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Friday, June 6, 2014

A Girl's Silence is Sugar (a college assignment)

Hello, y'all.

I know it's so late at night, and I feel sorry that I haven't been taking a chance to write a blog at this time of the day. But that's because I had to spend most of the afternoon doing chores at my dad's house. In addition, I ran into some Internet connection problems, so I spent three hours playing RollerCoaster Tycoon on a tower computer with Windows XP.

Anyway, here's another assignment I want to share with you all. This time, it's a short sketch I was assigned to do for my Creative Writing course, where we learn rather quickly what are some of the realities we must learn when coming up with a story to write, making us qualify as authors. This was a contemporary course at my college.

It's really short, yes; only 500 words long. But it can be very enduring in some way, if you can connect it to some real-world issues around, especially with what are the intertwined themes expressed in this sketch. Enjoy reading!




Discouraged, dissatisfied, silent, like the Statue of Liberty as methane and disgusting apples; no torch.

As I commence my entry for the night, the bubble I, Abigail Catlove, surround into, designates me as no one but a slur. Why? Oh, why?

Take me in and I shall tell you why; entry time for February 26, 1999, Leaside High School, Toronto.

That lab took me in with that bubbly voice and the feel of 'elastic' hands. Multiple test tubes and beakers. My classmates filled the classroom with chatter, while silence came to my mind throughout. Next, as I went to get my lunch, someone took me from behind with all the people neglecting this; silence rolled on me again.

I satisfied myself in a locked room, with an experience of cold, no light. "Ben Pushlow," the sadistic and serious voice said. That someone, "Ben," shout out, "worthless," "misleading," "less interested than men," and "incompetent." That name-calling business; one of millions of the acceptable practice, in Africa, to females, like a woman in a white dress succumbed to 'depression.' 

That Ben Pushlow pushed me to the cafeteria for me to eat fries with him, while he took chicken salad and apple juice.
Most insulting experience? Ben publicized this pleasingly: "Abigail, as bride, dreams of copulation to me; she progresses to hookers!" Woman in white dress disintegrated to 'blackness.'

I screamed disparagingly, as deer hunted by wolf, "What?! How so?" Those teenagers around us soon surrounded us with comedy. Afterwards, tears flowed down from my watery eyes; Ben called me like nothing, terribly nothing. "Excuse me, mister; can you come with me?" said a lunch monitor who stepped to behind us. 

Ben acknowledged with, "As long as I kiss this girl; Abigail is strawberries." Sighting away from the floor, I learned that Ben disappeared.

Few minutes later, no decision made personally to step up from this freezing outbreak, and no voice, until another lunch monitor escorted me to a vice-principal bureau.

"I contacted police to arrest Ben for harassment and bullying. However, you can't always silence yourself, Abigail; Ben took a bad decision to kidnap you and tell you as 'nothing' with a chance for assault. Stand up and question yourself for protection as well as socializing with others," said the principal. "You comprehend?"

Sighed, I said "yes..."

"Abigail, forget about denial. Seek, for the future, the good of putting yourself on. Better than communicating in sign language and ending in misery," principal said in sensitivity. "Interact with your best friends and catch on with sentimental value and moods."

Not long thereafter, I carefully progressed for the rest of the day thanks to the attendance of an assistant like a caring childhood teacher. 

Weeks, months, or even years, for me to come and conclude as, "I accept into enfranchisement." However, that final period crosses me with the checkered flag. Lights off, and sleep time, for me to envision the dream of success from out of this distraught.



In case you are wondering what is the definition of a "hooker," it's an American slang for someone working in prostitution.


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