Continuous Writing - A close encounter with an insane woman

While you were waiting at the school gate for your mother to pick you up after remediation class, a lady walked up to you.

One by one, my classmates left. By 4 p.m., I was standing at the school gate, all by myself, waiting for my mother to pick me up. I had expected to see her as soon as I reached the school gate for my remediation class ended ten minutes late today.

“What’s taking her so long? Could she have forgotten about me?” I muttered to myself, pacing up and down anxiously outside my school.

Minutes and seconds ticked by. My anxiety escalated to a point which was close to panic. “If I do not see her in five minutes, I will not wait for her anymore,” I decided.

Just then, from a distance, my constricted heart loosened in relief when I saw a familiar figure approaching me. My mother had finally appeared! As she sauntered closer, uneasiness set in. Why was she not rushing when she was so late? This was not typical of her at all.

I could see quite clearly from about ten metres away her new hairdo. I gathered quickly in my mind what could have caused her to keep me waiting for so long. I waved wildly in the air. She waved back.

“Hey! Wait a minute! That’s not my mother!” I told myself. Now that she was nearer, I realized that her resemblance to my mother only stopped at her medium-sized frame and her rotund body shape. This lady was much younger. I retracted my waving hand. By then, she was only less than two metres away from me, near enough to see how flustered I was from embarrassment. Feeling sheepish, I smiled a silly smile and looked away from her to mask my awkwardness.

“Dear, so sorry to have kept you waiting,” the lady apologized.

I looked at her, completely baffled. What the lady did next was even more unexpected. She took a step forward and held my hand. I gasped and almost coughed my heart out but was too shocked to pull my hand from her grasp.
“Don’t be angry, Karen. I am sorry that I have made you wait,” she apologised, bent forward and looked directly into my eyes. I reeled back but could not break away from her vice-like grip. Her face was so close to mine that I could count the number of sweat pores. And, the stench emitting from her breath was so foul that I could almost faint.  

“But I don’t know who you are. I waved to you just now because I thought you were my mother,” I mustered my courage to explain politely, fighting against my will not to cup my free hand over my nose.

Much to my horror, the lady flew into hysteria. She pulled me towards her and started sobbing. I struggled to release myself from her embrace but it only got tighter.

“Don’t go, Karen. Please don’t leave me again. I promised I won’t be late again,” she pleaded in between sobs.

“I am not Karen! I don’t know you!” I tried to push her away in vain.

Just then, like music to my ears, a man’s hoarse voice thundered, ”Let her go!”

The voice belonged to Mr Ali, our school security guard. He marched forward and separated me from the lady’s grip. Like a prisoner set free, I took refuge behind my saviour. But at this moment, the lady turned violent and started hurling a flurry of expletives at us.

I was scared out of my soul. Never in my life had I seen anyone who had lost all the sanity. Mr Ali caught hold of her arms for fear that she might hurt me. He radioed for help. Soon, his colleague, Mr Samy, came running to the gate to assist him. In their haste to drag the lady into the school, they left me behind. I was all alone again but I did not mind at all.

My mother showed up eventually. I was so eager to tell her all about my encounter with the insane lady that I forgot to blame her for being late.

Continuous Writing (Picture) - Begging in a School Canteen

As a canteen vendor, I saw with my own eyes, day in and day out, countless number of children of school-going age. Children, like fish sold in the market, come in all shapes and sizes. Most are innocent and cheerful, some others more mature and a small fraction of them surprise us with the way they behave and act.

Dishes cooked, rice apportioned into plates, I was all prepared to get busy once the bell rang for recess.

The canteen came into life as the ever energetic children buzzed in like a swarm of bees. Squeals of laughter, lively chatters filled the air. A line formed in front of my stall and I served my little customers promptly.

The queue shortened. Most of the children were at the tables, tucking into their food. It was then when a scrawny boy, out of nowhere, showed up in the canteen. Unkempt and filthy, a revolting odour emanated from his body wafted intrusively through the air. Our canteen, humble in size, was instantly filled with an overbearing stench.

Many children noticed this outsider’s presence. Apparently not a pupil from this school, he was cast with looks of hostility. I observed with interest from my stall, anticipating what this boy would do and how the children would respond.

