Sample Essay

Write a composition of about 350 words on one of the following topics.

1.      Describe ways to make school a fun place for students.

2.      Completing your first degree is no longer enough to secure a good job. Discuss.

 3.      Write about the advantages and disadvantages of taking selfies.

4.      Write an account of an incident that you witnessed while jogging.

Begin your story with: ‘I couldn’t believe my eyes …’

5.      ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’

Describe how this proverb has affected your life. 

Section B  (Question 4)

 I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was standing there, with a bunch of balloons in his hands, spreading him arms as if he was about to hug the child in front of him. My pace slowed down till I halted. That man standing in front of me, was he really the person I thought he was? He still had that charming smile on his face, his hair was still dark and brown, his suit still looked expensive, his height made people look like dwarves and that small dimple still appeared at his left cheek. It was him. It was really him. I dazed and my heartbeat was still beating fast from the jog. The heartbeat didn’t matter. What mattered was the painful ache I felt in my heart as I watched him happily playing with the child. The child could not be any older than three years old. Was that his daughter? I wondered to myself even though I knew the answer was crystal clear. Who else could it be? 

I didn’t notice when the teardrop fell to my cheeks. I didn’t realise my breathing was uneven. All I knew was it suddenly felt painful to breathe oxygen into my lungs. The normal act of breathing which happened so naturally every day, suddenly became complicated. I fell to my knees, my hands clasping the shirt I was wearing. I tried to calm down but it was so hard. All I felt was pain. Every single air that I breathed in felt like knife poking my lungs. What was going on with me? I could not even open my eyes. My vision darkened. 

“She’s having a panic attack!” I heard someone scream.

            I have only heard of hyperventilation before. I never imagined I would experience it. I could not take the pressure anymore. I felt like every breath I took did not supply any oxygen to my body. I stopped trying to fight. Maybe dying was not such a bad thing. The pain would stop right? Or so I thought. Apparently God decided it was not time for me to leave yet. I opened my eyes slowly and the first thing that I felt was how hoarse my throat was. I felt a hand passing a bottle of water to me. I drank it without waiting for a second to pass. And then I looked up to thank the person. I wish I didn’t; because now I could not run. He looked at me with a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

            I wanted to die that instant. How was I supposed to answer that question? Should I stay quiet? Should I open up the things I kept in my heart for the past nine years? Should I scream to his face and tell him he was the reason I was in pain? Should I just break down and let all the tears that I held inside flow out? Should I smack him hard? Should I just give him a smirk? Should I lie? All these questions floated in my mind and I uttered a single reply,

“I’m okay, thanks”.

            I tried to stand so that I could walk away. I could not see his face any longer but how I despised myself at that moment. As much as I felt a strong hatred towards this man in front of me, I also wanted to run into his arms, hug him, cry and say that I miss him. I miss him every second of my life. I miss him during breakfast, lunch and dinner. I miss him every time I see a father spending time with his daughter. I miss having him in my life. But I could not bring him back. I could not make my father be a father to me. He stopped becoming that the day he walked out of my life with his new wife.  

            I ran so that he could not catch me. I did not want him to notice it was me. It has been nine years; I wouldn’t be surprised if he did not know it was me. I was only six when he walked out of the house. I did not understand what was going on. I waved goodbye to him, not knowing that was the last day he set foot on that ground. After that I waited for him every day. I asked my mom again and again and she just said he was not coming back. He has a new life and I am no longer part of it. How could I digest all that when I was six? I grew to hate my mom. I hated her for not stopping my dad from leaving. I hated her for not trying hard enough. I had no idea the pain that she felt at that time.

            And then I grew up. I started to hate going to any social events. Birthdays, parties, sports day – it all reminded me that I was fatherless. I could never blame all these people around me. I could never get angry when Alice’s father immediately ran to her when she fell during the school marathon. I could not complain when Stacy’s father took a day leave from work to be with her on her birthday. I could not be jealous with Tania while she wrote letters with her father because he was in army. I could only be happy for them and long for it again and again. I long to be given just one chance to feel a father’s love again. Just one chance, but I was real enough to know it was just a dream that would never come true.

            Mom had a conference there. That’s why I was staying miles away from home. We were supposed to be there for a week. I accompanied her since it was school holiday. I never expect to see my father in the park. One day I saw the melancholy in my mom’s eyes and I knew I should stop blaming her for everything that happened nine years ago. It was hard enough to lose a husband, I should not be the daughter who hated her mom. That day I learned to be on my mother’s side. I have to be strong for her, who stayed in my life and never walked away. I grew to be protective of her. That’s why it hurts so much when I wanted to run into his embrace. I could not betray my mom. 

