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This is my Common Test Essay. Enjoy!

Title:
Word count: 918

My mother was the best baker in the whole town. The warm hands that always patted me to sleep could knead dough into a large round lump. The kind tongue that whispered loving words to me had tasted all the flavours in the world. The sweet aroma of freshly baked cupcakes always surrounded me as I raced into her warm embrace. And the care and concern she always showed me was evident in her meticulous icing on the cupcakes.

That was a few weeks ago. Before she passed away.

The pain that I experienced during that period was indescribable. The whole world suddenly turned from a rainbow of hues into a dark and gloomy monster, bearing down on me. Day after day was spent locked in my room, hugging a soft pillow with tears soaking through my fingers and drenching the mattress. I refused to talk and refused to continue on with life. I just wanted to stay on my bed, to retrieve the memories of those precious moments I had spent with my mother, and try valiantly to snatch them back as they gradually slipped through my fingers and grew fainter in the distance.

Two weeks after her passing, I received a letter from my father. It included the perfect formal tone he always used, together with the model words of comfort he probably copied from the internet, and topped off with a big fat lie that he regretted divorcing my mother. I crumpled up his invitation to join him in his luxurious house in London with disdain. Father had no idea what it felt like. I glared at the large parcel of cupcakes that he had also sent. The scent of rich chocolate rose from it, and every single cupcake had been baked to perfection. It had probably cost an arm and a leg for him to buy it. In a fit of anger, I hurled the fancy box out of the window. They were nothing compared to my mother’s.

That was the last straw. Tomorrow, I would follow in my mother’s footsteps.

I was all prepared. The toxic tablets were in my right hand, and a glass of water was in the other.

But what I was not prepared for was a small box sitting on my windowsill. It was a pink box with white polka dots, humbly wrapped in a blue sparkly ribbon. The smell of vanilla and strawberry wafted from the interior and beckoned me alluringly. Overcome with curiosity, I gingerly stepped down from my bed. The floor felt like a stranger to my feet after staying so long curled up on the bed. I wobbled slightly, took a few steps to the box, and opened it.

A slightly squashed cupcake met my eyes.

It was nothing spectacular. The cupcake was lopsided. The icing was almost sliding off the cupcake, and a cherry was balanced precariously on the top. I took a small bite. It was as hard as a rock, as dry as the desert.

But as I bit into it, I recalled the time when I was five years old. I was nervously carrying a badly shaped cupcake to my mother. Seeing all the expensive and professional cupcakes my mother’s friends had given her, I was slightly daunted. Nevertheless, I walked straight up to my mother.

“Happy birthday. I made it for you.” I mumbled.

My mother scrutinised the cupcake, and for a split second I was afraid she would reject it and throw it away.

But instead, she held it up, examining it at all angles, like a jeweller examining a precious diamond. Finally, with tears peeking out from the corners of her eyes, she gave me a tender smile that could make flowers bloom even on the most dreariest wintry nights. She gave me a hug, and I snuggled against her chest as we shared the cupcake.

A droplet of water dripped onto the cupcake, and I realised I was crying. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted two shy faces gazing at me through the window. The expressions on their faces were so familiar; just like the ones on my mother. I noted their curly black hair, their onyx eyes, and the tiny freckles on their cheeks. I recognised them. They were my classmates. They were my best friends.

“Serafina? Una?” I choked out.

As if saying their names were an invitation, they clambered through the window and gave me a tight squeeze. I noticed the lingering smell of dough on their hands, and the traces of icing on their fingers. I closed my eyes, revelling in the warmth that seeped into my bones. I hadn’t felt this way in months.

Suddenly, Serafina took a hasty step back.Una followed suit, their eyes fixated on the deadly pills still clutched in my hand. I caught a glance of the pleading look in their eyes, before shifting my gaze back to the pills. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest. I was about to make one of the most major decisions in my life.

I took a deep breath, and flung the pills onto the floor.

