of mystery.

From her bag she pulled a notebook and placed it in her lap. From the belt pouch she retrieved a pen, old and dinky. Drowned in the sound of the waterfall she put pen to paper.

Clouds moved together and darkened her world. Violent cracks of thunder plunged through the sky. The few drops of rain quickly became a terrible shower and the little she had written became an abstract of black and white. A trickle in her nose made her sneeze and even the enormous branches of her favorite tree were not enough to keep the assault of rain at bay. Today was not a good day to write.

Good

Rae came home from work exhausted and needed to recharge her battery. She placed her laptop bag on the floor and removed her coat. It was tossed over a chair at the dinner table. In the bedroom she changed into something comfortable. Her neat but stiff uniform was traded for a loose sweater and baggy pant; heels traded with flats.

With a sigh of relief she opened the garden door and stepped out. The grass was still moist and here and there drops of rain fell. A short distance away stood the one thing she needed most. Her tree house, build on a platform across a group of trees, with a swirling set of stairs providing access from the ground.

The inside was sparsely decorated, just the way she liked it. A simple desk and comfortable chair, with a window displaying rows of trees and flowing hills. In the distance dark shadows of mountain tops. In the center burned a multi-fuel woodburning stove. A small stair case lead to the second floor where a modest bed was installed.

She looked outside. It had just rained and the world felt cleansed. Drops of rain glided gently from the leaves, hitting the ground in a soft rhythm. She smiled and sat behind her desk with her laptop on the ready. Her fingers sped across the keyboard and filled up page after page in the text editor.

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A lone figure sat on a red metal bench at the bus station with a shopping bag between his feet. His black hat covered the top of his face; while the red shawl made the bottom of his face disappear. A heavy pair of glasses sat on his hairy nose. A thick blue coat kept his shaking body warm.

The bag contained all he had of value, complete with the last bit of mail. He was no longer welcome at work, said the latest text on his phone. This meant he no longer was eligible to live in the apartments close by. An end of lease contract was stuck between two pieces of mail. Red print was found on the ones sticking out. A badge stuck to the rim of his coat showed his face together with a name and title. Jack Maloni, Corporate Fraud Investigator.

The man smell of smoke. His hands had smears of soot. Agitated, he looked up from the newspaper. The newspaper closed almost as fast as it opened after frantic flipping through the pages.

When the bus came to a halt, he sprinted outside wanting to catch the connecting fare. A matchbook dropped out of his pocket, with a few matches spent. On the front page, a fire. It happened last night.

As the other bus leaves the station Mr. Black Hat was looking nervous waving his head side to side, his eyes unable to settle. Then the bus turns a corner and he sat down pulling out the latest report he wrote.

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A lone figure sat on a red metal bench at the bus station with a shopping bag between his feet. His black hat covered the top of his face; while the red shawl made the bottom of his face disappear. A heavy pair of glasses sat on his hairy nose. A thick blue coat kept his shaking body warm.

The bag contained all he had of value, complete with the last bit of mail. He was no longer welcome at work, said the latest text on his phone. This meant he no longer was eligible to live in the apartments close by. An end of lease contract was stuck between two pieces of mail. Red print was found on the ones sticking out. A badge stuck to the rim of his coat showed his face together with a name and title. Jack Maloni, Corporate Fraud Investigator.

Jack smelled of smoke. His hands had smears of soot. Agitated, he looked up from the newspaper. The newspaper closed almost as fast as it opened after frantic flipping through the pages.

When the bus came to a halt, he sprinted outside wanting to catch the connecting fare. A matchbook dropped out of his pocket, with a few matches spent. On the front page, a fire. It happened last night.

As the other bus leaves the station Mr. Black Hat was looking nervous waving his head side to side, his eyes unable to settle. Then the bus turns a corner and he sat down pulling out the latest report he wrote.

(edited)

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2.11 Familiar words in unfamiliar places

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2.11 Familiar words in unfamiliar places

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Jayna walked down the rickety wooden stairs. It looked more like a long old plank tossed into the sand. Seawater ran up, licked the bottom edge, then strolled (was walked) back into the void of open sea.

(edited)

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“What,” she asked with a slight shock in her eyes.

“I love you Sabine,” he repeated. “I’ve loved you from the moment we met.”

“That was yesterday, Tom. How can you say that?” Her voice was colder now and her face sunk into a frown. “You can’t just walk up to people and yell this out in the open?”

It was Toms turn to be surprised. “Why not, if that’s how I feel.”

“You’ve only seen me once, Tom. Once.”

“But it was a date,” he said desperate.

“We had coffee, Tom. Nothing else. Now, please move out of the way so I can go in.”

“Why are you fighting me on this,” he cried. “I don’t understand.” He took her hands which she pulled away firmly.

“Don’t touch me,” she screamed and started looking into her bag while taking a small step back. A small canister appeared. Tom tried to grab her again, more firmly. Sabine yelled and sprayed into Tom’s face with pepper spray.

