A Horror / Tragic Story

by Jun Li

I opened the door, to my horror, a few skeletons lay there, chained on the wall.

Okay, time to recap. I and my friends, Jack and Peter, were playing around an
old, abandoned mansion. We were told that no one was allowed to enter.
However, curiosity overcame us and we picked the lock, granting us entrance
into the sacred lair of the unknown.

At the sight of the skeletons, the three of us were completely stunned. Our jaw
hung wide open for a few minutes before we came back to our senses. My sixth
sense told me that something was about to go wrong, so I urged the other two to
back out of the mansion.

“Don’t be such a chicken,” said Jack, with a shaky voice.

“Aren’t you scared too?” I challenged him.

“Yes, but we might never get the chance to explore here again if we leave now.”

“…All right, but we leave as soon as the first sign of danger shows.”

We ventured deeper into the mansion. The design looked like some sort of
torture room, or a prison. Even though I was afraid, I was eager to discover
more. Throughout the lair, we did not lose sight of skeletons or spider webs.
These were at every corner, at every turn. The occasional howls from a distance
made the hair on our backs stand up straight. We finally arrived at a long
hallway. Jack picked up a piece of wood and lighted it up with his lighter. The
flame seared at first, but after it simmered down, I was able to see the walls
clearly. There were ancient writings, the kind we usually see in an Egyptian
grave robber movie. As the expert in history, Jack tried his best to decipher the
carvings. Meanwhile, Peter leaned towards the wall to catch his breath. At that
very moment, a cold chill went down my spine.

“Watch out!” I shouted.

Before he could react, that portion of the wall he was leaning against flipped,
trapping him on the other side. All he could let out was a loud shriek and he
vanished behind the walls. I pounded against the wall, shouting his name. Only
then did I know what real terror felt like. However, the chance of rescuing him
was bleak. I sank to the ground, desolated and hopeless.

“Let’s get out of here, we have to inform the adults!” suggested Jack.

I got to my feet swiftly and both of us sped through the building. My heart was
racing. I knew that danger may be waiting at the next corner. I could hear blood
pounding in my ears. Wait, was that a creak I heard? “Uh-oh,” I thought to
myself. The ceiling began to crumble. My sub-consciousness took over. I
sprang forward and tackled Jack. Both of us fell to the ground. Just as I thought
that trouble was out of the way, the burning piece of wood slipped out of his
hand and landed in a pile of grease. Fire started spreading like mad. I struggled
to get up.

“Come on, there’s not much time left!” I screamed as I turned towards the exit.

“Aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

In a split second, my head turned 180 degrees. A gigantic marble pillar fell on
Jack. I mustered all the strength from every single cell in my body, trying to lift
it up, to no avail. My eyes were watery. I was completely out of ideas.

“Save yourself, leave me, please,” muttered Jack, with a weak tone.

This was certainly a tough decision for me. All the moments we had spent
together flashed through my mind. How could I leave him now? As the fire was
close to sealing my only exit, I knew that I had to be rational. I dived for my
escape route.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as the mansion erupted into flames behind me.

Narrative Essay: Finally, A Voice Message

This good English essay was submitted by Anthoneo Jay@Umar Zain. You can
submit your essay and get it published on this blog too!

Finally, A Voice Message

[PLEASE LEAVE A VOICE MESSAGE AFTER THE TONE...BEEP!]

[Hello...How do I start this? Err, it’s Pippy here. So, how was school? I’ve
tried reaching your phone but I was always answered by a robot-voice woman.
Your Uncle Tom said you might be too busy, but I knew my grandson was just
being a good boy who wouldn’t break the school regulations. How are you?]

Amongst hundreds of scholars scattered dot-like in front of the brick-red

edifices of an elite boarding school, were two friends deeply absorbed in their
conversation.

Mick, a bright student, was bargaining his friend to stay with him during the
holiday. With little reluctance, his friend said yes, so much for the 3DVC* Mick
owned and so that they could discuss the ‘Passive Cigarette Filter’ project.

[Here’s the truth about your mother, Diana. When it came time you were
born, not a glimpse of disgust had she shown despite your condition. There was
only one regret...]

True, as they say, life isn’t all beer and skittles. His fantastic blueprints of
childhood dreams, hardship borne – flying suit, smart robot maid, and fountain
of youth – were sold by his associate, Mick, out of the trust and friendship they
had been through for so long. In fact, there was a story about a man’s-best-
friend terrier biting its master.

[...her chicken boyfriend. She besought me to be strict with you, and soon she
died of AIDS. By God’s will, you were alive! Don’t play fool with lust, believe
me He won’t save you twice.]

Somehow, somewhere in the midst of glory, he was dragged back to where

he began assembling, bit by bit, the ingredients to bake a cake of success. He
felt for and found an old luggage.

Strewn inside were a Bible, an iPhone, and a forgotten photo capturing a

grinning boy clasping the eyes of an old man – picture perfect. From this place
in an old apartment, through the windowpane, as he started combining the
pieces of nostalgic puzzle, he caught a forlorn view of the boarding school, his
‘alma mater’. Then it dawned on him; his friend wasn’t just a biting terrier, he
was an evil obscured beyond the look of an angel.

[Once, you asked why there were still bad people if really God is almighty.
You see, on a rainy day, some cursed, but in truth, farmers, trees, and starving
African all gave their thanks. He is fair...simple answer for simple question.
Now stop questioning and read the Bible.]

Soon the decelerating car halted to a rest, floating aloft the electromagnetic
roadway. Hence he set forth all he could an effort to run, with an anxiety that
just grew stronger, almost staggeringly so.

He dashed his way inside the house, all the rush only to witness a humorous
hanging banner: WELCOME HOME, CITY BOY. His sight improved to a
wider angle. At once he was dumbfounded as he realized the dust in place
everywhere; the unwanted but the logic had happened.

[No one can travel to the past but it’s never not alright to make mistakes.
Upon every breath, give your best; cherish every chapter of life. If on your way
the road gets harsh, step into a carriage of faith and it will escort you to the
triumphant sky. One of these days when your feet crumble, flip the Bible and
inside it you’ll find wisdom, with little or no searching. Sometimes even the
slightest failure can shut the voice of a fighter, that’s when others’ advices can
guide you, but above all, bow your head and pray...]

Gone were the days of storm and chillness, and after came the warmth of the
sun and comfort of the breeze, which blew a pale gold leaf pass three figures,
already loud in a lunatic burlesque. While one busied himself fixing the camera,
the other was persuading his cheeky grandson not to stand on the bench. The
way it defied the world, the grandson’s synthetic leg wasn’t something that
brought him slumping. But that is how it goes with young children: the more
you prevent them, the more rebellious they will be.

The old man gave in and sat beside his grandson. Just a split second before
the cameraman (whose name was Tom) flashed his camera, the bolt-quick
hands of the grandson had closed the eyes of his grandfather – picture perfect.