Relief spread across their faces as Serafina and Una grabbed my hands and led me outside. As I blinked at the natural light from the sun, the darkness fled, and the world burst into vibrant colours once more. A shadow of a smile flickered across my lips, before blossoming into a wide grin.

“Thank you, my friends.” I whispered.

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Title: The photograph
Word count: 546

We were all set for the photo taking session.

I was immaculate in a smart suit, freshly ironed for the occasion. My sister was also well prepared. She wore a lovely frock with polka dots, and her midnight-black hair was brushed neatly, parted down the middle and braided. We walked sedately down the lane, attracting occasional looks of admiration. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation as we came nearer to Frederick's house. Just yesterday, Frederick had brought exciting news; his cousin, who worked in the city, had sent him a real camera! Susie and I had yet to see a real camera, and it was most definitely an honour that he offered to take a photograph of us.

We gradually drew closer to Frederick’s sturdy red house, and my feet itched with the urge to race ahead. The only thing that was holding me back was the fact that my hair would get mussed up.

We stood in front of the wooden door, the scent of fresh paint still clinging to it. I took a deep breath and knocked.

Frederick opened the door wide. The sun shone on his freckles, and his face split into a wide grin upon seeing us. “Hooray! You’re finally here! Come on!” His curly red hair bounced as he greeted us enthusiastically and led us into the house.

I gasped as I caught sight of the camera. It was displayed proudly on a wooden table, a square box with a circular part protruding from the front. On the top, left hand corner was a small button, and I reached towards it greedily, eager to try out the new contraption.

“Hey! Hands off!” Frederick gently swatted my hand off. Cradling the camera in one hand, he ordered us to stand in front of a clean white wall.

It was evident he wanted the picture to be perfect. He corrected our posture, fussed over every single hair that stood up, and shifted us into various positions. I pursed my lip and tapped my foot. At long last, he took a step back and held up his camera.

“Say-”

“Hold on! I need to go to the bathroom!”

Susie raced off, and I sighed impatiently. Did the process of taking just one photograph have to take that long?

Time seemed to crawl. Finally, after what seemed like eons, Susie came scuttling back. Frederick arranged everything to perfection, then finally raised his camera to eye level.

“Say cheese!”

Susie and I beamed at the camera.

To our utmost surprise, a red face with bulging eyes and a forked tongue came shooting out from the shutter. Susie shrieked. I leaped back in fright, banging my head painfully against the wall in the process. Once I regained my composure, I scrutinized at the toy snake that dangled from the camera by a spring and glared at Frederick, who was rolling on the floor and chortling. Tears ran down his cheeks and seeing my angry face just made him chuckle harder.

Seeing the state Frederick was in, I could not resist. My lip trembled with the effort of keeping in the suppressed laughter and soon gave way.

That day, the house rang with the merry laughter of the three of us; Frederick, Susie, and I.

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Title: The bigger pear
Word count: 729

The end was in sight. A large, shiny trophy stood proud and erect on an island far off in the distance. The sun reflected its rays off its gleaming golden surface, displaying the Cup in all its glory and drawing us towards it.

The only obstacle in our way was a vast sea. It was far from calm. The waters churned like the contents in a brewing cauldron, and turbulent waves rose to drastic heights before crashing down with a loud roar. I shivered at the thought of crossing that treacherous stretch of water. As if mirroring my thoughts, Jared tightened his grasp on my arm.

That simple act brought much warmth and assurance.  Jared and I had survived the challenges so far. We had stuck together, as best friends always did. And now, we were sure to complete the last leg of the competition and clinch the Best Friendship Award.

I glanced towards the set of instructions, which were nailed to a tree. It read, “You will find two pears on growing on the tree. The bigger one will guarantee you enough strength to cross the sea, whereas the smaller one will weaken you. You will only be able to leave the island after eating one of the pears. Good Luck!”

I exchanged a look with Jared. This task was demanding the ultimate sacrifice of our own life. Neither of us was willing to send the other to their doom. After a brief debate, we came up with one conclusion. We were exhausted. We decided to sleep first, before making the final choice the next day.

