A week before the trial, I did a lesson where I asked my 5 Bestari students to fill in the blanks with verbs. Here is the story (with the omitted verbs in red):
It was a blazing summer’s day. My
surroundings were slowly starting to melt: the trees, the houses, the sky and
the pathway to my garage. It seemed that I was about to dissipate as well,
becoming a puddle of glue-like substance left on the ground.
I was walking at crawling speed. My head
felt huge and heavy, and each muscle in my body felt sore. My arms and legs were responding to the signals that my brain was sending to them at a slower speed than I
thought was possible. It felt like a slow-motion horror movie, only it was
happening live. I finally reached the front door and touched the handle
with a loose grip. The path that took only a second for my eyes to see took
about twenty minutes for my body to cover. But, I was finally at my goal.
I slowly squeezed the handle of the
door in a downwards motion, only to realize it had barely moved. I gathered the
last reserves of my strength that I had left in my body and pressed the handle
again. No success. I pivoted around, leaned against the door, and slowly
slid down to the ground. I felt faint. I was so thirsty that I could
barely think about anything else. I had to get inside; had to pull myself
together and open the door. Otherwise, I would faint there, near the front
entrance to my own house.
I pushed myself up from the ground
and faced the door again. I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep
breath, opened them, and pulled the door knob down as hard as I could. It gave
way grudgingly. If it wasn’t for the helpless shadow of a man that I was at
that moment, I would definitely have screamed in happiness for finally winning
over this stubborn door knob. But I could only settle on a weak smile and a
deep sigh.
I went inside and had to wait for
a minute before I could make out my environment. It was too dark, still boiling
hot and, somehow, lonely inside. By the time my eyes adapted to the darkness
inside, I could tell that no one was around. What time was it? And where was
everyone? The house was completely and scarily quiet. The silence was
unnatural. There was no sound coming from the working fridge, or ticking clock;
nothing. I went to the kitchen to get some water, opened the tap and put
an empty glass under it. But no water poured, not even a drop. The glass remained
empty. This seemed like a complete nightmare. I thought that I must have
been dreaming – my small world had become ravished by emptiness, and somehow, I
was forgotten here all alone, left to pass away into the realms of thirst and
heat.
I was having a panic attack. Yet with
the panic, I was enabled by strength to run from one room to another, looking
for anyone besides myself. Mom, Josh, dad, Charlie – no one was to be seen. The
dogs were gone too. What is wrong with my home? Again, for the third or fourth
time, I caught myself thinking this was just a bad dream. But my body still
vividly felt the pains of soreness. Having no clue of what else, except the
pain, that could help me distinguish between dreaming and reality, I had to
accept the fact that I was living in this nightmare for real.
Suddenly, I heard a sound from
downstairs. It was a faint sound that repeated in a second, only louder. I jolted
downstairs, feeling cautious and, at the same time, hoping that it was someone,
or something, that could explain to me what was going on.
The living room was empty. The source of
the sound seemed to be from the back porch outside, and it was increasing in volume
with every new cycle. It reminded me of when dad and I went rowing, and every
time dad turned over the oars, they made the same whistling sound, cleaving the
air. I ran outside the back door and was almost brought down to the ground by the force of the wind. It was a helicopter, right above me,
maneuvering so that it would land on me. I laid on the ground, screaming,
but I couldn’t hear my voice through the noise of the implacable blades getting
closer, and freezing me to the ground….
… “Jason, honey, wake up! It’s just a
dream, babe. You look so pale. Are you okay?”
My mom was standing next to my bed like a
guardian statue. She tried to appease me as I was still screaming and
flapping my arms. When I calmed down to a relative level of normalcy, I stared at the fan above my head, spinning and whistling like a nightmare creator.
1 comment:
You have a very nice blog I like it! Liisa from Stockholm http://efecta.se
Post a Comment