[I know it’s busy life there but...I really miss my boy. I can still kick a ball
you know...I need a tissue, Tom...Why in the world am I crying like a sissy?
Maybe my boy has turned handsome and gentleman now, but if you need a
Grandpa, Pippy’s not going anywhere –]

[YOU HAVE ZERO TALK-TIME LEFT ON...]

[...I hate that robot woman, for real...]

Narrative Essay: Forgiven

This good English essay writing was submitted by roseberry. You can submit
your essay and get it published on this blog too!

I stood motionless and looked at the solid, dark brown wooden door. The house
was painted white, and black on the wooden beams and window panes. It
looked huge and expensive from the outside. I had to make my mind up whether
to knock or press the bell. I turned to face the garden. I thought about going
back to my car and drove home. Home. That was where I wanted to be; or was
it where I would be after I knocked the door? I sighed and walked to the side
where there was a wooden bench by the beautiful garden. I could see that the
woman in the family loved the garden. The smell of white lilies reminded me of
the florist down the road on Sixteenth Street. I sat on the sturdy looking wooden
bench, trying to figure out what I would say if someone was to open the door. I
wished I did not find out where she was so that I would not have three sleepless
nights thinking of why she left me, whether she was looking for me or whether I
should be angry.

I was abandoned at Bliss Home when I was barely four. They said they found
me playing joyfully in the playground, innocently thinking that I was sent to
school. After three years, I found out that my mother left me at the orphanage
because she had to go and find my father who left us when I was two. I was
devastated, knowing that my mother left me to strangers. Funny, I thought, how
manipulative and contradictory adults could be when it comes to giving advice.
Those at Bliss Home took good care of me and made me realise that I was still
lucky to be able to enjoy life. Sister Lisa was one of those who managed to
make me see that I should make the most of myself than being miserable,
grieving my unfortunate life; thinking nobody loved me. I stayed there till I was
12, when I was then transferred to Rouston Public School. Well, Sister Lisa
thought it was a good school. Spurred by Sister Lisa’s determination to give me
‘life’, I did my best in Rouston and would go back to Bliss Home during
semester breaks or Christmas to be part of the family. Well, I was not sure
whether I knew the meaning of that word, but Sister Lisa convinced me that I
was part of them when my presence was usually welcomed by freshly baked
apple pie and mince meat. Then we would all sit in our warm huge and rather
aromatic dining hall. I could still smell Martha’s mouth-watering Yorkshire
pudding and roast beef in the kitchen whenever I visited Bliss Home.

It was 8 years ago when I started digging files and tailing endless documents to
find out who my biological parents were. Blessed, I found where my mother
lived but was reluctant to go and see her. I knew it would shake her down to her
knees and she would beg forgiveness for leaving me; that she was young and
naive; that she would not have managed looking after me on her own. Even
worst, my presence would stop her heart; that she would collapse
unconsciously, leaving me feeling guilty instead. Sister Lisa was the one who
insisted. At the end of the year, I eventually gave in but forbade her from calling
Mom to inform that I was coming; in case I changed my mind. She gladly
agreed and even packed me cheese and tomato sandwiches for the journey. I
was skeptical when she said that Mom would be waiting for me. If mom knew
where I was, why didn’t she come and find me?

My thoughts were interrupted by a butterfly flying right in front of my nose. I

looked back at the house to see if anyone noticed my presence. Silence. I
glanced at my watch but I forgot what time I arrived, so I did not know how
long I was there. I stood up and walked back to the sandy path leading to the
house. I stopped at the wooden door again wishing it was an automatic door so I
did not have to decide. Spotting a shadow by the window on my left, my heart
pumped. Somebody was at the window and was walking towards the door. I
found it very hard to swallow a big lump in my throat as my heart thumped
against my chest. I thought that I was the one who would be unconscious.

“Hi, can I help you?” asked the girl who was standing in front of me with a
huge grin. I swallowed hard while admiring her curly blonde. Seeing that, I
knew she must be Mom’s daughter. She looked 15, lean and has beautiful
brown eyes. Pretty.

“Yess.. Ermm yeah.. I was looking for Mrs Collins. Hmm well, is this Mrs
Collins’s house by any chance?”

“Ohh yeahh.. Hmm..Mom’s upstairs. And I think she’s expecting you. Aunt
Lisa told mom this morning.” She smiled pleasantly holding the door. Despite
the dazzling big smile, I could see the quizzical frowns on her forehead. I
wondered whether it was because I frowned first. Obviously Sister Lisa must
have had said something to Mom.

I waited. Looking for words, 1 folded my arms unintentionally and looked away
at the lilies, biting my lower lips. I thought of saying that it was a big mistake
and should just walk back to my car. After all, it had been 25 years since she
left me. It would not change anything, would it?

“Owh well, you must be freezing. Please come in, she’ll be down in a minute”.

She opened the door and took my left hand, looked at me in the eyes as if to ask
for permission and pulled me inside. As I dragged my feet down the hallway, I
could see a family picture on the wall. Something stabbed me, right on my
chest. Deep. I could feel the pain that I felt years ago when I found out I was left
on my own, and was on the verge of tears. Again, I thought of walking back to
the door but I brushed the thought away when I heard the footsteps. It happened
so quickly, I was not sure whether I was actually there. My stomach tightened
when I saw the hopeful look in her eyes.
“William, ohh it’s you. I’ve been waiting for you for what..like..30 years? I
knew you would find me. See, it’s in your nature. Being curious, that is.”

Well, as if it was my mistake that she had to wait so long. I thought I was
supposed to wait for her to find me, or at least she should have gone to Bliss
Home to find out. Silence. I could not say anything looking at her fragile face. I
noticed that her daughter was standing by the small coffee table, looking out of
the window expressionlessly, pretending we were not there.

I looked at Mom pityingly and sighed. I was unsure of what to say. As if to wait
for me to invite her in her own living room, she stood by the door and smiled
awkwardly. Despite the quivered smile, I could still vaguely recognise those
beautiful brown eyes when she smiled. Then, she looked down at her hands,
which she clenched and unclenched nervously. I presumed that she was as
uneasy as I was. After a moment, I cleared my throat and forced a weak smile.
Seeing that, she ran towards me and hugged me. Sobbing. Tears welled in my
eyes. I closed my eyes, afraid that anyone would see me, but I knew she was
forgiven.

Narrative Essay: Home

This good English essay writing entitled "Home" was submitted by Dyandra.
You can submit your essay and get it published on this blog too!

In 1998, a civil war broke out around the district of Mai Chau in Vietnam and
Luang Prabang in Laos. Both sides’ respective leaders had a conflict regarding
the goal of uniting these two countries under a communist rule ruled by the
Army of Republic of Vietnam (ARVN). Instead of discussing the current issue
together, both sides decided to become juvenile and resort to violence instead.