I rose with the sun the next dawn, fully aware it might be my last. I reached out beside me, meaning to shake Jared awake, but my hand only touched dry sand. I glanced over, goosebumps appearing my skin as I saw the faint outline of Jared’s sleeping form imprinted in the sand. My heart was pounding with growing dread as I raced towards the tree, hoping against hope that my worst fears had not been confirmed…

I gaped at the single green pear hanging on the tree. Compared to usual pears which were the size of a hand, it was small and puny, only about the size of a tennis ball. Boiling rage surged through me. How dare he! How dare Jared, who was closer to me than even my brother, desert me like this? I stomped about, renting my frustration on the white sand, screaming my woes to the whole world.

Finally, panting after my violent exertion, I plonked down onto the soft sand with a thump. My anger had worn off, leaving now only dismay and disbelief. Jared had been my bosom friend. My loyal companion. The one who had stuck by me, through thick and thin. I simply could not accept the fact he had probably taken off and reached the finishing point by now, clutching the trophy in sweaty hands and laughing maliciously at how gullible I was.

The thought of Jared tricking me filled me with determination. I stood up, brushed the sand off my pants with firm strokes and marched up the pear. “I’ll show him!” I thought as I seized the pear and yanked it off the tree. Gulping it down with a few rapid bites, I threw the core over my shoulder and was at the point of diving into the choppy sea when I heard a familiar voice call my name.

I whipped around, ready to confront the traitor.

Jared had a mask of confusion and distress painted on his face. He kept shaking his head as if there was a fact he could not comprehend. “Why, Cole, why?” he whimpered.

But I was not listening. My eyes were riveted on the object held in the palm of his hand...

It was a tiny pear, only about the size of a ping pong ball.

Realisation hit me like a tsunami. I rolled about on the ground, grabbing my head, pulling my hair, trying desperately to dodge the truth that I could not bear to face. But no matter how hard I tried to block it out of my mind, that dreaded truth eventually snaked its way into my brain and printed itself in large, bolded words.

Jared had not been the one who ate the bigger pear.

It had been I.

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Title: Rescue
Word count: 721

I crouched in a corner, my thick fur buffeted against the mighty wind. On the black stretch of land beside me, monsters of all colours rushed past, giving out foul stenches and reeking of humans. Confusion filled me as I recalled the recent events; one moment I had been a happy kitten, playing with my littermates, and the next moment a fat human had picked me up and shoved me into a stuffy sack. I spent about an hour clawing my way out of it, and now that I was free, I didn’t know whether I would be better off in the sack or out in the scary world. I curled my tail around me, missing the warm scent of hay and the sweet milk from my mother.

“Here kitty kitty…” My senses switched onto high alert. Another human! Unsheathing my claws, I spun around, my back arched and my hackles raised. But when I saw the human, a young girl wearing a purple sweater with long blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall, I flattened my fur and sheathed my claws. It was not the fact that she was holding out a delicious biscuit, nor the fact that she had not tried to grab me forcefully. It was her eyes. They were brown and full of kindness, full of patience, and full of love. And it was those eyes that captured my heart. As she scooped me up and cradled me in the crook of her arm, I purred. I had finally found refuge in this terrifying world.

The next few weeks were like heaven. Every day, the girl would give me a dish of milk before carrying a red bag and marching out the door. I used to miss her badly and meowed in protest as she left, but after a few days, I got used to it. I awaited her return eagerly, padding out to greet her as she strolled through the door and earning a warm cuddle.

One day, the girl returned with a ball of green string. As she placed it in front of me, I battered it with one paw warily before pouncing on it. To my utmost surprise, the ball rolled right over and nearly flattened me! I scrambled to my paws, hissing and spitting, unsheathing my claws and wrestling with the ball. Nearby, the girl laughed until she almost cried, watching me fondly as I attacked the ball.

Unfortunately, those days were about to end.

