Written Imaginative TextSupervised Conditions

Written Imaginative TextSupervised Conditions

You are one of a number of young Australian writers asked to contribute a short story for anew anthology project. The anthology will be divided into five sections: “Secrets”, “Foreign Lands”, “New Beginnings”, “Connections” and “Choices”. Your story should be approximately 600-800 words in length and must be relevant for one of the five sections mentioned above.

For you to demonstrate your understanding of the linguistic and structural conventions of the short story genre, and your ability as a writer to influence audiences through your use of language and through the creation of various perspectives and representations.

The short story anthology is intended for young adult readers.

Reconstructing My Glory: Imaginative Sample Essay 

For a long moment, I sat desperately in my usual appearance in the busy streets of Australia. I had hardly moved from my normal ‘residence’ for now more than six years. Friends came and disappeared. Obviously, they had discovered better places to spend the rest of their lives. For me, this would remain my homestead till when the reaper would take my soul. I had lost hope for life, and nothing seemed meaningful to me. Days seemed to be longer than ever before. The environment had ceased to be friendly to me a long time ago. I stayed in the land owned by the lucky and presumably I was as well their property. Who was I to complain? Lifeless things were of much value than I could be. I had no rights. And even if I had them, where would I go to appeal for them. Let me say I was content with my status and I had nothing totally to complain about.It all started at a missionary school where I was enrolled for a more advanced learning after successfully completing my basic education. It was a fine Friday evening, and everyone was sound asleep, tired of the day’s activities. HELL: it was here. Who said that we have to die to experience hell? Hell Came. The sky looked perfectly stylish with all colors. More beautiful than the rainbow. There was no time to admire the newly formed Sky at the moment. We all ran for our lives. Screaming, wailing, weeping and crying blended the normal silence in the school compound. Innocent souls ignited, buildings fall and valuables smoldered in the fire. Nobody cared for what was left behind. Run….Run …..Let your legs carry you to the nearest rescue center. Everyone was determined to get away from the Armageddon.

Finally, the morning came. Anxiety, fear, cold and loss burnt my heart. I was all alone in a big city. Where had the other schoolmates disappeared to? My life was safe but in a very new environment. I had no friends, no relatives, and no nothing. It was a total crisis. Where could I possibly find rescue? Considering the existing circumstances, nobody would accept to host a stranger at their home. However, I was hardly the type that would easily give up. I had approached several faces seeking their help, but they were all afraid of keeping me. Did I look like a mischief? Why did they decline my humble and sincere request? I had always been a good boy both at school and at home. But how could they validate this? We all have this innocent look, especially when troubled. Who was I to be exceptional?

I had hardly eaten anything for three days. My efforts for tracing my hood had borne no fruits. Because I was from the village, I would never get back home from these confusing streets of the city. Every place looked alike for a village fool like me. My identity would barely be harnessed as well. If my memory serves me right, my father was just nobody in the village. Precisely, we had no ‘surname.’ My relatives were equally submerged in the village, and their names were never heard of in the city.

In a couple of months, I had forgiven myself and lead the normal ways of life in the city streets. I acquired some few requirements for my newly established home and was at peace. It was easy. I only collected some few cartons, and this would make a good home for me. I had become a street child, and forever I would be. I adopted the new lifestyle with the help of some few colleagues.It is at this spot that has always sat for the past six years. I have always spent the long days murmuring endless prayers to my God. Stretching my thin arms to pick proffered gifts from the by-passers. Feasting on the glimmering, colorful, dancing neon lights emanating from the formal structures of the city. Feeding on the delicious world cuisine announced by the neon lights. What an impressive meal to my eyes! It is this normal spot that I sit to watch my next luck. My hands are always outstretched to receive all the offers given as well as those that mercifully come to my rescue. Watching at the strangers from all races hopefully. What do I owe them anyway? It is their will to give but not a duty. The world has been so unfair to me yet am still not out to revenge. And if I was to revenge, who do I revenge on? Who can be blamed for my misfortunes?  Mmmmmh everyone is responsible. Today I have to take action on those insane creatures at my sight who pass blindly without recognizing my presence. Yes, I have to face them. Those insensible, merciless women who pass by wiggling and swinging their behinds pretending to be late for business meetings. They will at least feel my presence today. I have to regain my joy. I have to recover my lost glory. I have to possess the joy of the world the other people share in. I can no longer stand the street life. I need to establish a great foundation for my generation. Yes, I have an obligation to.

In my mission of ‘disciplining’ the world, I bump into a fairly, tall lady who seems to be disappointed in something. She stops me, starts a conversation and what transpires next is all nightmare to me. She requests me to have a dinner with me something which I am hesitant into accept. I have a mission to attend to before me. What is of more worth? I reluctantly decide to follow her. I feel betrayed. Perhaps, I should run away from this woman.

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