Chaza Abdallah | 10G1 It was a bright, warm morning of spring, when Mr. Charlie was serenely seated outside in his peaceful backyard drinking a tender cup of coffee and dunking delicious, crunchy biscuits into a bowl of sweet honey. He was extremely mesmerized by the stunning view of the spacious green fields which were engulfed by a large amount of splendid, vibrant flowers and the pure blue sky that was slightly shaded with rainbow colors. As the effulgent sun commenced to block the view of the calm sky Mr.Charlie tilted his skinny head downwards gazing again at the beauty of the village. Suddenly Rose a little young girl walking through the narrow road that cut between Mr.Charlie’s antiquated house and the bushy forests of the village, he was not shocked with her appearance because it was what he saw every morning. Rose was carrying jars of water which seemed heavy for her. Her skinny, fair body and the jars were about to fall to the side as well as her petite, freckly hands were about to cause the jars to slip out at any moment. “Hello Mr. Charlie” she squalled, he gave her a sincre, wide smile. Her actions caught his attention; he began to continuously gaze at her. The melodious whistles of the birds that were standing on the thick branches of the bushy, large trees struck her ear drums which caused her to stop for a while put the jars aside and close the two wide, hazel holes on her exhausted face allowing the wind to sway her long, frizzy hair as well as her white dress which was at its worst conditions coated with patches of dust that made it look grey and ripped from almost every side. Her words while closing her eyes slipped out of her mouth with a shiver “I hope Olga does not catch me not doing my wearying job!” she exclaimed , it sounded like she was a bird which flew out of its cage for freedom. After a while she opened her eyes facing a group of youngsters joyfully singing while going to school. As she froze continuously glancing at them, they were given the look of deep jealousy. Mr. Charlie was able to realize the envy through her dull eyes and face expressions. She determinedly wanted to be a student like them instead of being a slave for the women that she abhorred. Mr. Charlie felt sympathetic towards Rose’s conditions and feelings he thought to himself for a few moments about how he can be kind and help her out to make her feel happy about her miserable life after watching her almost every day doing her tiring labors . Making sure she does not leave he speeded up his thinking. Fortunately he found a way to help her but first he commanded her to leave everything aside, enter the house and not be afraid of being late. Rose was quite puzzled wondering what an aged man who lives by himself wants from her on the other hand what fat, sweaty Olga might do to her if she is late. Mr. Charlie explained to her sweetly about what he has decided “my dear Rose, I’m a lonely old man who Is about to die, It would be an honor to help someone out and I choose you a young, poor orphan wishing to have a life like majority of children I would love to be the cause of your happiness and release you from the horrible conditions you are facing in your miserable life. I doubt you will accept this offer” The frustration on her face disappeared she was astonished with what she herd, her thin lips spread widely on her freckly face as tears of joy ran down her boney cheeks “I’m free, I can finally be one of them, someone actually wants to help me out oh mother oh father I wish you both were here to see this” she squalled. She asked Mr. Charlie to wait; she rushed outside and broke all the jars she was carrying with extreme hatred. Later on she went to Olga’s grossing house, she told her what happened Olga tried to stop her from leaving by threatening her with a worse life waiting ahead for her but fortunately she pushed her away and rushed away from Olga’s filthy hands. She then went to take a walk by herself thanking god for her luck and imagining her future as great as she always wished it would be.