One day, the girl woke up later than usual, grabbed her bag and dashed out the door without closing it behind her. I peered out from behind the door, a persistent question etched in my mind; where did my beloved owner go every day? I hesitated for a split second, but in the end, curiosity guided my paws after the girl, stalking her stealthily and ensuring that she did not spot me. After a few minutes, the girl turned a sharp right, and I followed, only to halt abruptly. This was where I was abandoned-the place next to that black stretch of land where monsters roared past! However, the girl daringly walked on, not seeming to worry about the monsters. I was about to gather the courage to continue following her when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a huge menacing black monster heading straight for the girl!

“LOOK OUT!” I yowled desperately. The girl stopped and turned around, the shocked look on her face quickly fading into affection. I stared in horror. The girl was obviously oblivious to the danger. There was only one way to save her.

Taking a deep breath, I bunched my muscles and pushed off the ground, taking one long, flying leap towards the girl.

Bang! Barely had I shoved the girl aside than a big bulk of metal slammed into my body. A sharp jolt of pain shot through me, and the world started to spin before my eyes. I could vaguely make out the blurry shape of the girl, reaching out a shaky hand towards me, whimpering, “No. Don’t leave me, kitty. Not only after a month...”

Mustering the remainder of my strength, I gave out a deep, rumbly purr. The girl had rescued me when I was small and helpless, and now I had rescued her.

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Title: My imaginary friend
Word count: 504

Ever since I was born, I had a best friend. Her name was Teresa.

She had jet-black hair that was tied into a messy ponytail by a red ribbon, and two thick locks of hair dangled beside her face. Her eyes were hazel brown and were always animated and full of light. Her small mouth moved rapidly as she chattered about anything and everything, and it never failed to end up as a wide grin that lit up her whole face.

Teresa and I were as thick as thieves. We slept together. We played together. We quarreled with each other. And we cried together. We were inseparable. Every single moment of my early life was spent with her by my side. Whenever I played with Teresa, though, my parents would always chuckle and share a secret smile. Teresa usually brushed this off without sparing a thought about my parent’s weird behaviour, but I found it most confusing and suspicious.

My relationship with Teresa changed in primary school.

As I nervously stepped into Henry Park Primary School, clutching Teresa’s hand tightly, I caught snippets of my parent’s conversation. “What will others think of our Sophie when they see her talking to thin air?” My mother fretted as my father soothed her with reassuring words. I shook my head and sighed. Mom never really did think Teresa was real in the first place, but seriously, comparing her with thin air was a bit too drastic. I mentioned this to Teresa, who nodded vigorously in agreement.

During the first few days of school, I was contented with hanging out with Teresa in the corner of the canteen. I attracted a few stares as I played Tic-Tac-Toe with Teresa, but I gradually came to ignore them.

After one week, however, a girl approached me. She was dressed immaculately in school uniform, and her short blonde hair only reached her collar. Tiny freckles dotted her cheeks, and her dimples showed when she grinned at me. “Hello! I’m Stephanie! Would you like to play hopscotch with me?”

“Sure!” I replied enthusiastically. I was already warming to Stephanie’s friendliness. I raced after my new friend, laughing and giggling with her as we jumped about, with Teresa slowly slipping from my mind…

It was probably then that it started. From that moment onwards, I spent less and less time with Teresa and more and more time with Stephanie. Even during those few moments with my childhood friend, Teresa’s features eventually became harder to visualise, and her movements and expressions harder to make out. Finally, she kind of faded away from my mind.

About twenty years later, I was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a mug of warm coffee and gazing lovingly at my daughter. She was tossing a ball about, throwing it into the air, at the wall, and sometimes, at thin air.

At thin air.

Something tickled the back off my mind. Piqued by curiosity, I asked my daughter, “Who are you playing with?”

Her scornful reply; “Can’t you see Rebecca?”

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Title: That one hour
Word count: 541

The rain had finally stopped.

I checked my watch. It was two in the afternoon.

