Post by Elanzaros on Feb 3, 2010 10:20:47 GMT -5
OK peeps, i have to come up with two peices of writing of any kind for my final english mark. This is deadly vital stuff, i have one already and have just finished the other one. Please, your opinions are valued. 
“Sit down Will.” That doesn’t get said very often in this house, its one of those taboo phrases that only ever seems to come out when ive done something seriously wrong. I can remember wondering exactly what I had done wrong, something about a mothers voice when she says something like that just makes you rack your brains in the search for some sort of mishap. It’s the same thing when a mother says your entire name; you know that whatever it is she wants to say it can’t be good. I remember sitting down, keeping a straight face as I made my excuses ready, I knew full well that some work was late for Heatherton, I just hadn’t had the time to do it on top of the coursework for Kashmiri. I was always a good actor, its bound to be my career one day with the writing, the ability to retreat deep within my mind and maintain normal behaviour was always one I was rather proud of. It had served me well against the Stalin impressionist that was Heatherton after all. “I need to tell you something”, it was just like the vindictive old bint to write home. “I’m afraid…” who did she think she was? Setting homework for her interests when she was only a substitute teacher. “Daddy has got cancer.”
I’m all up for a joke, I’m perfectly prepared to laugh at people who are dead provided they were [censored]s, but this was over the line. My face didn’t seem to register what my mind was screaming, it remained blank, the picture of obliviousness. “Its in his colon…” she wasn’t stopping with the punch lines then, god I hope she packs it in soon. “Which isn’t as bad as it sounds.” She was crying, she never cried. “We found out yesterday, we want to tell you because otherwise you will know something is wrong.” She was serious? “So this wont effect anything, we will get through this.”
My head nodded, I didn’t want it to that would be admitting it, acknowledging it, accepting that it is really happening. This didn’t happen to me, other people got ill, my mother was a nurse for god’s sake my people couldn’t get ill. It just wasn’t allowed it was cheating.
I opened my mouth as if to speak but merely gestured vaguely towards the door. I didn’t bother taking a coat with me; I just left the building, my eyes scanning whatever was put in front of them as I walked, not aiming for any particular destination, just letting my feet guide me to wherever they saw fit. “Christian Union” came a voice to my right as I rounded the corner of my road, a collection box rattled under my nose. I stared at the smiling man, was he really asking me for money? Did he really want me to give money to god? My stare soon turned to a glare as I felt my eyes beginning to brim, NO! I would not cry! I would not let myself shed tears because of some ignorant do-gooder. He backed away slowly, trying to brush off the teenager before him staring a hole through his eyes. As he turned away from me I continued to walk, forcing one foot in front of the other, my fists shaking by my sides as I crossed the road and turned another corner.
The terrain was slowly changing now; the sounds of the busy high street were fading, being replaced by the suburban sounds of the occasional child screaming or dog barking. I’m sure my mind knew where I was, but it wasn’t going to let me in on the information, it just told me to keep walking. I turned another corner and noticed that I was heading into a field, there were woods on the other side of the field, the tree’s stabbing into the blue sky as the sun beat down on planet Earth, unnoticed by the teenager walking across a field.
I reached the woods, was I thinking? I can’t remember. I don’t think I was. I’m sure I would have noticed what I was thinking about. It was as though my mind was no longer wandering, now it was rewinding, going back to this morning and running through the day up to sitting down, over and over again. The woods weren’t thick; I think I had been there before at some point, god knows when, maybe when I was much younger. I didn’t want the tears to come. That would be weak, weak wasn’t allowed. People like me didn’t get weak, I had beaten the best in America and Japan, I had impressed Hanshi Hamada himself, I had been described as the class fighter of the dojo, I did not get weak!
I stared at a tree, my hands on either side of it, allowing myself to be lost in the bark, hoping to be lost in the patterns, wanting to not notice the world around me. I couldn’t see the tree though; I could just see a flow of images today. The ceiling of my bedroom, my toothpaste stained face in the mirror, Soccer AM on the TV, the computer, a part of the stairs, my mothers face, the handle of the door, the smiling face of the collector.
“FUCK YOU!” I head butted the bark, again and again. Not counting how many times my forehead smashed into the tree, not noticing the dented dry bark start to crumble away slightly. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?” I shouted at the sky, tearing myself away from the tree, my head hurt, but I didn’t care. “WHAT HAS HE DONE?” I shouted again, a few birds flying out of the tree’s as I screamed into the sky. “Fine!” I shouted in a slightly more controlled voice, turning and punching the tree as hard as I could and placing my hands back were they were, hunched slightly, as though expecting to be whipped. “C’mon-c’mon-c’mon…”
What was I hoping for? A bolt of lightning to strike me in the back? I don’t know, I honestly can’t remember. All I genuinely remember about my mind at the time was slowly calming down, flattening my fringe slightly to hide the mark on my forehead and leaving the clearing, heading consciously home. I phoned people on my way, as many friends as I could think of at the time, telling them to be gentle with me for a while.