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Alyssa Marie You remember her She would lie near the river, her short hair slightly tousled by the wind and her unkempt clothing stained by the grass. You hear her sneer at you from time to time as you attempt to skip rocks, watching as each stone sank every time. "It's all in the wrist," she would shout before getting up and showing you the proper method. You rubbed your wrists. That's what you did, wasn't it? Day after day, without fail, both of you would ride out on your bikes after school to the same river. Sometimes you beat her to it, but you often found her already lounging in the shade, fiddling with the weeds. It was the same thing every time though - you talk, you try to skip rocks, she laughs at you. You would never say it out loud, but you loved these moments. Out of the blue, she says something. "I want to live forever," she whispers in an unfamiliar sombre tone. You were 14; you didn't know how to respond to something like this. You just nodded and said that you felt the same. The split second of stiff tension should have raised an alarm in you. You remember her. She took you to a journey into the unknown. You were already skipping rocks when she arrives, and there's a look of satisfaction on her face. At first she refused to tell you, but then she flashes you a card with words you've only ever heard about. "A party," her voice trembles with elation. "A proper party." Despite how excited you sounded, you felt disappointed - threatened even. Of course she invites to sneak you in, but you shake your head and lie about how you can't. This does not faze her at all. You don't know why the rock in your hand felt so heavy. When she didn't arrive at the river, you couldn't stand it. Staying made you uneasy, but leaving was not a thought that ever crossed your mind. So you lay there, listening to the cacophony in the silence that smothered you. It was only one time, you say to yourself. She never asked about how you spent your day, instead preferring to talk about how she spent her night. From the bits and pieces you bothered to listen to, you gathered that it was a chaotic experience - something straight out from a teenage fantasy. You laughed along when she laughed, but you never understood why it was funny. What you thought was one time became two times. Two times turned into once a week. Soon it was thrice a week. She stopped offering you to come along after the fourth time. You still rode your bike to the river, even if you knew she wouldn't be there. The rocks haven't been slung in a long time. Reluctantly, you asked if you could join her for once. The look on her face almost made it worth it. Almost. It was everything you imagined. The fights, the noise, the illegal substances… it was everything you hoped it wouldn't be. It didn't have the effect you wanted. You grew to despise these parties more and the divide between you two widened, but she never noticed. You don't know why you keep trying for someone that never reciprocated your attempts. You remember her. The façade broke sooner than you expected. You've blocked out the worst of the memories, but you remember the venom in her words as you watch her ride out from the river the final time. "You wouldn't understand," her voice echoes. Yes, you didn't understand; but she didn't understand either. At 16, both of you make your separate ways. Your denial lasted for about a month, before the realization crashed down on you. You can't go back. You can't go back to skipping rocks. You can't go back to the mindless conversations. You can't go back to the river. You pretend it doesn't bother you as much as it does. You remember her. Like stubborn children, you both skirt around each other, shoulders cold and tense. You watch as she guffaws into someone's arms whenever she sees you. She avoids looking at you as you wave to your friends. They say that time heals all wounds, but somehow time just made it harder. You remember her. You were 18 when you decided that you've moved on. What used to hurt now felt more like a dull ache that you manage to forget from time to time. One day, you passed by the path that led to the river and an abrupt thought urged you to do something that you haven't done in a long time. As you stood in front of the river, your head dips into a melancholy nostalgia. Everything was the same, and you felt a sort of longing rush. Out of habit, you pick up a stone to skip, but it still proves to be a futile attempt. What were you doing wrong? "It's in the wrist," a familiar voices breaks through your reverie. You didn't even have to turn around to know it was her. She looks older and a bit haggard, but you didn't care. It was her. You try not to gape. She lies down, and admits that she never stopped going to the river. "I may have had less time, but I never stopped," she confesses. "Maybe you would come back someday." You tell her you regret everything - the sloppy goodbye, the close minded thinking, the fear of confrontation - and she stops you. She confided that she felt the same, and that it was all her fault. The parties were something she absolutely abhorred. Everyone had pressured her to do things she never wanted to do - but she complied anyways. The dark bags under her eyes and her pale skin gave you a hint. You asked about why she still attended them and she scoffs. Then her voice grows low. "I wanted to live forever. But I found out the hard way that forever wasn't for me." Her definition of forever was different from yours. To you, forever had meant permanency; a changeless course. But for her, forever had meant endless, as in a never-ending ride to distract her from her own reality. To live forever meant being ensconced in moments that felt terribly infinite to hide how finite you really were. After that, you never saw her again. You went