Narrative Writing Samples

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.

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 –]

Narrative Essay: Forgiven

This good English essay writing was submitted by roseberry. You cansubmit 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
essayand 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 essayand 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 harwork.

Source: By Roshini Bala

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 byclgy.mhn, who is interested in freelance journalism and newspaper
writing. You can submit your essayand 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.