Crying out in agony Tom stumbled away from her door and tripped over garbage bags on the edge of the sidewalk.

Sabine hurried up the small steps and went inside. The door closed shut with several locks falling in place. Behind the topped over garbage bags laid Tom screaming in pain, while his face turned an unhealthy shade of red.

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(Emma said that) it didn’t matter anymore. It was too late. Everything of value was gone and hope was lost. I disagreed. We, as a people, had to fight back. We could not let this plunder of our own properties, our lands, continue.

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I remember last night, it went better than expected. We had less time, but were able to keep up with the renewed pace. Two extra guards on patrol cut our time to a third of what we originaly calculated. it also meant an extra car to hide behind. Fortunately the weather was on our side for a change. Barely a moon to be seen, nevermind the stars. Clouds packed tightly together as if in a herd. All that was missing was a dog to round them up.

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The radio announced code orange for the current weather conditions. The wind blew up a storm of rain and hail. An old man in his black raincoat and brown cap crawled behind the wheel. A dull grey shawl was roughly placed around his neck.

With a loud noise the tree branch drummed on the roof of his old blue car. He ignored the noise and started to drive away and made a turn. The tree branch looked almost like a small tree; a trunk with branches and stubborn twigs forming a green mess. It moved from the top of the roof to the center of the windshield.

The brakes clamped, the tires squealed and the branch went flying. Some of its twigs got stuck between the wipers. His face grew into a frown as he turned on the wipers. It swiped left and right with the branch now attached to it. He bit his lips then sighed. He got out and started pulling the smaller twig of the branch and it peeled right off. With a firm grip on a larger branch he wrestled it off his car and dumped it on the sidewalk. When he opened the door to get back into his car a large branch fell on the top of his head. He sunk to the floor with hall a tree on him and his car.

Across the street is an infamous vlogger filming the entire scene with his phone. “Look at that, he just got nailed to the floor by a friggin’ tree!” Almost if hypnotized he continued filming while the poor man bled out on the street. At last he added, “Someone call an ambulance,” he yelled.

More people crowded around the old man on the floor. They all stared at the scene in front of them. Another voice yelled, “Someone call an ambulance, please!”

“I’m a doctor,” said someone from among the crowd. “Let me through.” A gentleman dressed in a dark blue Italian suit emerged. He tried to lift the branch of the man, but it was large and clumsy to hold. More people left the safety of the crowd and helped lifting the branch away from the poor man laying on the ground. Once the branch was removed the doctor was finally able to check his vitals. There were none. He inspected the man’s head. The branch impacted with such force it had crushed it. “There’s nothing I can do for him,” his voice was soft and gentle. “He’s gone.”

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Unfortunate Fortune
She wore a red beret, black coat and short pleaded skirt. In her hands was an old camera ready for action. Her breath was quick and rushed.  For a short minute she closed her eyes and focused on her task.
‘Calm down, calm down. Just take the picture and be done with it. This is going to be the shot out of the poor house!’
She stepped out of the shadows into the street light. In front of her were a scattering of mobile homes and trailers divided by patches of grass and weeds. Most of the so-called homes had seen better times.
Quietly she knocks on one of the rusty doors. “Yeah, what,” bellows a deep husky voice. The trailer home wiggled and shook by every bounce made inside. “I’m a comin’, comin’” and with a scoff a giant of a man opens the door. His face dirty, with wild long hair and beard. The smell of him could intoxicate half the block.
A blinding light from the flash. “Gotcha,” Vicky cheered. Covering his eyes with a shovel of a hand and his other hand pointing at her. “No, not take picture. Please!”
“It’s just a job, mister. Nothing personal,” her voice was certain and confident. ‘Vicky, the flashy reporter strikes again. Read it all about it. Famous football player turned loser,’ she sneered and slips back into the shadows. No doubt planning her next tabloid photo.

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Reader 1 - A colleague you have worked with for more than 5 years. You are writing to them about something you have talked about before.

To this colleague I would write as I speak and very informal. I might even use smileys. Little detail necessary since we’re both familiar with the subject. Just enough to get the point across.

Reader 2 - A person in a senior position at your work place. You don’t know them very well. They want an update on a new project you are working on.

I would use a more conservative tone and formal. I would write down as much detail necessary for him to understand the project update. I would not use many acronyms/abbrev/ or jargon.

Reader 3 - A vendor or client that you have met only once before. You’re writing to them for the first time.

Also a conservative tone and somewhat formal, but not as extreme as the previous case. I would be very detailed with the mail, but wouldn’t use acronyms/abbrev or jargon.

Reader 4 - The reader for the email you wrote in Task 1 (Step 1.7).

Since it’s a colleague I’ve known for a while my tone would be freely, same as I speak and very informal. Since we both do the same job I can forego much of the detail and just explain what is needed. He’ll know what to do. I can use acronyms/abbrev/jargon with him.