The boy shuffled listlessly to the eating area. Other than in clothing that was over-mended and dirtied beyond imagination, he looked no different from all the other children. Aged 11, my guess, his blood-shot eyes scanned around the canteen. Like a hungry lion in search of its prey, he quietly decided on his target. Target identified, he made hesitant steps towards Mandy, a Primary 3 girl who patronised my stall frequently.

I watched, more curiously and intently, for the incident to unfold itself.

“Errr, excuse me. Do you think you could lend me a dollar or two? I am starving,” he spoke like a gentleman, which surprised me greatly.

Mandy was however caught not by surprise but shock. She recoiled and was lost for words the next few seconds. Two pupils at the next table reacted strongly. They threw him rude stares, pointing fingers and gesturing to Mandy against helping the beggar boy. Others frowned with disgust.

Oblivious to all the disapproving remarks, he spoke again, confirming my impression of him as a well-mannered boy, “Erm… excuse me. I’m sorry if I have scared you. I am wondering if you can spare me some money to buy some food. I’m really hungry.”

“No, Mandy! You don’t have to give him,” her classmates said, trying to influence her decision.

Having regained her composure, Mandy reached her hand into her pocket for her purse. From the purse, she pulled out a crisp piece of five-dollar note and passed it to the boy nonchalantly.

“You may keep this but you should not go about begging for money. It steals away your dignity,” said Mandy matter-of-factly like a wise sage.

“Thank you very much. I will remember your kindness and teaching,” the boy received the note politely with two hands. With that, he left the school leaving everyone, including me, completely nonplussed.
This episode which took less than ten minutes taught me much. I learnt from Mandy the unconditional willingness to help and her wisdom. It was no surprise she was awarded the Star Pupil at the end of the year. What came as a real surprise was that the beggar boy was actually the Principal’s son in disguise to test if Mandy fulfilled one of the selection criteria of a Star Pupil.

Continuous Writing (Picture) - Begging in a School Canteen

“Can you give me some money?” begged a boy, dressed in some patched filthy looking t-shirt and shorts. His beady eyes could hardly be seen as he tried to squeeze a smile on his dirt-stained face.

Jane, one of the eight prefects, who was given permission to have an earlier recess, had to carry out her duties once the rest of the pupils were dismissed from their respective classes. She was enjoying her plate of chicken rice when the boy approached her. She almost had a choke from her meal as she did not expect to be approached.

Jane had no idea who the boy was and looking at him, she could only conclude that he must have been starved for a day or two. He had a foul stench which could make one vomit. Jane decided to get the poor boy a bowl of noodles.

The stallholder selling noodles saw the poor boy and she gave Jane the bowl of noodles without charging her. Grateful to the benevolent vendor, Jane took the hot bowl to the boy. He looked at Jane, tears at the corner of his eyes, gobbled up the noodles and slurped down the hot soup within seconds.

Jane offered a piece of tissue paper to the boy while the other prefects looked at both of them in awe. Jane paid no attention to the rest of them.They were whispering among themselves and were curious who the boy was.

Knowing that she was not in position to make decision, Jane took the boy the General Office and informed her form teacher, Ms Tan. Ms Tan took over the case and found out more about the boy’s background.

The boy was one of the school attendant’s son. He was not feeling well that morning and the school attendant had no alternatives but to bring him to the school. He had fever and was weak as he had no solid food for the past two days. His mother had forgotten to give him money as she was busy with her work.

The school attendant, Mdm Jasmine Quek, was called to the General Office and she was apologetic after learning what her son had done. Ms Tan reassured her that it was no trouble but the most important thing was that her son’s health must be taken care of first. Ms Tan gave her a fifty-dollar note to take her child to the clinic.

Speechless, Mdm Quek took the money and after thanking Ms Tan repeatedly, she took her son to the clinic.

Jane stood outside the General Office and she witnessed the episode. Touched by Ms Tan’s gestures, she vowed to exhibit the school’s value on affection more by being the role model and practising it like what Ms Tan had just done.  

Courtesy of Mrs Mak

Continuous Writing - While you were waiting at the school gate...

While you were waiting at the school gate for your mother to pick you up after remediation class, a lady walked up to you.

Finally the clock on the wall struck half past three and the dragging of the chairs and the exchange of greeting between the pupils and teacher were heard. After that, the pupils ran down to stairs as if they had been waiting for the remedial lesson to end.

