Monday, August 13, 2012

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...]

2 comments:

shanky gulyani said...

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Anonymous said...

too hard to understand even for teacehrs