Epithelium is a protective animal tissue that lines outer surface of organs and blood vessels.

One type of epithelium(above) is the Epidermis - the layer of visible skin without any blood vessels. It is made out of epithelial cells.

Endothelium tissue lines the interior surfaces of blood vessels and lymphatic vessels. It is also makes up the blood and lymphatic capillaries (blood and lympathic capillaries have only one layer of Endothelium. Nothing else…kinda.)

According to my Biology teacher, “Endothelial means belonging to the Endothelium.” It’s a matter of language. They both refer to the same thing.

Endometrium (with the most obvious difference) is the innermost linking of uterus with is vessel-rich.

Note: This is just for simple understanding…

Okay, that sums up this article.

If anyone of you have any questions, feel free to drop a comment!

[And if there are any errors, please tell me… I will edit this]

Have a great week everyone!

As I trudge through the damp mud that clung onto my feet in attempts to drag me down, the trees overhead dripped droplets of water they have collected from the sudden storm that struck a few hours ago. Now that it has ended, the forest was humid and cold, causing me to shiver and sweat at the same time. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Pushing away large leaves and thin branches that blocked my path, I looked for a way out of the forest.

I was on a school camping trip but when my friends and I were laughing and ignoring the safety instructions that sounded very much like a lullaby, a storm was brewing in the heavens. When it hit, it pounded heavily on us, soaking our polo shirts and school shoes. I remember the guide calmly leading the way to our camp’s shelter.

Now, I am trying to recall the direction we had walked in at that time but this forest was exactly the same in every direction I turned to. North had trees. The east had more trees. South had even more trees and the west also had trees. I don’t even know if I’m walking in whatever direction I think I’m walking in.

I remember my friends and I had been clowning around, even when the group was trying to find shelter in a deadly storm in this forest. There are paths anyways and this is a school trip. How bad could it possibly get?

The hunger and fatigue is setting in. So is the cold. I can feel it inching up every centimeter of my clammy skin. My dark hair is stuck on my neck and back. Every time a wind swept past, I’d shiver.

We had been walking and the forest had seemed as forest-y as ever, green covering every part of it. The rain incessantly slapped our faces and the leaves, creating loud pitter-patters on them. The path ahead got more and more blurry as my spectacles had droplets of water which flowed down, creating blurry streaks of diamonds.

The sun is now shining through some gaps in the leaves and the forest is starting to light up. Maybe it wouldn’t be that cold in a while.

A few hours ago when I was still on my way to a safe shelter, my friends and I were fooling around. I don’t recall exactly what we did but I felt a nudge. And the mud that gripped so strongly on my feet wasn’t strong enough. My friends reached out their hands, fear clouding their faces. I was shocked.

The ground rushed up to meet me —

Now I continue to look for a clearing. I’m sure they are still in the forest. It’s only been around a day since I got lost. They couldn’t possibly have left me here to die.

Suddenly, my feet kicked something that was not as hard as wood nor was it as soft as the leaves on the forest floor. Was it an animal? Oh no. What if I kicked a snake or something?

I looked down and fear trickled down my spine. Goosebumps formed on my arms and I let out a scream. Jumping back, I fell onto the floor with my hands touching the warm and moist mud. I was not an outdoorsy person but at that instant, I dug my hands into the mud and frantically scrambled backwards, away from it. Tears formed in my eyes, further blurring my +2.50 eyesight. I knew the tears were there but I couldn’t feel it. Either because of the fatigue or the terror.

I was now sitting on my butt, mud smudges all over my clothes, staring at someone with dark black hair and a small pale mouth. Her glazed over eyes were staring straight at me, her head tilted to her left. Her dark iris reflecting me and my dark iris staring back at her with pure horror on my face.

What was happening?

I was sure I was shaking. I pulled my eyes away and something shining in the little bit of sunlight caught my eye. I found my lost spectacles.

Hi guys! Did it in 20min. Please do give me constructive feedback! :)

Also, for a similar story, I am beginning to use medium to post some short stories so you can click here for one that I’ve just written!

And I was just wondering, where do you post your works?…

Tristessa trudged into the rain with the her black umbrella clutched tightly in her hand. Open it up, she wills herself, shield yourself from the edges of diamonds that send ripples into the earth.

Ignoring her own advice, she clamps the umbrella between her arms and body as she reaches out with her hands, forming chalices with her cupped hands. Drops of rain collide with her head and gently flows down her hair, running down her face and leaving streaks and traces for the next raindrops to follow. She watches silently as droplets collect in her hands.

It was winter, spring, summer, fall and then back again. Has time elapsed? The rain is still falling and has already filled her hands. A waterfall. As she watches on, the once round drops become elongated and seem to drag on forever. When would the rain stop?

Her vision blurs as her jet black eyelashes catch beads of transparent pearls. It stings.

Tasting sand would be a great improvement. Feeling scorched would be a great improvement. When will I stop feeling the numbing waves of water…

It’s too cold, I should open the umbrella, she thought.

A blood-curdling smile and spine-tingling laugh. She laughs at the despairing morphing skies, cackles at the wailing rain, mocks the damp and suffocating air.

“What a horrible weather,” she laughs.

Then stops.

Sighing, she reluctantly opens her umbrella and blinks away the tears just as a notification lights up the snarling face of her phone. A wave of problems after another with no way to solve, but she would have no choice but to continue threading water. The burning fire was gone but there was still a lingering warmth, forcing her to hold desperately to the end of a decaying wooden plank in the middle of a tidal wave.

When would the rain stop?

I have decided to try to complete one short story a day. Each with a different topic.

What is this week’s topic? What do you think the rain represents? Comment if you know and if you have any constructive criticism, do share it with me :)