I walked briskly towards the school gate, eager to see my mother waiting for me. I looked out of the gate but I saw no sign of her. It was unusual of her to be late. I sat on the bench and read my story book. Then I saw a figure approaching me, I quickly kept my book and was ready to hold the hand. When I looked up, I was so embarrassed and shocked!  

Ending 1

The hand belonged to Ms Chua, my principal! At that moment, I could feel the blood gushing to my cheeks and the rest of my face. I was sure my face had turned as red as the tomatoes. My hands turned cold. Panicked, I apologised feverishly. I could imagine how amused Ms Chua felt. I felt the relief when I saw the smile on her face telling me she did not mind at all.

As if searching for the appropriate words, Ms Chua held my hand and gestured me to sit down. I could never forget the serious expression on her face. Slowly and calmly, she broke the news to me – My mother was involved in an accident while on her way to pick me up. She was taken to Tan Tock Seng hospital and my father was on his way to the hospital.

Flabbergasted, I was at a loss of words. My mind went blank. The spoken words that followed were mute to me. My mind was spinning. Before I knew it, tears had wet my entire face. Ms Chua offered to take me to the hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital, my mother had been in the operating theatre for hours. I saw my father pacing up and down the aisle, I could feel his anxiety and the fear of losing my mother. Fighting back my tears, I walked up to my father and hugged him hard. I reassured him that my mother would pull through and we would be a happy family again.

Speechless, tears just rolled down my father’s cheek. I knew at that instant, the situation might be worse than I had imagined. I looked at Ms Chua, hoping to get some assurance from her that my mother would be fine. I guessed at that moment all she could do was to lend me a shoulder to cry on.

Finally, the surgeons were out from the operating theatre, exhausted. They broke the news that my mother was out of danger but she would need to be under observation and be put in the Intensive Care unit (ICU) till her conditions stabilised. Upon hearing that, the fear and anxiety were immediately lifted from my father and me.

We turned to Ms Chua and thanked her for being there with my family. She left shortly after and my dad and I went to the ICU to look at our feeble woman of the house. I began to realise how precious and fragile life can be and also, in times of crisis, the support we get from our family and friends is so valuable and important.

Ending 2
The hand belonged to a stranger! Her pink blouse and white skirt showed her fair skin while her sandals added a few inches to her slim frame. Her glasses, perched at the end of her nose, enhanced her delicate features.

She smiled and asked me if I knew of anyone by the name of Joshua Tan. At that instance, I had no idea till she gave me more descriptions. Joshua was also in Primary 5 and he was a new foreign pupil. That rang a bell as I remembered Mrs Mak mention we had a new pupil joining Pr 5-9.

I told the lady to follow me to the staff room where she could make her enquiries. After that, I left to wait for my mother. While walking towards the gate, I saw my mother with a boy. He was obviously feeling lost and perspiration had drenched his shirt. I walked up to them and discovered that the boy had missed his school bus and lost his way home.

I read the name off his nametag – Joshua Tan! Was he the boy? I began to ask him a string of questions which he did not seem to understand. Slowly, he began to utter a word in mandarin “bu dong” which means he did not understand.

Speaking in mandarin, I asked him if he was from Primary 5-9. He responded and I took him to the office to meet his mother. When his mother saw him, she iwas so glad that he was safe and sound that she immediately gave him a hug. His mother thanked me and Aunt Celia, the office liaison officer for helping to look for her son.

Walking towards the gate, my mother was waiting patiently for me. I was prepared for her to give me a lecture for taking such a long time to send the boy to the office. On the contrary, she patted me on my shoulder and smiled. I knew she was proud of me!

Joshua’s mother thanked my mother for bringing her lost son back. As my mother was not very good with words, she just smiled at them before we walked home. 

During assembly the following day, my principal mentioned my name to the school and commended the help I had rendered and that she was proud of me. I was flabbergasted as I thought it was only our duty to help our fellow friends. Well, that acknowledgement had made me the star for the day. Now, I believe it pays to be kind.

Courtesy of Mrs Mak

Continuous Writing - Runaway Maid

One afternoon, you returned from tuition class and found your front door wide open. There was no one at home. However, the television was on.

One fine day, my mother, a homemaker for more than ten years, received a phone call from her previous employer. He wanted to offer her a job. We gave her all our support to pursue her career. With that decision made, the need for a maid thus arose naturally.