Almost all districts of Hanoi were severely disrupted. Historical buildings and
residential compounds collapsed and destroyed by the tanks and military
armies. The town suffered a rash of arson attacks. Dead corpses lying on the
ground, children crying and screaming everywhere, terrifying sounds of gun
shots and bombs. It was an utter mess.

Before the war was getting much more chaotic than it already is, my family and
I decided to flee from Vietnam. We packed all the necessary things and sneaked
out of Hanoi using an overnight train that lead us to the city of Bac Ninh. Upon
our arrival, we rushed to the International Airport of Bac Ninh. Luckily, with
the help of our cousin, Vrinh who worked as an officer there, we were able to
bypass the strict airport checkups and landed ourselves in Minnesota, USA.
Things were complicated when we first started our “new” lives in the United
States of America. My parents and older siblings were trying their hardest to
make ends meet in order to support the family. Being a naive 10 years old I was
back then, I could only sit there and watch. After awhile, my family was finally
financially stable; we were able to buy a comfortable ranch-styled house big
enough for us to live in and I was enrolled to an Asian American private school.
15 years later, I find myself working as a music teacher in a public school.

Every time I played the piano, I always reminisce the memories during my time
in Vietnam. So, me and my brother decided to pay a visit to our home in
Vietnam. Both of us flew to Mai Chau to witness the current condition of the
area.

As I stepped forward to the isolated and deserted place, cold air around me
slowly dissipated as the sudden warmth enveloped around me to the core of my
spine.

This is the place where I grew my wings. This is the place whom I shared
memories with my deceased grandmother. This is the place where I used to run
around with my dear friends, Ming and Cho. This is the place in which I
developed my interest for music after listening my former neighbor played the
violin and piano. My childhood memories are still vividly attached to this place.

As I squad down feeling the dusty ground with my bare hand, tears pierced
through my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I braved a smile and whispered
……

“Home.”

Narrative Essay: Race

This good English essay was submitted by yumphilip. Another good English
essay entitled Friend written by yumphilip was published here last month. You
can submit your essay and get it published on this blog too!

“Not so fast Lewis!” My immature ten-year-old voice yelled out at the fast
disappearing figure before me. I knew the additional two wheels of my
glittering silver-tinted bicycle had given me a disadvantage rather the advantage
I thought I would have. I pedaled with all the force my undeveloped leg muscles
could generate, but it only proved to be futile. I could not win this race.

I had never beaten my brother, Lewis, in any bicycle race after that. He always
seemed to be one step ahead of me, no matter how hard I tried. Lewis was a
caring and understanding brother, but equally so was he competitive and
determined. He was my role model and the person I respected most, but he was
also my main rival. Our parents too supported our healthy competition. Races
with Lewis were never short of passion and excitement, and soon I found
myself getting more into cycling, determined to beat Lewis at our favourite
sport.

The years had gradually passed, and the both of us had found a new love,
motorcycle racing. We had worked hard to make our mark in the sport, and both
of us had succeeded thus far, winning respective races in different parts of the
world. Yet, he had won many more titles than me. I could never surpass him, it
seemed. Our rivalry was a race.

Now, it was time for us to compete once more. Both of us had entered the
widely-acclaimed “MotoGP” competition, and a showdown would be
inevitable. We had not raced together for many years, leaving this race down to
the tremendous amounts of hard work we had put in. The press had written
countless articles about our coming race, and it was finally time for the big
clash.

I turned my head towards him, and I could see his eyes through the visors of our
helmets. Eyes filled with a colourful mixture of nostalgia, happiness and
determination. Then, the horn blared. We raced, neck to neck from the start. It
stayed that way for the next seventeen laps, before the final lap. He sped in front
of me, stretching his engine to the limit. It would be extremely difficult to
attempt to rival his pace, and I tried my very best to reduce the gap as much as I
could. As I saw him riding in front of me, I was gripped by a sense of déjà vu.

“Not so fast Lewis!” I mouthed, for the sake of reliving our very first race. Only
this time, I would not let history repeat itself. I flicked my wrist back,
accelerating my vehicle. I concentrated on the figure in front of me. I could feel
the effect of pushing my engine to its limits. My gloved hands were feeling the
heat from the overheating engine.

We approached the last hundred metres. I was only half a motorcycle’s length
behind him. With a final flick, we crossed the finish line.

We looked up at the giant screen. A camera replay was being shown. It was too
close to call a winner.

“And the winner is Will!” the commentator boomed through the sound system.

I felt immense relief and a massive sense of achievement. I had finally done it. I
had won the cup. I had won a race against my brother. I had won the race to
surpass my brother.

That is the reward for my patience and hardwork - SPM English Essay
Writing

Write story ending with: "...That is the reward for my patience and
hardwork."

No guts no glory. No pain no gain. Those are my life mottos. I feel that
nothing can be achieved by simply sitting and doing absolutely nothing to make
dreams come true. Life can be so hard especially when you are not born with
silver spoon in yuor mouth. It is also the time when true friends are hard to
comeby just because you do not much money to treat them at Kentucky Fried
Chicken or Burger King. That is something that I have experienced ever since
my family moves to this metropilitan city and I study in the new school.

In my new school I study hard to complete with all my fellow classmates

who come from all walks of life but most are from rich background. They have
all that I have ever wanted in my life but fail to get. They can buy branded shoes
and clothes, unlike my worn out Bata. They afford the latest handphones brands
with the latest technology but me? There is nothing I could do to be on par with
them. So, I just let them show off their fancy gadgets without feeling remorse
with the fact that I am only an ordinary student coming from a family clerk. I
just feel sad that they act as if I do not have feelings. I do not feel the least
discourage since I know that I can also be like them one day if I work hard
enough to score in my SPM exam.

Day after day, night after night, I do not to do anything else but concentrate
on my studies. Spm examination is just around the corner and I have no other
wish apart from wanting to pass Spm with Flying colours. My parents are my
inspirations. They always remind me to work hard and hange our fate, make
them proud as well as prove to everybody that a son of a plain clerk can also
succeed in life and deserve some respect. At times, I feel so stressed out that I
almost give up and cry. Nevertheless, thinking of my parent's hope and wishes, I
would never surrender and that is my final decision. I engage myseld in group
discussion, have consultations with my Physics and Chemistry teachers, the two
subjects that I am weak at as well as burn as much midnight oil as possible to
atain my ultimate goal-10A+ in the exam. Sometimes, I feel overworked myself
but I know I have to muster every single once of my strength to pull through
this ordeal and pray that it will end soon.

The most awaited moment has arrived. With prayers and good luck wishes
from my father and mother, I step into my examination hall with full awareness
that I have to do really well in the exam to realize all my parent's dreams and
mine. The torturous moments last for three weeks and as far as I am concerned
time really flies but I trust myself that I have given my very best for each paper.