I stepped off the coarse cement, and onto the grass. It felt like treading on a large green pillow, spongy and soft. My bare feet sank into the cold mud and produced squelching sounds as I continued my stroll. My eyes idly followed a trail of ants scuttling across the brink of the pavement, communicating with long thin sticks attached to their heads. I admired the strength in their front jaws as they struggled to carry food nearly twice their size and weight.

Gradually, my attention was captivated by a little furry brown creature. Holding its tail erect for balance, it boldly leaped from one tree to another. I stood stock still, mesmerised by its courage and dare. As the squirrel landed on an oak tree, it suddenly caught sight of me. It dug its sharp claws deep into the wood and pinned me down with an unblinking stare. Its piercing black eyes seemed to penetrate my skin, and I could not help trembling slightly with fear. Its whole body was rigid with wariness, and his muscles were tensed, ready to make a quick getaway if necessary.

A few minutes passed, with both sides eyeing each other cautiously, as if challenging the latter to make its move first. Finally, a flash of grey broke the tension. The squirrel bolted immediately, racing up the bark and disappearing among the clusters of lush green leaves.

I shifted my attention to the ‘distractor.' It was a pigeon, with a grey neck and a white cloak. It landed its flight on the branch directly above me. As its feet grappled onto the wood, the whole branch shook, causing tiny water droplets to slide off from the leaves and plop onto my head and run down my face. Chuckling, I used my shirt to wipe my glasses.

As I tilted my head to the sky, delight coursed through my veins-the sun was peeking its shy head from behind the clouds! Up in the sky, a few birds were chirping gaily, as if attempting to coax out the ball of light.

I glanced at my watch again. It was three.

‘Dong!’ At that moment, a loud bell resounded from a nearby building. Children poured out from its front doors, clutching thick books to their chest and discussing complex terms such as respiration and photosynthesis. Upon spotting me standing in the grass, my feet caked in mud, and my body damp with perspiration, they raced over. Over and over again they tested me on Scientific facts, and over and over again they cackled with laughter as I was forced to admit my ignorance. After a few minutes, the joke finally grew old, and the group drifted off. I stared after them, fury and hatred racing through me. Frustration wracked my head, with one question circling in my brain; why was I homeschooled? Why didn’t my mother let me join a neighbourhood school like everyone else?

Later, after many years when I grew up and became a Scientist, I understood.

In that precious hour, when everyone else was cramming facts from the textbook into their head, I was in reality building up my skills of observation.

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Title: Fear of that woman
Word count: 153

I shuffled my feet, keeping my head bowed as I joined the long dragon. I restlessly fiddled about with my black wallet, jiggling its contents about, trying to still my anxious nerves but to no avail. I gulped as the end drew near. Behind a counter stood a middle-aged woman, a stained apron tied around her waist. Her hard black eyes seemed to bore holes into any customer that dared to keep her waiting, and her swift hands dished out platefuls of rice in a blink of an eye. When it finally came to my turn, she stood with her arms akimbo, her right foot tapping impatiently.

“One plate of chicken rice, please.” I managed to stutter.

The woman gave a brief nod and exchanged a lukewarm plate with my purple note. I heaved a great sigh of relief as I stumbled to a nearby seat.

Now that wasn’t so scary, was it?

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Title: If only
Word count: 509

“And the class highest scorer is… Una Fairchild!”

The class burst into applause as I approached the front of the class. Giving me one of her rare smiles of approval, my Mathematics teacher handed me a posh paper full of ticks, with the gleaming numbers ‘ninety upon hundred’ on the top right-hand corner. Beaming from ear to ear, I slipped back into my seat. How thrilled and proud my mother would be when I told her the great news!

“Careless child!”

I flinched as that ugly stick stung my palm once more, leaving red and white stripes on the smooth surface. My mother’s wrinkled face was full of vexation, and her matted black hair swished about wildly. Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration as poisonous arrows shot from her tongue and pierced my heart. “Foolish girl! You practically threw those marks away!” I eyed her malicious, spiteful mouth with disdain. Pent up shame and indigent bubbled up in me, threatening to spill over the brim. As she raised the dreaded cane over her head to unleash another attack, the volcano inside me exploded. I grabbed the cane forcefully and flung it to the ground.