            I looked at my father from afar, hoping that he would not notice me. He played with his daughter with the balloons that he bought. I have always loved balloons. God finally answered my prayer. He was finally there, right in front of me. And he was euphoric. You could never escape from noticing that. He loved his new family so much. I let the tears stream down to my cheeks. There was no use holding it in anymore. I was erupting with emotions and crying was the only way to express the pain. This had to be God’s answer to my questions. I should really stop hoping that he would come back into my life. 

            I wiped my tears and turned around. The forlorn in my heart would never disappear, I understood that finally. I did not register myself to be a sad sack, but I would reign myself to overcome it. I guess this meeting was a closure. A closure that God had given me. I walked away from him, leaving all the memories and hopes that I built behind me. I did not want to push him from cloud nine. I would rather move on and accept the fact that he would no longer be part of my life. Through every foot step I took, I said goodbye. When I finally reached home to my mom, I hugged her and told her I love her. She looked at me with a weird expression on her face. I wish I could tell her what happened, but I did not want her to feel the pain that I felt. So I just said, “I was hoping you could cook my favourite food today” and she laughed. She had no idea...  

VOCABULARIES & IDIOMS
1. hyperventilation - the state of breathing faster than necessary
2. sad sack - an inept, blundering person (idiom)
3. cloud nine - a feeling of extreme happiness (idiom)
4. Closure - an occurrence that signifies an ending

Short Story

 Road Back to Reality

"Hello?! Are you paying or not?" the bus driver brought me back to reality.

"How much Uncle?" He's not really my uncle. We Malaysians refer to strangers with such names.

"Where you going?" I have no idea honestly. I made a stupid face hoping that he'd help me out. He didn't. The bus conductor did. He told me the furthest place the bus travels. Money exchanged hands and I walked to the end of the bus, minding my own business.

          I didn't even know where the bus was heading to. Yet I was on it, going to God knows where. I didn't have anywhere to go. I just wanted to leave. No notes behind, no letters, no explanation whatsoever. I just decided and walked out of my house. Wait, not my house. My parents' house. I didn't even pack my clothes. No one would have guessed I left. My completed homework arranged neatly on the desk, my dirty clothes stayed in the rag, my clothes ready for school tomorrow. Nothing was absurd. The only missing entity in the room was me. I could bet on my life no one would notice I wasn't around. Not even mak and ayah. Why would they notice? They were always busy looking after my younger siblings. Ayah was always at the mosque. Mak was always nagging and shouting.

          A couple caught my attention. The girl looked at the boy with gleaming eyes as if he's the most handsome lad on earth. They boy acted tough by talking about things as if he knew everything. These kids could not have been any older than ten-year-olds. Yet they're behaving like teenagers who just fell in love. Do kids these days really know how to be a kid anymore? They were supposed to be playing police and thief instead of being in monkey love so soon. What do they know about love? Having a crush should be the biggest thing they go through with the opposite sex. What's with this talk about valentines day and presents? It looked amusing and scary at the same time. Before she knew it, all her false perceptions on love will shatter and she will be crying for hours in her room.

          "Go and advise your sister. I can't stand her drama anymore!" Mak's yelling had always been a buzz on my ears. What did she do now? I had no idea. I knocked several times knowing how important 'privacy' was for her. I kicked the door to scare her. She still did not respond.

"Adik! I'm coming in!" Tissues everywhere, headphone on her ears and her hands were scribbling something in her diary. I had always been a light footer. She would never notice me walking behind her. I peeked through her scribbles trying to understand what was going on. Poetry. A good way to express one's emotion. The pages of her diary were wet. I looked around again and saw torn pictures on the floor. I don't think she would be in the mood to talk to me so I left her room.

'Adik'
'Mende jgn kacau lah'
'Why are you moping alone in your room?'
'Leave me alone. Nobody understands'
'Try me'
'I just wanna be alone. Go away'
'I give you 3 days. After that stop crying, stop thinking, stop being sad. Move on.'
'3 days is not enough'
'I don't care. Mak is worried sick about you. Stop making her worried.'
'Abang'
'Apa?'
'It hurts like hell'
'Serves you right' I knew that was a bit harsh. But I did it anyway. She was supposed to focus on her studies. What made her think she can handle being in love? She stayed silent for a few seconds. Our whatsapp conversation seemed like it would end there. Then I sent another reply.
'Return back to Allah, tu pun nak kena ajar ke?'
'(T.T) Thank you Abang'

          At least my sister was in Form 4. These kids in front of me, they're still in primary school. My sister was sixteen, and she definitely took more than 3 days to get over it. She looked normal after 3 days but I knew she was just pretending in front of everyone. I heard her tears in the middle of the night. In her sujud, she cried and poured everything to God. At least she's doing that instead of harming herself or wasting her time doing stupid things. Will the girl in front of me be able to do the same? I felt angry for nothing. She's not even my relative and I became this concerned. I wonder how her mother would feel knowing about this? Or perhaps she was the modern type who supports these kinda things? I have always been conservative. Maybe that's why it's bothering me so much.