Eka arrived, meek and obedient. She performed her tasks fairly well. She washed, cooked, ironed and kept the house clean enough. We were quite pleased with this new member living under the same roof.

With Eka's help at home, my mother could focus on her job without much worries.

Last Friday, I returned from tuition class and found the front door wide open.

"Eka! I'm home!"I called out for her. There was no response. 

I walked into the house and looked for her. The television was switched on to the RTM channel. She was not in the kitchen. Neither was she in her room. I searched the toilets and the bedrooms. 

There was no food on the dining table. The basketful of laundry was untouched and worst, she was nowhere in sight. More angry than puzzled, I flung my bag on the couch. We had instructed her many times not to switch on the television.

My rumbling stomach protested in hunger. I went to the kitchen to prepare cup noodles and hastily loaded the washing machine with the soiled laundry.

"Where could she be? She is not supposed to go out at this hour!" I complained to myself.

With the cup noodles in my hand, I walked back to the living room. I passed by her room and sensed something fishy. I pushed the door open and stuck my head in to take a peek.

To my least expected, the room was bare except for the neatly rolled up mattress. Her two duffel bags were gone. I went to the common toilet. My heart sank. I did not see her towel and her toiletries.

She had run away. Our maid had run away!

Why? Why did she run away? Was it planned or done onimpulse?

I called my mother to tell her my discovery. My voice shook when I spoke to my mother. I felt both angry and betrayed. Judging from the door and television, she must have left hastily.

I completely forgot my hunger. We had been treating her well and she did not show any displeasure working for us. Why did she have to pack up and leave without a word?

We notified the maid agency. They advised us to wait. They seemed nonchalant about the matter for they had come across runaway maids too many times. Confidently, the agent told us that she would show up either at the agency or the embassy.

True enough, when we next heard about Eka from the maid agency, she had been repatriated to Indonesia by the embassy. It was not known why she chose to leave.

It is four months after she packed up and disappeared from our house. We struggled a bit without her but life moves on. My mother is doing well in her job. I still go to school every day.

There is no more Eka to prepare the meals and to get the housework done. Nonetheless, life goes on, with or without her.

Continuous Writing - Disappointment to parents

“You should not have done such a thing. You have disappointed both of us very much,” said my father. I looked at my parents and lowered my head. I was indeed apologetic for my action. I had never expected things to turn out this way.

Last Wednesday, I was at home helping my mother to do some household chores. I folded the clothes and kept them in the right drawers neatly. I enjoyed helping out as it made my mum happy. Looking after my two-year-old toddler brother was tiring for her. All this while, my mum had not been in her pink of health and my younger brother was a bit too active for her to handle. I tried to do what I could to relieve her from her chores.

“Ah Di, keep your hands off the cup,” my mum said to my brother. My brother toddled away and my mother quickly chased after him for fear that he might fall. I rose to my feet to place the cup back to the dining table.

“Ring… “ The phone rang. I answered the call.

I froze in fear when I recognized the voice of the caller. Chills ran down my spine. I did not expect her to call. I thought she would never call. I was wrong.

“Who’s that, Sam?” my mother asked across the living room.

“It’s for you, Mum,” I answered, handing her the receiver in cold and clammy hands.

I dared not look into my mum’s eyes. I knew it was too late to do any redemption. My doomsday arrived, much earlier than I expected.

My mum did not talk much over the phone. She was listening to the caller and nodding her head most of the time. Her brows furrowed and her cheeks turned ruddy. It was a bad sign for me.

“Thank you so much for calling me. Good bye,” Mum hung up the phone and slumped heavily on the chair. I guessed her heart also plunged hard together with the slump. Her eyes stared blankly in the air. After a while, she stood up and walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

In the evening, I heard my parents’ muffled conversation coming from their bedroom, occasionally punctuated with heavy sighs. My heart sank. “I shouldn’t have done it,” I reproached myself. I was preparing for the worst when the bedroom door opened.

My father appeared from the door, looking very grim. He sat down and gestured me to go over. My heart raced and my hands trembled. My feet moved against my will towards my dad, the figure of authority in the family.

“You should not have done such a thing. You have disappointed both of us very much,” said my father. “Your form teacher called this afternoon. You have been keeping us in the dark,” he continued, his voice raised this time.

“How many times have you played truant? Why did you do that?” his eyes shot at me, demanding for an answer.