March 2015 comes I heard on the television that the SPM 2014 result will
be out today. With anticipation and nervousness I walk to school with my good
friend Samah. I cannot imagine getting less than 8A+ because according to my
conselor, only getting 8A+ will I be able to secure any scholarship, something
which is very important to me due to my parent's incapability to pay for my
tertiary education. The moment Ms. Asiah, my form teacher hands me the result
slip, my heart skips a bea. i am cold from feet to toe from the suspense. Then
the moment arrives! It is the most unforgettable time of my life. I mange to get
10A+ and my prayer has been answered. Thank God for giving me apportunity
to succeed and make my parents proud. That is the reward for my patience and
hardwork.

A Holiday I Would Never Forget - SPM English Essay Writing

A holiday I would never forget

Holidays, a time everyone gets hyped up over, parents planning activities for the
family to spend quality time with and school children ( as well as teachers)
jumping for joy. Hello, waking up late, celebrating, goin for tuition and best of
all, vacations! In myy case, a holiday I would never forget is a fruitful one I
expereinced five years ago, where my family I spent six days in the land of K-
Pop and ' kimchi '- Korea.

Finally, after ages of waiting, our family arrived in beautiful Korea.

Stepping out of the plane, we could feel the chilly weather to our bones. Never
experiencing that kind of weather, my siblings and I were totally excited.
Passing through immigration and baggage claim, we were talking animatedly
about our new surroundings. Since we went with tour group, we knew we were
in good hands.

Incident number one. We were supposed to take a bus to check in at the

hotel, as instructed. I guessed I was overeager and without thinking. I ran to a
random bus and knocked on the door. The young bus driver opened the door
and looked at me with a puzzled expression. He started asking me something in
Korean, which of course I did not understand. I tried to reply in English, but
before I could make the attempt, my father quickly apologized to the driver and
walked me back to the tour group who was watching from afar, shaking with
laughter. It turned out that the bus I was running to was not the bus we were
supposed to take. I dismissed my burning cheeks. I was glad I could be the butt
of everyone's jokes on my first day in a foreign country.

It was a bit past lunch time when we were done checking in our hotel. Not
doubt, everybody's stomachs were grumbling. Thank God after checking in, we
were going to have our lunch and do a bit of sightseeing. While waiting for the
others outside the hotel, we walked around nearby. There was a row of vending
machines that sold various snacks and beverages, including Haagen Dazs ice-
cream , and instant noodles. My mother had a craving for Nescafe, so she spent
her first Korrean money on that.

At the restaurant, a delicious meal was already spread out for us. That was
the first time we all tried kimchi, a spicy and sour vegetable side dish.I did not
think it was horrible, buut I preferred the fish kimchi much better. We all ate
using chopsticks, so that was kind or awkward for me and my siblings, as we
were not skilled at using them yet. Being Malaysians, we were used to rice, so it
was a good thing that the Korean meal included rice and a few other side dish,
eaten from a Bento box. It was weird though, the rice was stickier compared to
the rice we eat at home, mainly to make it easier to eat using chopsticks. There
was also hot and scumptious miso soup together with the meal. Since my sister
and my brother did not like it much, I finshed up theirs. I gulped the warm soup
down my throat- a nice connntrast from the shivering weather outside.

One of the highlights of our activities that we did in Korea was skiling.
Everybody from the tour group was looking forward to that, even the 52-year
old couple traveling with us. Since it was'nt fully snownig yet, the hill was
coverred with artificial snow. After grobbing our ski gear, we listen to a briefing
by the instructor. He was very help ful, especially with us kids annd the elderly
couple.

Feeling jumpy and hyperactive, me and my sister made our way to the
cable car and successfully skied down a slope. I thought, " We're natural at
this," and my sister could not agree more. When we came to see how our
parents and brother were doing, my brother started to throw a snowball towards
me and my sister. It hit me, and we started having a small snowball fight of our
own, just like in the movies! I guessed we got a bit out of hand and my sister
accidentally hit a woman's back. when she turned around, she had this angry
look on her face and started to walk towards us.I hurried my siblings to continue
skiing with our parents,and we ran away before she cold catch us. Breathless,
we giggled innaivety as we recapped the moment.

In a way, skiing is like swimming. Why do I say so? Well, when

swimming ,you do not feel tired , but you would see the effect when you get
ravenous and eat more after a session or when you aintend to tke a nap, but it is
extended to long hours. The same goes to skiing. When we arrived at the hotel
after skiing, we were drained out and starving. Instant noodles saved the day!
We all ate curry-flavoured Maggi together, savouring the memontary pleasure.
We also dozed off quite early that night , right after going for a walk to enjoy
the amazing night view of th mountains, and breathing the cool, fresh winter air.

Shopping in Korea was also different compared to Malaysia. Its malls were
packed with small shops or stalla on every floor. Big boutiques were not seen as
much as the quaint kiosks. Nevertheless, I found shopping at their markets more
enjoyable, especially because you could haggle the price. Their
specialities were crystals, fabrics and outerwear. Apart form that, I also liked
their wet markets , mainly because they were very clean and they did not have
that fishy smell. I remembered a shocking incident when walking through the
stalls of the wet market. A large fish jumped out its aquarium and onto the
floor. I stared at it and suddenly, I saw a huge cutting knife slicing through the
fish's neck! It was the owner of the stall's doing. Then, the owner left the fish
flapping around lifelessly without a head.

There was also a treasure trove among the stalls of the wet market- a tiny
shoop which served grilled seafood. My family stepped into the shop and
ordered some grilled fish and cockles.

After saying our prayers, we devoured our mouth-watering find of the day.
Dripped in a type of souce, the seafood was the best I had ever eaten, as you
could taste the freshness. Or maybe I was just hungry after a full day of
activities.

If it was up to me, there were so many things to write on my memorabe

trip to Korean. Not onli we got to spend quality time together as a family, but
we also learnt countless new things and even discovered hidden talents. My
father always said we should travel with an open mind and an open heart. This
is when you get to see your capability to adapt to changes. Just enjoy the simple
things in life and be thankful of what you have. So, do just that. Who knows
you might discover a part of yourself you never know existed?

Couple Foils Robbery Attempt - Sample Essay: Directed Writing

DIRECTED: ARTICLE / REPORT: Newspaper Article / Report

There has been an attempted robbery in your area. As a newspaper reporter, you
have been assigned to write a report of the incident for publication in a local
newspaper. Using the notes below, write out your report.

 couple – taking a walk

  two men approached them
 ordered couple to give jewellery
 a struggle – husband injured
 one neighbour – taking a dog for a walk
 heard shouts – went to investigate
 robbers saw dog – fled
 couple made police report

Couple Foils Robbery Attempt

PULAU PINANG, Thu – An elderly businessman and his wife foiled a robbery
attempt by two men armed with a screwdriver and a knife. The victims were
reported safe from any bad injury.

