Run Ragged
Riley Robertson
From a distance a passerby could see a silhouette of a cadet standing stiff with his arms
folded behind his back. A man of character and achievement by everyone’s standards. He is a
man of honor and dedication, why else would he leave his friends and family if not to do great
things? As the passerby gets closer, he notices the cadet more and more. His Garrison cap shabby
the top sagging to one side. The brass on his shirt a little dull, set on a slightly worn shirt. His
shoes have scrapes along the sides. Seeing this the passerby thinks “Although he isn’t of highest
merit, he still dedicates his time and energy. Once he is shown direction, he can improve.” Then
as the passerby is a couple of feet away the cadet comes into focus. His cover is grey, stained,
two sizes too small. Well shaven his chin as bare as the look in his eyes. His shirt is worn
threads poking out like sprouts. The brass is tarnished and a name tag obscure. His belt
threadbare worn to a fray, and pants just as used. His shoes have gone through war, scuffed
battered and the souls worn to the pads. As the passerby passes by, he thinks “Well some people
don’t put in the effort”. The cadet stands straight, his hands folded behind his back with his four-year worn cap six year worn shirt four-year worn brass, four year worn pants, and his year worn
shoes. Clutching his degree.
folded behind his back. A man of character and achievement by everyone’s standards. He is a
man of honor and dedication, why else would he leave his friends and family if not to do great
things? As the passerby gets closer, he notices the cadet more and more. His Garrison cap shabby
the top sagging to one side. The brass on his shirt a little dull, set on a slightly worn shirt. His
shoes have scrapes along the sides. Seeing this the passerby thinks “Although he isn’t of highest
merit, he still dedicates his time and energy. Once he is shown direction, he can improve.” Then
as the passerby is a couple of feet away the cadet comes into focus. His cover is grey, stained,
two sizes too small. Well shaven his chin as bare as the look in his eyes. His shirt is worn
threads poking out like sprouts. The brass is tarnished and a name tag obscure. His belt
threadbare worn to a fray, and pants just as used. His shoes have gone through war, scuffed
battered and the souls worn to the pads. As the passerby passes by, he thinks “Well some people
don’t put in the effort”. The cadet stands straight, his hands folded behind his back with his four-year worn cap six year worn shirt four-year worn brass, four year worn pants, and his year worn
shoes. Clutching his degree.
Riley Robertson is a cadet that enjoys learning new skills and hobbies. With each new skill, a new genre for his writing is formed.