          I looked out the window, not wanting to engross myself with the kids in front of me. The sky was very solemn on that day, just like my heart. The grumbles were a warning that they sky might not be able to hold back its tears today. Dear sky, don't cry. Please don't. The window that I'm leaning on is not working. I won't be able to close it. I don't want to get wet. Please hold your tears until I reach my destination. I don't even have other clothes to change if I get wet. And, a few seconds after that a heavy downpour fell. Right into my window. I hate you sky. I really hate you.

          The bus conductor came and helped close the window. "Tingkap ni dah berkarat. Sebab tu ketat sikit. Tapi boleh tutup ni. Tolong sekali, nanti makin basah". It felt like a useless thing to do. We gave it our all and the window did not budge an inch. I was about to give-up when it finally moved upward, following the direction of our push. "Ha boleh pun. Buat kerja sama-sama kan cepat dapat hasil" I smiled at him. Of all the buses, why did I have to pick this bus? I could have entered a bus with air-conditioner, but no, I picked a mini bus! And look what happened to me? "Abang, jauh lagi ke?" "Lagi setengah jam sampai la" Great! Another half an hour in this mini bus and I'll be away from home.

          I glanced at my watch. I have only been away for an hour. My brothers and sisters would be back from school by now. They will think that I'm studying quietly inside. No one will notice I was miles away. I do that during every examination. I will isolate myself from my siblings. As if finding peace to study. I said as if because I can still hear their fights and screams through the door. At least they won't pester me. That's the only difference. Will they be worried if they realise I was gone? Will my mom cry? Those are just insignificant matters. The real question is, Do I matter in their life? Will their life change without me? Is this why I'm running away? To get the answers to these questions? My train of thought was interrupted by the buzz of my phone.

'Where are you?' I knew my younger sister would notice.
'Somewhere'
'Kata nak ajar add math'
'I left the notes on my table'
'I'll ask you if I don't understand later'

          She wouldn't ask me. She's a smart girl, she understands my notes. If she did text me again, it would be because she's worried. She knew something's off but she didn't want to freak out. I knew her that much.
 
'Ei mengada la. Abg pergi mana ni? Gila ke?'  

          I can't help but to let out a chuckle. See. I knew she's worried.

'I'm still in Malaysia. Just need to get away for a while'
'Why? What happened?'
'Nothing happened. I just need to find some answers' 
'Why travel so far when you could just do istikharah?'

          That startled me. I used to be the one who advises her. Now my younger sister is returning back the advices to me. I won't deny it, I feel embarrassed with her. I should be a good role model to her but here I am, running away from home. I can't turn back. My heart was set and no one could stop me.

'Don't tell Mak. She'll be worried. I'm fine honestly. Take care, Adik'
'I really wanna kick your ass right now but I'll save that to when you come back. You better come back or I'll find you and make sure you regret your decision'   
'Oooooh takutnya. I have a black belt Adik, jangan berangan!'
'Don't underestimate me. I know your weak point. Takyah belajar silat pun tau'
'That's cheating and God hates cheaters'
'I hate you. If you don't come back I won't forgive you'

          First question answered. Do I really need to find all the answers today? Will I be able to get the answers? I jolted to the front as the bus stopped. Everyone got up. I guess this is the last stop for today. The call of prayers set me back to melancholy. I searched for a nearby mosque to perform my Maghrib prayer. After praying, I stayed to listen to the Tazkirah by the Imaam. He talked about mothers. Just when I'm being an imbecile, the Imaam talked about mothers? It hit me right through the core. What was I thinking running away from home? She must be worried sick if she knew I was gone. A shed of tear fell as I thought of all the hardships my mom had to go through in order to raise us up. How could I do this to her?

          After Isya' prayer the jemaah invited  me to have supper together. I felt so welcomed around them. They talked about life and I just sat there, observing everyone in silence. I saw a mother feeding her child and was reminded of my mom. I had everything that I needed in this world. A house to live in, a parents, siblings, what else do I want? An old man patted my back and spoke to me, "Young man, you look troubled. What's bothering you?" I was surprised that he spoke to me in English. "Why? Can't an old man speak English to a young lad like you?" I smiled. Could he read my mind?