Tan Ah Wok, 60 and his wife were taking a morning walk near their
home in Helen Heights yesterday when two men on a motorcycle stopped them
under the pretext of asking for directions. As Mr. Tan was giving directions, one
of the robbers pointed a knife at him and ordered them to keep quiet. He then
relieved Mrs. Tan of her jewellery and instructed Mr. Tan to hand over his ring
and watch. When he refused, a struggle ensued. Meanwhile, his accomplice
grabbed a helmet and hit Mr. Tan on the head with it. On seeing this, his wife
started screaming.

One of their neighbours, R. Subramaniam, who was taking his dog for a
walk, heard the screams and when to investigate. On seeing Subramaniam and
his dog, the robbers fled. “I was taking my dog for a walk when I heard
someone shouting for help. Knowing that something was wrong, I ran there as
fast as I could. Before I reached the scene, the robbers fled on a motorbike.
They were probably afraid of my Rottweiler.”

Mr. Tan, who suffered a small cut on his head, was given outpatient
treatment at a private clinic. He said that it was a horrified experience as he
never expected the two men would attack his wife and him. He thought that
they were lost and needed help. He also mentioned that the guard who in charge
nowadays easily allowed the strangers to enter their residents. State CID Chief
Supt Harun Din advised him and the people to be more careful in giving help to
strangers. The guard also must be stricter in letting people from entering any
residents without proper permission.

He added that the suspects, aged between 25 and 30, were believed to be
illegal immigrants. He said there had been similar incident last week when two
men approached a factory worker who was on her way home after work. The
duo then relieved her gold chain and cash. He advised the residents to be alert
and reports to police any suspicious-looking characters lurking in their area.

380 words

Write a story starting with: “The widow had to work hard to bring up her
little son alone...” - Sample Essays: Continuous Writing

CONTINUOUS WRITING: SAMPLE ESSAY ARTICLE: NARRATIVE

WRITING – With a starting phrase

Write a story starting with: “The widow had to work hard to bring up her
little son alone...”
The widow had to work hard to bring up her little son alone. This was after her
husband’s early death. She and her son lived in a wooden house. It was a small
house with only one bedroom and a kitchen.

Mariam wanted Sam to study hard to get good result. So she would not
let Sam help her do any household chores or wash his own clothes. The years
flew by. Sam sat for his SPM examination and pass with flying colours.

His mother was very happy. She went round telling her friends, “My
Sam will be leaving for the city to study in a college. He will become a
Manager one day. I’ll move to live with him in the city. Then, my struggle is
worth it.”

So Mariam continued to work hard to send money to Sam who was

studying a business degree. For Mariam, it was a tough life. Meanwhile, Sam
kept on phoning home to ask for more money. Mariam even had to borrow from
her neighbours and friends to send her son the money.

Three years Sam stopped calling home. He did not even let his mother
where he was. When she phoned the faculty, they told her that he had graduated
and left for job. However, they could not her more. Mariam was baffled. Where
was Sam? She was so sure he would come back and fetch her for city. So, she
started to pack some of her bags and boxes.

Three months later, there was still no news or call from Sam. One day,
Mariam’s niece, Kate, came to talk to her about Sam. She told her aunt,
“Auntie, a friend of mine met Sam in a bank. He’s the branch manager. This is
his address.”
 Early in the morning, Mariam took the first bus to the city. At the bus
station, she took a taxi and showed the taxi driver the bank address. On the way
there, she told the driver about Sam and what a filial son he was.

The driver stopped his taxi in front of a tall building. She got out of the
taxi and smiled at him happily. This was the moment she was going to meet
Sam. She imagined him showing surprise and delight at meeting his mother.
Inside the building, a security guard asked her who she was looking for. She
told the guard Sam’s name.

The bank staff saw an old lady holding a worn-out handbag. They were
wondering, “Who is this woman? Why is she asking for our manager?”

Meanwhile, Sam pretended he did not know his mother. Feeling

disgusted and ashamed, he asked the security guard to ask her to leave. Mariam
was shocked to hear that! She looked Sam in a disappointed feeling ever, and
ran out of the bank.

Back in her house, Mariam cried the whole night. She cried and cried till
she had no more tears. The next morning, she was sitting by the window with
Sam’s photo on her lap. She saw him walking towards their house. Soon she
was shouting and crying, “My Sam is back! My Sam is back!”

Sam ran towards her and hugged Mariam as he never let go. He was so
sorry and regretted the way he behaved. His colleagues were the one who made
him realized his big mistakes neglected his mother.

The neighbours heard her. They too shouted and cheered, feeling happy
for her.

574 words.

My Most Embarrassing Situation - Sample Essays: Continuous Writing

CONTINUOUS WRITING: SAMPLE ESSAY ARTICLE: NARRATIVE

WRITING – Title Given

My Most Embarrassing Situation

Everyone has been embarrassed at one time or another. It is that moment
in time when you wish the earth would open up and swallow you. The anxiety
and discomfort felt during that time which may only last a few seconds feels
like time has stood still.
 I remember so well when I had my most embarrassing moment. I was in
Form 4 and it was during the school recess. The minute the bell rang for recess,
I rushed to the toilet because I had been controlling my urges since class started.
I didn’t want to miss class because the lesson taught that morning was to
include tips for the forthcoming examination.

Without realising, I had rushed to the girls’ toilet. The prolonged control
and an upset stomach made worse by two glasses of cold milk in the morning
made me grunt and groan in what I thought in what I thought was the privacy of
the cubicle. I thought I heard giggling outside and wondered why the giggles
sounded unusually near. A few minutes later I came out the cubicle and
discovered my horror that I had entered the girls’ toilet. To make matters worse,
the few girls standing outside didn’t even turn away when I came out. Instead
they looked down at me, then only they turned quickly away. Horror of horrors,
I had forgotten to zip up! No beetroot could have matched the colour of my face
at this point in time!

They news of my predicament spread like wild fire throughout school. I

was truly the talk of the town. I felt like I could either walk around feeling
perpetually self-conscious and embarrassed or I could turn the situation round,
perhaps even to my advantage. I remembered my mother’s words that ‘if you
can’t beat them, join them’. So I decided to make fun of myself, to laugh at
myself too. It works. Everyone got bored after a while and nobody teased me
after that.

It was indeed an eye-opening experience for me. I have learnt that when
people laugh at you, you should laugh along. You must not take yourself
seriously. Learn to look at yourself through other people’s eyes and you will
realise that most of the time when they laugh at you, they just want to have
some fun. They mean no harm. If you can make people laugh, it’s like bringing
sunshine into their lives and as someone said, ‘those who bring sunshine to the
lives of others cannot keep it from themselves.’

421 words

A Road Accident - Sample Essays: Continuous Writing

CONTINUOUS WRITING: SAMPLE ESSAY ARTICLE: Descriptive -

Description of a Scene

A Road Accident
Road accidents are reported in newspaper and on television every day.
There are more frequently caused by reckless drivers rather than faulty vehicles.
Last Saturday, while I was travelling from Ipoh, I witnessed a serious accident.
The scene of the accidents was vivid in my mind.