home, leaving her near the river. A phone call came in the next day. The last stone she skipped had sank, and it takes you a while to register the news. No one would ever see her again. You would never see her again. But you remember her. And that's how she lived forever. Sanchita Shekhar | 10G3 Euthanasia should be legalized. Do we have any right over our own lives or are we surviving based on society’s obligations? Aren’t we supposed to be in possession of our own lives? Is being morally righteous applicable even as we lay motionless on our deathbeds? Are we that remorseless? Individualistically, I believe that euthanasia should be legalised. Firstly, myriads of people suffer from conditions which are untreatable; they lie in comatose waiting patiently to be kissed by the cold lips of death. How can we be so atrocious and seize their rights when they desperately await their death? Why can’t we alleviate their misery with a mere injection? Euthanasia is a sensible option for all the people inextricably suffering from comatose for more than a legitimate amount of years. Secondly, these patients are in no condition to live the same life they’ve lived before – they have been declared clinically dead. It is unrealistic to keep them alive and fund for their daily needs. It is economically insensible for the reason that they occupy bed spaces which can be used to treat patients who are in urgent need of hospitalization- patients who can actually be cured. They require a lot of assistance and constant attention from nurses who could be spending time fostering patients who can be cured. Thirdly, as a consequence of euthanasia being a global issue, it has tremendous support from the general public. The current generation of people believe that it is unwise to keep a human being alive when there are no chances are survival. Many countries around the globe have already legalised this act due to the startling amount of public support. Fourthly, in the long run, euthanasia is more inexpensive than trying to keep the person alive on ventilators. The costs of having full time assistance, food/ drips, and bed space in hospitals is indubitably more expensive than paying for the injection on a single occasion. Lastly, the families of these patients would have a higher chance recovery after the person is dead than if they constantly encountered their diseased loved one. They would be more capable of handling a tragedy at a single period of time than repeatedly having to face the same emotional state. I firmly believe that legalising euthanasia would be more beneficial than the obvious alternative for the reasons mentioned above. Not legalising euthanasia would lead to less treatable patients being treated, a less satisfied public, and more emotional distress between family members as well as lack of funds. Therefore it is exorbitantly important to legalise the act of euthanasia.
Courtney Long | 10G3 Dear Diary, I’m still unable to accept the events these past few days have brought me. It’s bizarre, relieving, overwhelming and most importantly, heart breaking. As I tightly scrunched up my eyes, the salty, moist tears slid down the side of my makeup-stained cheek. My entire head felt clammy and full of unanswered questions, I tried hard to catch my breath as it was uneasy and unpredictable. If it was physically possible, my heart hurt and I ached in places I never even knew I had inside of me. In a matter of a few weeks, my whole world had been flipped upside down for the worst. This man that I absolutely adored, admired, worshipped, was gone forever. I’d never be able to listen to his soft southern Irish voice, laugh at his lame jokes or witness the sparkle in his glistening ocean blue eyes. Why do people have to leave this realm? Where do they go? Some place greater? With God? I believe so, although I envy the fact that God is now blessed with the privilege to be surrounded by his presence. Heaven couldn’t wait for him, and I suppose I can’t blame the angels up above. He’s joined them now to look over me; he is my own personal guardian angel. Even though he may not physically be with us, I know for certain that he will never leave our thoughts, prayers or our hearts – there he will remain for eternity. When I was first informed about his passing, I was unable to comprehend what my ears had just heard. I simply closed my eyes, and fell asleep, drifting away into my own world imaginary world; no worries, no cares. A complete universe of fantasy and imagination. But, unfortunately, I was soon awoken. That’s when all my carelessness rapidly disappeared, vanished and never fully came back to me again. I was bombarded by emotion, consumed by depression and sadness, though in spite of all this, as twisted as it may seem, part of me was slightly relieved that he had really gone. He was finally able to escape the pain and misery the illness had only ever delivered for the past many years. Even though he had eventually been put out of his misery, his loved ones which he had left behind had only just began to experience true pain. I was never able to fully fathom what pain was... Until this happened to me. They say that time heals everything; all your pain, regrets and guilt, but I’m constantly haunted with the reminder of my foolishness - not informing him of how much I loved him enough, of how much he meant to me, and how much of special being he was in my life – and now, I never will be able to. He’s always in my thoughts; so many little reminders of him wander into my life all the time. I hope he’s looking down on me, and is able to read this letter. That’s all I want – for him to finally realize how much of an impact he made on my life. I miss you so much, Grandpops. Forever in my heart. |
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January 2019
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