My mother froze, stunned.

I glared at her, the fire in my eyes so intense it could burn stone. I could feel resentment spreading throughout my whole body. “How could you do this to me?” I yelled straight in her face. “How could you? I was the top scorer! What do a few marks matter?” I was almost screaming at the top of my lungs. My mother was trembling all over, whether it was with fear or anger, I couldn’t care less. I had yet to deal the killing blow. “I thought the marks would please you, but now…” I met her gaze squarely.

“I wish you’d just die!”

With that, I turned about stiffly and stormed off. I heard a faint cry of, “Una, wait!”, followed by a loud thump. My mother had toppled headfirst out of her wheelchair in a bid to catch up to me, and all the medical life support tubes attached to her were in a tangled mess. A sense of pity tugged at me to help her, but my pride forced me to turn my back on her and march off, leaving my mother, raising a weak hand in my direction, calling my name helplessly.

My mother died the very next day.

The day of her death is forever etched in my mind. I can still recall the details as clear as if it was only yesterday; the nurse breaking the news, my mother’s cold hand, her still body. Oh, if only. If only I had looked past the anger in her eyes, and seen her love for me. If only I had noticed her chest heaving more rapidly than usual, and how her words could only come in short phrases at a time. If only I had cast my fury aside and helped her back into her wheelchair. If only…

If only I had a chance to say sorry.

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This is my CPIB essay because I can't think of anything else to write. Feel free to give me inspiration :-)

Title: What was her name?
Word count: 800

There was a flash of red as the cloth pouch flew out of the henchman’s grasp. Time seemed to stand still, as if someone had pressed a ‘pause’ button. The cloth pouch sailed through the air, over our heads, and into a pair of grubby hands.

✳✳✳

I could remember my father heeding a plea for an affordable serum to tackle a contagious disease known as SASMO among the poor. I could picture my father's elation as he celebrated his success; a blue liquid in a test tube which he stashed in a red cloth pouch. I could sense my father’s vexation as he pondered over how the serum could pass corrupted officials to reach the intended users. I could recall my father’s look of dismay as men immaculate in black uniform marched into his laboratory and demanded the serum for the mayor's use. And I will never forget my father’s shaky voice as he stuffed the cloth pouch into my hands, along with a whispered instruction.

“Run, Jasper.”

I still wince whenever I think of my desperate flight, ducking into dark alleys and squeezing through narrow lanes. My heart still thumps uncontrollably with fear as I recollect the sound of the henchman’s footsteps pounding after me. I still cannot describe the horror I felt when I came to a dead end, when the henchman seized the cloth pouch, and when the pouch fell into the hands of a stranger during our violent scuffle.

The girl jumped as the pouch landed with a thump in her open hands. She stared at the pouch uncertainly, peering at it with innocent blue eyes before shifting her gaze upwards. The burly henchman tossed me aside as if I were merely a sack of potatoes, leaving me to scramble to my feet as he took intimidating steps towards the girl. She cowered under his towering frame and trembled as he barked out, “Hand over that pouch now!” His eyes darted briefly to the pouch, and with a jolt, his fear dawned on me - one more inch, and the pouch would slide out of her hands. I shuddered at the thought of my father’s hard work, spilling out onto the filthy pavement and seeping through cracks among paving stones if the glass test tube broke.

A sinister smile crept over the henchman’s face. Fumbling in his pocket, he fished out a crisp green note and waved it under the girl’s nose. The girl’s eyes widened, and she glanced down at her torn and ragged clothes, running her hands through her tangled chestnut-brown hair before gazing back longingly at the bank note. The money would mean so much to herself, to her family. She slowly stretched her hand towards the money, and the henchman’s grin broadened as she fingered it gently.

It was then that I finally found my voice.

“No…” I croaked. My voice was so soft and weak that it was barely audible. “NO!” My voice regained its strength. “No! Don’t give it to him! His boss only cares about the money! Other poor, impoverished people need it so much more! Please! You have to listen! Please…” I trailed off.

