This was an English assignment for a practice essay for when the exam. The title was the topic, and I chose a narrative theme. I got full marks. (A - ma - lee - a) (Len)
She eyed the object against the wall with a curiously confused look on her face. Her foster parent called it a 'Welcome-to-the-family' present, a T.V. What's T.V? She stood in her new bedroom staring at the big, black rectangle as though waiting for it to do something, but to no avail. "Did you not have a television set in your old home?" Her new mother asked, obviously surprised. Amalia nodded. "Well, how about this?" She held out a small wrapped box, "Mike was hoping to give it to you himself, but he had to leave for a business trip."
Amalia took the present that was from her new father and opened it. Inside was another black object that was so shiny she could see her reflection. She didn't take it out, she was too afraid of what it would do if she touched it. "An iPod Touch." Lenne said, "You've heard of it, yes?" Amalia shook her head. What's iPod? "This is such a surprise," Lenne commented, "the social worker said you grew up in a sheltered lifestyle, but I didn't think it was that sheltered." She pointed out a few other things in the room that Amalia had never seen, or heard of before. A laptop, stereo, remote control for the T.V, Playstation 3, VCR, and DVD player.
What are these things? They're all dark and ugly. Lenne called them electronics, items made to keep people entertained. Apparently, all she had to do was sit, watch and listen, and occasionally move your hand or adjust your sitting position. Pathetic. Growing up, Amalia would help her mother in the garden and around the house, help her elder brother fix and build things. Her grandmother would school her in sewing, dancing, singing, and collecting herbs, her grandfather gave her lessons in school subjects, teaching her everything from grade 2 to university in only seven years. She was never bored, if there was nothing else to do she would listen to her big sisters stories or read a book. That was entertainment, and to say that these 'machines' were fun and educating made her sick.
"Dinner won't be ready for awhile," Lenne said, suddenly interrupting Amalia's thoughts. "Watch some T.V." Lenne turned on the machine, and found Amalia a channel she thought she'd fine interesting, while talking her through it. Once the parent left her alone, Amalia watched the images move about the screen, flinching at the sight of explosions, blood, men and women wearing almost nothing, children crying, animals dying for biting someone, forests burning, and blue lakes turning black. Stories behind these images were being told by a man and woman sitting at a table with expressionless faces. Whenever Amalia's sister told stories she would express the characters feelings with her face and voice. and no matter what, the ending was always happy. But here, the voices were cold and faces stone, and none of the stories ended happily.
Amalia broke down. She cried. She hated it here. She wanted her family. She wanted the world she knew best. That world was beautiful. This one was ugly. That world was safe. This world was scary.
She cried. And she cried. And cried, and cried, and cried.
View User's Journal
Peoms
this journal contains depressing poems. So if you don't like reading about people dying...then KEEP OUT. Scratch that. SOME of the poems are dark.
 |
User Comments: [1]
|
User Comments: [1]