"I ran away from home" He looked deep into my eyes in disbelief.
"And why is that?" I don't have the answer. I just wanted to run away. My eyes started to water.
"I heard my mom and dad talking last night. My dad got into trouble again. People are searching for him because of his debt. I can't imagine what would happen if they take him away. I wanted to work and help him pay the debt but he wouldn't let me. He asked me to finish my studies. I can't just sit in the house and do nothing about it. I'm the eldest in the house. Everyone else is too young to understand. I can't talk about this with anyone. I'm tired of keeping it all to myself"

          I lost control and cried helplessly. I've been trying to keep it inside but I can't anymore. I just wanted all the burden to disappear. I know it's stupid to run away from home, I know running away is not the answer. I just needed to do something besides doing nothing in the house. I'm keeping up with my studies. I have been able to maintain my scores. Why can't my dad understand that I can help him? I don't want to feel useless in the house. The old man listened to my woes and sorrows. He did not do much talking. He just listened and wanted me to pour everything out. When I was done, he asked me where do I live. He looked at his watch and asked me when do I plan to go back home?

          If I could, I don't want to get back home. What use would it be? The problem would still bother me. I told the old man that I need to clear my head. He asked me to follow him. We took a drive to the beach. He sat next to me without saying anything. He asked me to listen to the sound of waves. I closed my eyes and listened to it intently. It brought peace to my heart. I could listen to it all day long and not get tired of it. Then he asked me to lie down and look at the stars above. I felt like a child. For once, I'm following orders instead of giving one. The stars were a pretty sight to behold. Without understanding why, my heart was morose again.

"Don't hold back the tears, my child. No one's here. Just let it out"

          Like magic, those words broke the dam on my eyes. I know crying does not solve the problem. I just feel so tired, that's all. I am not the crying type. I don't even cry after watching Petronas commercials or a sad sappy movie. That night, it seemed my eyes were haunted by the ghost of tears. I could not stop crying. After some time, I got tired of crying. I felt like sleeping. The night was cold and the stars were like blankets to me. The old man shook my body before I could fall asleep. He invited me to sleep over at his house. I rejected the offer, not wanting to be a burden to him. I could just sleep at the mosque anyway. He told me that no one dared to sleep at the mosque after an incident. I stopped him and accepted the offer to sleep at his house instead.

          He told me that he'll drive me back to my house before Subuh prayer. Again, I refused to be a burden to him. I could just ride on the bus again tomorrow. He insisted on doing so because he did not want me to miss class. He would send me just in time to be ready for school. I think he forgot the fact that I would be beaten to death by my father first. That would make me be late for school anyway. I'm not in a rush to be beaten for good. As soon as I put my head on the pillow, I fell into slumber. The tears probably drained my energy away. I dreamed of my family that night. All of us, eating on the table. I was so happy in the dream. As if the problem went away.

          I was awoken by the old man at 3 am. He brought me to the mosque for Tahajjud prayer and drove me back to my hometown right after that. I was quiet throughout the journey. Finding courage to face my parents I guess. We reached my hometown just in time for Subuh prayer. I showed the old man the nearest mosque to my house. We prayed and guess what? My father was the Imaam. After prayer he saw me and I was scared to death. The old man shook hands with him and talked. After they talked, the old man went to me and gave his last advice. I said thank you to him endlessly for the help that he gave me. He invited me to come over for coffee next time. I said it's a promise. I owed him that much.

         Then, my father came to me and slapped my face. I deserved that. I stood still, letting him do more than just slapping. To my dismay, he hugged me instead. He told me how worried he was all night. He wanted to do a police report but I had to be missing for 24 hours before he could file any report. He brought me home and my mother was waiting at the door. I could not look at her face. I knew how disappointed she must be with me. As soon as I set foot on the ground, my mother came to me with tears in her eyes.

"Mak, Abang minta maaf" I bent down to her hands to seek forgiveness. She pulled her hands away and beat me instead. I let her heat me. I knew I deserved the beatings. She cried and told me that I will never be allowed to enter the house if I repeat this running away episode again. I agreed to the condition and just hugged her while begging for forgiveness. That day, I learned something new. I was gone for a few hours and that brought me to the road back to reality.

- THE END - 

Note from the author : It's been so long since I last wrote a short story. I hope this does not bring you to boredom. Teenagers are always on the pursuit of finding answers. In doing so, sometimes they took some actions that are perceived as being rebellious. Maybe they are being rebellious, but for what reason? No one would run away from a bed of roses. Some people return back to Allah, some people find answers at the wrong place. Whatever dilemma we have, we should always remember that we have the power to decide and choose which path to take. May all of my students be able to choose the right path no matter how troubled they become someday.