A motorcyclist was following behind was taxi very closely. He was so

impatient that he was trying to overtake my taxi even near a sharp bend. At that
critical moment, there was an oncoming car. The taxi driver swerved to the
roadside and I got a terrible jolt. It was too late for the motorcyclist to avoid the
car. His motorcycle ran against the bumper of the car and smashed its
windscreen. The motorcyclist somersaulted over the car and was found lying in
a pool of blood. It was a scene to chill the flesh! The car driver, who was cut by
the flying glass, was in a state of shock. All that happened in split second and
fear overwhelmed us.

The taxi driver stopped his taxi and I quickly ran to the nearest to the
nearest telephone booth to inform the police and the hospital. From a distance I
could see some people trying to help the injured motorcyclist and the car driver.
They carried them into one of the onlooker’s car and sent them to the hospital
for treatment. Meanwhile the taxi driver tried to control and directs the traffic.
Soon the police arrived and they promptly took some measurements and
evidence. After that they moved the damaged car and the motorcycle to the
roadside to ease the traffic congestion. They also took down the evidence
provided by witnesses and onlookers. Some sweepers were clearing the debris
and the blood stains on the road.

When the taxi finally continued the journey, I silently thanked God for
my narrow escape. I learned a good lesson that impatience and recklessness
would bring harm and danger. I was happy to see that Malaysians are public-
spirited and they render help to others readily. Since then I remember and
follow the saying ‘more haste less speed’ and ‘prevention is better than cure’. I
believe good road manners and roads safety campaigns can help to reduce the
number of road accidents which cause injuries, loss and lives and properties.

381 words

Autumn on Sugarbush Street

This good English essay on sharing was written by Toasted Monkey. Do you know that you
can submit your own essay and get it published on this blog too? Read this post to learn how
to get your essay featured on Good English Essays, a blog with more than 200 readers daily.

When I think back to the best memories of my youth, it’s the street where I lived that I think
of first. Tucked far enough out of the way to have a slower pace than the rest of the world,
my neighborhood was the perfect place to grow up. I spent my summers swimming or fishing
and my winters in snowball fights and ice skates. While all the seasons have their own
beauty, it‘s the fall that I love the most. Surrounded by color and wildlife, autumn on
Sugarbush Street was like living in God’s painting.

Dominated by maples, willows, elms, and birch trees, my street was cut off from the busy
outside world. I often imagined as a child that a great woodsman had carved a path through
the forest of trees on my street; that my father and our neighbors had followed to bury their
own roots where the trees once lay. In the autumn, after the swimming pools were covered
and the sprinklers packed away, the trees exploded with color almost overnight, as if they
knew that Mother Nature would put them to sleep for the winter in a few weeks and they
wanted to pulse with life one last time. I would look up and suddenly be surrounded by
chocolate browns, fiery reds, and bright yellows. In the late afternoon, the whole street
glowed golden amber and the sky burned with brilliant reds and purples as the sun set. When
the houselights came on and the chimneys signaled that fireplaces were lit, my world shrank
to pools of warm light and front porches; no place has ever felt as good or as safe to me.
Everything would smell of cool earth and wood smoke. I could taste the sweetness of the
fallen leaves in the air. The only thing you could hear, unless you turned your back to it, was
the roar of the wind as it tried to shake loose the leaves too stubborn to let go of the branches.
I always lingered just outside my front door, taking one last look around: the sky’s fire
cooling to silver in the light of the moon, the trees fading to silhouettes, and the crickets
restless and noisy at the start of their nightly watch. When I walked inside, my family’s
talking above the television’s soft murmur replaced the sounds of the wind and crickets.
Those smells from outside quickly faded, replaced with sweeter ones of pumpkin pie and
cinnamon; two smells that always permeated my house in the fall.

On autumn mornings, if I got out of bed early enough, my backyard would be alive with
activity. My father always put beef suet and extra seed in the birdfeeders when the weather
turned cold, and I loved to watch the animals come for a taste. Shivering in my pajamas as
my skin pebbled from the cold, I would carefully approach the big picture window that faced
out back and press my face to the glass. Red and black squirrels, furry tails standing at
attention as they rustled through the piles of leaves foraging for food, chattered angrily at one
another if they dared to venture too close. Nervous rabbits streaked back and forth through
the dew that glistened like crystals in the morning light. As if sensing my stare, they would
suddenly stop, frozen in place like perfect lawn statues. The slightest quiver on the tips of
their ears and the twitch of their tiny noses were the only signs that they were real. Pheasants,
standing proud like lords of the yard watched it all with me. The smell of bacon frying would
pull me away, and the imprint of my face would fade from the cold glass while I decided to
concern myself with the inside world for a while.

On one of those mornings, I remember running to the old apple tree out back for some of its
sweet red fruit. The carpet of leaves crackled underfoot as I ran, the sound startling the
blackbirds into the air. I stood panting underneath my tree, face flushed, when a buck stepped
out of the woods at the end of my property. We both stopped, noticing each other at the same
time. Brown like the leaves scattered at my feet with antlers that looked like a crown of
branches, the buck’s head tapered to a gray muzzle and ended in a band of pure white like
snow. Ears and tail stiff with alert, his liquid brown eyes gazed into my smaller hazel ones
and I held my breath trying not to move. Powerful muscles moved beneath its fur when it
took a cautious step backward into the safety of the trees, and I realized our destination was
the same. The crooked tree that smelled so strong of the soft apples that had fallen to the
ground after growing too big for the tree to maintain its hold on them. He was there for those
apples; I was there to climb for mine. I slowly bent down and picked up an apple to offer to
him. My fingers put little indents in its soft skin. My movement startled him and the buck
turned and leapt back into the shelter of the dark woods in one fluid motion. Hopeful I could
lure him back, I tossed a few apples to where he had stood and climbed my tree, slowly
making my way up the knobby bark to the crossed branches at the top that had adapted to my
shape from years of sitting on them. I waited in that tree all day for him to return, gaze locked
on those apples, pretending not to notice the November cold settling onto me like a blanket. It
finally grew too dark to see and my mother called for me to come inside. I never saw that
buck again.