The girl was clearly on the horns of a dilemma. Her eyes flickered rapidly from me, to the bank note, and then back to me. She chewed on her long fingernails nervously as two pairs of eyes fixated on her, awaiting her verdict with bated breath.

Casting an apologetic look at me, she plopped the cloth pouch into the henchman’s rough hands and accepted the money.

The henchman beamed, chuckling gleefully at his triumph as he marched off to report the success of his mission. I collapsed onto the ground, helplessness engulfing me like an avalanche. Sobs racked my body, and tears trickled down my cheeks. All bright images of needy sick people returning to the pink of health disappeared in a poof of smoke. I had failed. The society was too tainted with corruption and greed for money. Now all the profits of my father’s hard work would go to some rich and powerful personnel, while the lower class would have to suffer, with the vaccine discovered but not affordable.

“Hey there.”

I raised my head to give the girl a death stare.

My jaw dropped.

I goggled at the test tube held by her fingers, slightly smudged with dirt but clearly showing a blue liquid.

The girl smiled awkwardly, placed the test tube in the center of my palm, and gently pressed my fingers over it.

“Good luck,” she murmured.

I returned a tender smile, got to my feet, dusted myself off and dashed down the path.

Only when the vaccine was safely delivered into the gloved hands of a trusted doctor did a single regret hit me.

What was her name?

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In case you don't know what that is either

# data[].attributes.body
In case you don't know what it is.

# data[].attributes.body
Title: The World in 2020
Word count: 736 (Is that long enough?)

I checked my surroundings. My eyes swiveled left and right, searching for prying eyes.

No one was watching.

Still on high alert, I tiptoed towards a wall of green. As I squeezed through a small gap in the hedge, the branches caressed my face and entangled my hair playfully. I grinned in anticipation as a thin sliver of pure sunlight peeked through the cracks in the branches.

Finally, I burst onto the other side, shaking leaves from my hair and gaping at the beautiful sight that awaited me. The scene of greenery greeted me on every daily visit, yet it never ceased to take my breath away. Instead of the typical plastic trees that lined the sides of roads, ancient oaks wearing rough and knobby brown clothes stood proud and erect. Their twisted branches stretched out, displaying the glory of their leaves to the sun. If one looked hard enough, one would see the spindly lines that wove through the leaves and notice the tiny bugs that scuttled along its surfaces.

Yanking off my shoes, I raced across the field, laughing wildly, relishing the feel of soft moss under my feet instead of hard cement. Tilting my head to the blue sky, I filled my lungs with fresh air and expelled the unpleasant smell of gas and smoke emitted from factories

Perched on the lowest branches of the trees, an Eastern Bluebird warbled a lively tune, puffing out its orange chest. I smiled fondly at it and gently stroked its blue cape of feathers which flowed from the top of its little head to the pointed tip of its tail. It felt similar to the texture of my teddy bear which was made of artificial cotton, except this was so much warmer. As my fingers ran down its smooth back, I blissfully immersed myself in the light and merry tune that escaped from his beak, a refreshing change from the honks and screeches from the vehicles on the busy road.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something unbelievable. I gasped in amazement. Never in a thousand years had I expected to see it bloom! I hastily rushed over to a corner where I had planted a treasure, a hibiscus. It used to be a common sight everywhere in the world, until the government pulled them all up and replaced them with flowers made of silk, claiming they looked more natural. Natural my foot.

I crouched next to the precious gem. The center of the flower was dark and deep but gradually changed into a dark pink hue that covered a large expanse of the middle of the flower. As it spread across the flower’s large petals, it turned a lighter shade, until it blended into a faint orange and ended off bright yellow at the edges of the petals. From the core of the flower, a thin stem emerged, showing off its shawl of yellow dust and a crown of pink ‘mushrooms’. I could not resist gazing at that piece of art, my eyes full of admiration.