When I got back I hugged my mother, I can’t remember how long it lasted, I can only guess. It didn’t take long for dad to get in. He smiled at me, I smiled at him and we carried on as normal, I don’t know about the other two. But it was the hardest thing I have ever done.
“Sit down Will.” That doesn’t get said very often in this house, its one of those taboo phrases that only ever seems to come out when ive done something seriously wrong. I can remember wondering exactly what I had done wrong, something about a mothers voice when she says something like that just makes you rack your brains in the search for some sort of mishap. It’s the same thing when a mother says your entire name; you know that whatever it is she wants to say it can’t be good. I remember sitting down, keeping a straight face as I made my excuses ready, I knew full well that some work was late for Heatherton, I just hadn’t had the time to do it on top of the coursework for Kashmiri. I was always a good actor, its bound to be my career one day with the writing, the ability to retreat deep within my mind and maintain normal behaviour was always one I was rather proud of. It had served me well against the Stalin impressionist that was Heatherton after all. “I need to tell you something”, it was just like the vindictive old bint to write home. “I’m afraid…” who did she think she was? Setting homework for her interests when she was only a substitute teacher. “Daddy has got cancer.”
I’m all up for a joke, I’m perfectly prepared to laugh at people who are dead provided they were [censored]s, but this was over the line. My face didn’t seem to register what my mind was screaming, it remained blank, the picture of obliviousness. “Its in his colon…” she wasn’t stopping with the punch lines then, god I hope she packs it in soon. “Which isn’t as bad as it sounds.” She was crying, she never cried. “We found out yesterday, we want to tell you because otherwise you will know something is wrong.” She was serious? “So this wont effect anything, we will get through this.”
My head nodded, I didn’t want it to that would be admitting it, acknowledging it, accepting that it is really happening. This didn’t happen to me, other people got ill, my mother was a nurse for god’s sake my people couldn’t get ill. It just wasn’t allowed it was cheating.
I opened my mouth as if to speak but merely gestured vaguely towards the door. I didn’t bother taking a coat with me; I just left the building, my eyes scanning whatever was put in front of them as I walked, not aiming for any particular destination, just letting my feet guide me to wherever they saw fit. “Christian Union” came a voice to my right as I rounded the corner of my road, a collection box rattled under my nose. I stared at the smiling man, was he really asking me for money? Did he really want me to give money to god? My stare soon turned to a glare as I felt my eyes beginning to brim, NO! I would not cry! I would not let myself shed tears because of some ignorant do-gooder. He backed away slowly, trying to brush off the teenager before him staring a hole through his eyes. As he turned away from me I continued to walk, forcing one foot in front of the other, my fists shaking by my sides as I crossed the road and turned another corner.
The terrain was slowly changing now; the sounds of the busy high street were fading, being replaced by the suburban sounds of the occasional child screaming or dog barking. I’m sure my mind knew where I was, but it wasn’t going to let me in on the information, it just told me to keep walking. I turned another corner and noticed that I was heading into a field, there were woods on the other side of the field, the tree’s stabbing into the blue sky as the sun beat down on planet Earth, unnoticed by the teenager walking across a field.
I reached the woods, was I thinking? I can’t remember. I don’t think I was. I’m sure I would have noticed what I was thinking about. It was as though my mind was no longer wandering, now it was rewinding, going back to this morning and running through the day up to sitting down, over and over again. The woods weren’t thick; I think I had been there before at some point, god knows when, maybe when I was much younger. I didn’t want the tears to come. That would be weak, weak wasn’t allowed. People like me didn’t get weak, I had beaten the best in America and Japan, I had impressed Hanshi Hamada himself, I had been described as the class fighter of the dojo, I did not get weak!
I stared at a tree, my hands on either side of it, allowing myself to be lost in the bark, hoping to be lost in the patterns, wanting to not notice the world around me. I couldn’t see the tree though; I could just see a flow of images today. The ceiling of my bedroom, my toothpaste stained face in the mirror, Soccer AM on the TV, the computer, a part of the stairs, my mothers face, the handle of the door, the smiling face of the collector.
“FUCK YOU!” I head butted the bark, again and again. Not counting how many times my forehead smashed into the tree, not noticing the dented dry bark start to crumble away slightly. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?” I shouted at the sky, tearing myself away from the tree, my head hurt, but I didn’t care. “WHAT HAS HE DONE?” I shouted again, a few birds flying out of the tree’s as I screamed into the sky. “Fine!” I shouted in a slightly more controlled voice, turning and punching the tree as hard as I could and placing my hands back were they were, hunched slightly, as though expecting to be whipped. “C’mon-c’mon-c’mon…”
What was I hoping for? A bolt of lightning to strike me in the back? I don’t know, I honestly can’t remember. All I genuinely remember about my mind at the time was slowly calming down, flattening my fringe slightly to hide the mark on my forehead and leaving the clearing, heading consciously home. I phoned people on my way, as many friends as I could think of at the time, telling them to be gentle with me for a while.
When I got back I hugged my mother, I can’t remember how long it lasted, I can only guess. It didn’t take long for dad to get in. He smiled at me, I smiled at him and we carried on as normal, I don’t know about the other two. But it was the hardest thing I have ever done.