Autumn is still my favorite season. When the days get shorter and the leaves start to pile up
under the trees, I start to feel like a kid again. My old street has changed over the years. There
aren’t as many trees as there used to be; many have been cut down to make room for new
neighbors. The trees that remain, though, are just as striking and vibrant in their fall colors as
I remember. There’s a bank at one end of the street now, the soft green grass of the field
where kids played tag and baseball is now the hard gray of a parking lot. The apple tree
behind my parent’s house has been cut down, but I swear I can still smell the apples that
littered the ground beneath it when I walk over the place it once stood. The woods, so dark
and dense in my memories, have been thinned and you can see daylight between the trees
now. The sounds of wind whispering through those woods have been replaced by lawn
mowers and radios. I walk back to that spot sometimes, where I saw that buck so long ago,
when I stop by to visit (Mom’s pie, still as rich and sweet as it ever was, is one thing that
hasn’t changed). When I do, I always get the taste for apples and the urge to climb a tree. I
wonder where he went, that buck, when his home was taken over by progress. I like to think
that he found another, quieter Sugarbush Street to spend his remaining years; another crooked
tree to stand under and eat apples, with an ear cocked to hear the sounds of children playing
in the leaves far away. That was twenty autumns ago. I’m looking forward to many more, but
I know my best autumns were on Sugarbush Street. I’m glad I was there.

Of Bombs and Ice-Cream

This well-written, interesting short story was submitted by Jonathan 'zoul-K' Kong. You can
submit your essay and get it published on this blog too!

Her slender figure slumped restlessly against the window. She gazed out at the multitude of
brightly coloured stars that lay before her.

Commander Assyria’s eyes were fixed on the big rock of green and blue that floated
helplessly in space from her small, circular window panel located in her private quarters up in
space aboard the Ulysses VI. She could not help but think how much she missed home so
much ever since she had left for duty onboard the Ulysses fourteen months ago.

“Many things must’ve changed since I left. What with the growing turmoil that was going on
somewhere in the Middle East the last I heard of. I do hope things have settled down back
there.”

At that moment, Commander Assyria’s second in command on the Ulysses, Fleet

Commander Lucas Bishop entered her quarters as the doors separating the quarters with the
main hallway slid open with a silenced hush.
“Gazing out at Mother Earth again, I reckon? Doesn’t she just grow on you out here in
space?”

“Here you go again with your senseless ramblings, eh?” joked Assyria.

“Oh well, that’s Luke! Anyway, I came here to tell you about a video conference with the
United Nations later on at 1400 hours.”

Commander Assyria nodded appropriately and sent Lucas off to dwell on his never-ending
‘philosophies’ he calls ‘The Lucas Way’. Most probably a pun he picked up from studying
The Milky Way for aeons.

“Another round of pointless debates with the UN again. It’s not as if there’s a meteorite
whizzing past us every other day.”

Checking her data pad and seeing as how she still had a few more minutes to spare, she made
a beeline to the station’s canteen for a nice, hot cup of coffee to keep her on track throughout
the meeting.

Moments later, she settled herself down comfortably in her commander’s chair inside the
conference room. The video screen immediately flickered to life and the familiar logo of the
United Nations visualised onscreen. After a momentary pause, Dr. Sergio Camacho-Lara, the
Director of Space Affairs appeared.

“It’s good to see you once again, Assyria. I trust things are going well up there?” said the
doctor with his thick Mexican accent.

“As right as rain, director! Although we hardly EVER see it up here,” laughed Assyria.

“Good, good. Assyria, there’s something important I felt that I needed to tell you personally.
It’s regarding your… family.”

“What… what is it, director? What has happened to my family?!” demanded Assyria with a
clearly anxious tone compared to a few seconds ago. Her facial expression had changed
almost quite instantly, almost as pale as a ghost.

“Well, it’s not going to be easy to say. There was… there was a recent terrorist attack against
your home country. There were bomb blasts all around the main city. We fear that the
casualty count has reached an all time high. Seeing as how your family stays nearby the city,
we cannot help but wonder if they… had managed to survive.”

She sat in her seat motionless, silently watching the steam rising from her mug of coffee.
Now speaking with a tone of distraught, Assyria said, “I’m sorry, director, but I will need
some time to myself to think about this. Thank you for informing me.” With that, she
immediately cut off the feed not giving the director time to even respond to her statement.
She hastily made her way back to her private quarters to regain her composure.

She lay huddled in bed emotionally lost in her thoughts. She did not know what to make of
the recent events that had just taken place. Outside her quarters, a few crew members had
gathered wondering why their commander had been in there for such a long time. Lucas came
whistling by and noticed the commotion.

“Hey! What’s going on? The commander got herself stuck trying on her spacesuit again?
Boy, that was a scene I’d never forget.” laughed Lucas.

“It’s not that, Sir. The commander has been in there for quite a long time. She refused to see
anyone at all. It’s quite unusual for her to be like this, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. I’ll go in and have a talk with her. The rest of you, carry on with your duties.”
Following that, he rapped on the door and allowed himself in. Seeing her curled up into a ball
on the bed, he calmly walked and sat down next to her.

“Ria, what’s going on? This is very unlike you.”

“Luke, my family… my… family… bombing… gone… gone! I hate… I hate this world. I
hate the cruelty. The wars. The discrimination. I hate it all!”

Visibly shaken, Lucas tried his best to comfort her by putting his arm around her and holding
her close. “Don’t worry, Ria. There’s still hope. They may still be alive. You need to be
strong.”

“If I could change the world… THIS world… I’d just wish for all this pain and suffering to
disappear forever! Wars… they don’t help further any cause. All they do is cause destruction
and agony all over the world. The Earth… it looks beautiful from up here, but true evil lies
snugly beneath it. How I wish I had the power to stop all these catastrophic events from
happening. It hurts… It hurts my heart deeply… Luke…”

“If I could change the world,” paused Lucas. “I would’ve wanted it to be a peaceful world. A
world where everyone could live together despite racial and religious differences. These are
the things that ultimately give rise to wars and terrorism. It’s something all of us could do
without… I’m sure anyone in their right mind would agree heartily…”

Assyria quietly leaned on Lucas’ side. She did not want to move too much as the emotional
burden she was experiencing was too great. She felt relieved that she could share this burden
of hers with Lucas.

“Luke, I’m going to be on the first shuttle leaving the Ulysses back to Earth. I hope you
understand why. I want to look for my family or whatever traces that are left of them – my
quest,” concluded Assyria.

“I understand, Ria. I’ll take over for you onboard the Ulysses until you’re ready to come
back. I wish you God-speed.”

A few days later, the shuttle heading for Cape Caneveral, Florida was fuelled and ready for
departure. By that time, Assyria was all packed and ready to embark on her mission – the
search for her family, the moment she touched ground.
Before entering the shuttle, she managed to say her goodbyes to her crew. At the entrance to
the shuttle, she found Luke waiting for her with a nervous look on his face.

“Why the look, Luke? Feeling sad that I’m leaving?” teased Assyria.

“Um… Ria, before you go, I just wanted to tell you that… there will be a ring with your
name on it waiting for you when you return.”

Knowing conclusively what this meant, Assyria could not contain her emotions and hugged
Luke affectionately. Without saying a word, she kissed him on his cheek and boarded the
shuttle.