Suddenly, there was the crackling of sticks behind me. I froze. A long, black shadow cast ominously over me. My heart beat faster and faster, and beads of sweat were forming on my brow as I slowly turned around.

My worst fears were confirmed.

Leering over me was my heartless older brother. Already, a fistful of leaves was clutched in his greedy right hand. Throwing a smirk at me, he shoved me to the side and seized the hibiscus which I had so painstakingly cultivated. Ignoring my pleas for mercy, he gave it a vicious tug.

The hibiscus seemed to shriek as it was ripped from its stem, just like my heart which was wrenched in two. My brother teasingly held the delicate flower just above my reach as I tried futilely to get it back. Amidst the helpless tears that were clouding my vision, I could make out the blurry image of the flower crumpling in his hands.

That was not all.

With a malicious grin on his face, he stomped around the perimeter of the garden, pulling out roses and tulips, kicking trees, and squashing insects. When his rampage was finally completed to satisfaction, he gave me one last smug look before struggling back through the hedge.

I surveyed all the destruction.

It looked just like the outside world then, in 2020.

# data[].attributes.body
Title: Rain
Word count: 203

A thick mass of blackness approached at a steady speed. It loomed over the ground, casting a shadow of dismay and disappointment. Thin wisps of grey emerged from it, reaching out and forcefully pushing blue and white out of its way. As it unleashed its mighty battle drums, little toddlers shrieked at the sound and raced for cover while boys in bright blue and red shirts sighed. A shrill siren filled the air, bringing with it precaution of the imminent danger.

Finally, it came to a halt, standing triumphantly over a vast stretch of green grass. Tiny cold arrows emerged from deep within it, piercing the ground, bringing relief to some and grumbles from others. It soaked through the field, turning the tightly-packed soil into a muddy mush, collecting in large clusters and speeding through drains.

Still, some stubborn folks refused to yield to the drizzle and obstinately continued to kick their black and white balls contentedly. It was almost like a battle, with the pelting of rain ever increasing in velocity and brutality.

Unexpectedly, the weather was the first to concede. It shrunk back into a white fluffy cloud, drifting peacefully across the azure blue sky until it disappeared out of sight.

# data[].attributes.body
Title: Lost?
Word count: 172

Panic flared in me as I frantically searched my surroundings, desperate for a hint of sky blue. “No! Don’t tell me I lost it…” I emptied out my bag. Books, files, and worksheets passed through the scanner of my eagle eyes and were rejected one by one. Anxiety and frustration mounted in me as my pile of ‘unchecked’ materials grew smaller and smaller. When I finally tossed the last file over my shoulder, helplessness crashed onto me like a tsunami wave. It was well and truly lost. Gone. Forever.

Just when things could not get any worse, I heard the familiar clack of high heels. My form teacher stood before me, her arms akimbo and a frown of disapproval on her tight-lipped face. Reaching out a long stick-like hand, she seized the nearest exercise book and shook it in my face.

“What is the meaning of this mess, young lady?”

I was not listening. For a small, light blue card had slipped silently out of the book and fallen onto my lap.

# data[].attributes.body
Title: My sister
Word count: 190 words

My little sister sits on the piano bench.

Her jaws set in grim determination, she starts to play. Loud, stocky sounds ring out as she slams her hands down. Her eyes flicker from the scoresheet to the piano keys and then rapidly return to the piece of paper. As a harsh note slides out, she stiffens, picks out her mistake, sighs, then restarts. When she finally pushes down the last key, she looks up expectantly, flashing a toothy grin as she absorbs my words of praise.

<10 years later>

My younger sister sits on the piano bench.

Slowly, serenely, and at her pace, she starts. Her slender fingers glide over the piano keys, and her feet gently push down pedals. Beautiful notes emerge from the wooden instrument, blending into the other sounds that follow. Her relaxed posture sways with the music, and her eyes remain closed, letting the music wash over her. As the last few notes fade into silence, applause erupts from the audience. She bows to accept the praises; yet her eyes scan the crowd, searching. They eventually come to rest on me.

She smiles.

“Well done,” I whisper.