Luke, who was now all smiles, watched from the window panel of the station as the shuttle
undocked itself from the Ulysses and began its voyage towards Earth. After watching the
shuttle float steadily towards Earth, Luke turned around towards his crew and said, “Anyone
for vacuum-packed ice-cream?”

Enormous groans emanated throughout the cabin crew as they were all too familiar with the
awkward and near-rancid taste of the NASA quality-approved ‘I Scream’ as most
crewmembers called it.

After All, It Isn’t That Bad

This nice short story was written by clgy.mhn, who is interested in freelance journalism and
newspaper writing. You can submit your essay and get it published on this blog too!

She looked so beautiful that morning. As I shifted my hands through her gorgeous hair, I
kissed her. “Take care, darling. Gotcha go to work,” I said, in my peculiar Australian and
European mixed accent. After waving at my wife, I got into my black Brabus S350, “sitting”
in my porch, growling. “Good day, Sir,” wished Mr. Baskaran, my personal driver, as he
started to drive the growling beast, ready to unleash its mighty horsepower. As I leaned back
in the posh leather seat, the 30 inch widescreen LCD screen started to unfold in front of me. It
resumed the episode of “House”, I was watching yesterday.

But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t enjoy the sarcasm of Hugh Laurie as I was too
preoccupied with what happened at work yesterday. Being a CEO of a multimillion dollar
company like Google does equate to a life full of stress and tension. The only consolation I
got was, the security analyst, who melted my heart and made me go on a cloud nine, Julie
became mine. Her smile made me euphoric, her eyes made me drool; her voice sent a tingling
sensation down my spine, which I longed for, every minute, every second.

“Mr. Mahen, we have arrived, Sir,” announced Baskaran as he opened the door and led me
into the giant headquarters of the world-renowned Google Inc. As I made my way through,
dozens of smiling faces wished me a good morning. But, the morning wasn’t good. The
thought of what I did yesterday was running all over my mind.

Hssh! the air-conditioner hummed as I went into my cabin. The most luxurious in the
building. The CEO room was finished with fine oak wood, enriched with blinds which are
controlled automatically, a foosball table and yes, a state-of-the-art computer system.
Slowly, I sat and took out the files. The figures were big and scary, some eight digits and
some nine. If it happened, I have no idea how I’m going to pay the foreign investors and even
worse, my staff! I need a solution, one which can solve this problem once and for all. Trying
to think as hard as I could, I closed my eyes. Just as I was trying to visualize some ideas,
there was a knock on the door. It was hard.

“Sorry to interrupt Sir, but here’s your cup of special Jamaican brewed mocha cappuccino,”
mumbled Sarah Lane, my personal assistant cum secretary. Still thinking hard, I brought the
porcelain cup closer to my mouth. There was a code on the cup. It read ‘CBSGOOGLEV2’.
Just as I started to take a sip, suddenly the missing pieces of the jigsaw in my mind came
together. YES! I’ve got it! It was all because of the ‘V2’ code on the cup. If it wasn’t for that
code, I wouldn’t have got it.

I immediately called my chief programming officer, Mr. Karl Benzer. A sore looking,
depressed, fat, belly-buttoned guy entered my cabin. “Take that look off your face at once,” I
exclaimed. “I’ve found the solution to our problem!” I shouted happily.

As though my words were words of some sorcerer’s magic, the sore look disappeared. His
teeth started to show and he was desperate to know further. I poured the whole thing.
“Benzer, settle down and I’ll tell you.” “Initially, as you know, we were facing a losing battle
with those scoundrels who stole our new unreleased software, Gamma Google. If it went into
the pirate’s hand, we would be bankrupt........ .” As I was talking, Benzer interrupted me.
“But sir that is what we were discussing the whole day long yesterday. Tell me how you are
going to overcome it,” blattered my impatient staff.

“It’s like this. They’ve stolen Gamma Google which wasn’t ready and for testing purposes, I
secretly added a command which would allow the software to self-destruct no matter
wherever it is in the world. How silly of me to forget about that,” I explained contentedly to
Karl. “Wow! It’s a huge relieve to hear that, sir. I will start working on executing the
command strings you’ve put in,” said Karl.

That evening, I left early. I wanted to take my wife to an exclusive, select restaurant as a
treat. I hit the pause button of the LCD TV and I called my wife to inform her about the good
news while I was in the Brabus. Later, I resumed watching and yes, it was that sarcastic
doctor’s show being screened. Hey, who said being a CEO of a multimillion dollar company
like Google equate to a life full of stress and tension? After all, it isn’t that bad.

Haze: A Danger to Health - Sample Essay: Directed Writing

DIRECTED WRITING: 35 MARKS

DIRECTED: ARTICLE: Factual

You are concerned over the implications and long-term health effects of the haze. Write an
article to the local newspaper expressing your concern based on all the notes below.

 the reasons behind the haze

 role of government and society
 steps that can be taken
 give relevant examples of:
- health complications
- measures
- roles of government and individuals

When writing the article you should remember:

- to lay out the letter carefully
- to use paragraphs
- that you letter is to the press

Haze: A Danger to Health

The haze is a constant phenomenon faced by Malaysia and her neighbouring
countries. The haze is basically pollution of atmosphere, which is clogged with pollutants and
other substances from forest fires.

The haze is a direct effect of forest fire in Kalimantan and other parts of Indonesia due
to slash and burn method of farming. The Indonesian authorities appear to have no power to
control farmers from practising such methods. The haze is further worsened by open burning
practised by most Malaysians. Open-field burning of rice straw by the rice planters and open
burning of dried leaves and garbage done by the public are a few examples that done by
Malaysian. Many are ignorant of the health effects of open burning.

During the haze, hospitals and clinic often report a dramatic increase in respiratory
problems, lung infections and asthma attack. The Air Pollution Index (API) usually indicates
the hazardous and dangerous levels of pollution during this period. The haze has long-term
side effects. Prolonged inhalation of polluted air will result in serious lung infection which
particularly affects the elderly.

The government must play its role to reduce the haze treat. It has to cooperate with
the Indonesian authorities to stamp out forest fires. The culprits must be brought to justice,
either through healthy fine or prison sentence. Constant vigilance would ensure the
perpetrators do not repeat their offence.

The government should also raise the public awareness of the dangers of forest fire.
Continuous campaign of the cause, solutions and steps-need-to-be-taken to reduce the haze
need to be promoted through all types of social media like television, radio, newspaper and
even via internet. The authorities should also provide assistance to farmers and introduce
more sophisticated forest clearing methods.

In Malaysia, strict laws must be imposed to penalise those who practise open burning.
On-going campaigns on the dangers of open burning should be intensified. Individuals too
have a role to play. They must participate in every campaign and stop burning. Students can
advise their parents not to practice open burning.

Every individual has to remember that we do not own the world, but instead we lent it
from our future generations. We must protect our world so that our grandchildren woulh have
a healthy earth to live.

Ahmad Harun bin Hashim

Seremban, Negeri Sembilan
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