I looked at my parents and lowered my head. I was indeed apologetic for my action. I was such a letdown. My heart was filled with remorse. How silly of me to think that I could get away! I had thought that by escaping, my overdue assignments would miraculously be forgotten by my teacher. I had never expected things to turn out this way. Hurting my parents was the last thing on my mind.

I kept quiet. My father flew into a rage. His hand swept furiously and rained whippings on me. I knelt on the floor and asked for his forgiveness. “I know I am wrong. I will not do it again. I will hand in all the work by next week,” I pleaded with my father.

My mum’s tears could not stop flowing. I could feel her pain. She must be so disappointed that her filial son was a truant. How could she ever accept that? My dad dropped the cane. He went into his room without saying a word.

I wiped away my tears. “This will be last time I do this to my parents,” I swore.

Continuous Writing (Picture)- Sports Day

Tom could hear his heart pounding fast in his chest. He drew in a deep breath to calm down. He had been waiting for this day to arrive - the day which he could challenge top athletes from other schools, the day which he could challenge himself, his greatest rival.

The stadium was pulsating with excitement. The spectators cheered and clapped wildly when the names of their school athletes were announced. "Lane 4, Tom Lim from Stanfeld Primary School," the announcer's voice blasted through the speakers. Tom's supporters went into a frenzy of excitement. Many stood up and waved vigorously at him. Some whistled and yelled at the top of their lungs.

At the start line, Tom got into position, his heart hammering harder. He must not let his school down. He must not let himself down after many months of training. Eyes fixed at the finish line a hundred metres away, he waited in anticipation for the starter's cue. The cheers grew louder, but he did not hear them. He was in full concentration. A bead of perspiration dripped from his forehead to the ground.

"Bang!" went the starter's gun. All the athletes took off like jet fighters. Tom's strides were long and powerful. All the athletes were running neck and neck. Tom's strength and speed built up with each stride and was taking the lead at the 50m mark. The athletes second and third in position were trailing very close behind. Tom gritted his teeth. He pushed himself harder, swinging his arms more forcefully to propel his body forward. "Just a few more strides to go," he urged himself on in his mind.

The spectators cheered and their excitement reached the peak when they saw the athlete fourth in position gaining on speed, threatening to overtake the runners ahead of him. Just as he was a hairline away, he suddenly lost his balance and tumbled forward. He landed on the runner in front of him who in turn fell on the one ahead like dominoes.

Tom heard a few thuds in quick succession behind him. The roaring of the spectators turned into gasps of shock and disbelief. Tom, however, did not look back. He sprinted his way to victory with two hands raised in the air.

Behind him came the rest one after another. The three who fell somehow managed to pick themselves and hobbled past the finish line. And now, the spectators roared to the true spirit of sportsmanship and vibrated the whole stadium. Tom applauded for them and rendered help.

It was a race of double celebration with a new national record and true sportsmanship.

Continuous Writing - My best friend's Phonecall

You were at home preparing for the coming examination. The phone rang. It was your best friend.

The examination was round the corner. I was at my desk, buried in a pile of notes. The clock chimed five times. I had to cover two more topics before my younger sisters came home. It would not be possible to study once they reached home. I looked out of the window to rest my eyes.

“Ring… Ring…” the phone rang. I stood up to answer the phone, prancing on the opportunity to take a longer breather.

“Hello, Linda. Do you want to come over for tea? I just baked brownies and it was a great success!” invited May, my best friend. She sounded exhilarated.

“I don’t think so, May. I still have tons to go through. Where on earth did you find time to bake?” I declined although I could hear my stomach growling in hunger.

“Oh! I am done with my revision. Come on, Linda. It won’t take long,” coaxed May.

May knew me too well. It was not me to reject good food. Furthermore, it was brownies, one of my favourites. The thought of a plate of hot brownies topped with ice cream made me salivate. I gulped down a mouthful of saliva.

“Err… don’t tempt me, Linda. You know I have a sweet tooth,” I answered, fighting hard to curb the temptation.

“Well, I’ll leave it to you. Give me a call should you change your mind,” May said understandingly. We ended the conversation and I returned to my revision. I was grateful that May did not persist. I would have succumbed to her invitation if she had coaxed further.

I had difficulty concentrating after the phone call. I could not lift my mind off the brownies. The image of them swirled in my mind, drifting me mind further and further away from my notes.

Time was ticking furiously away. I clutched my head to bring myself back. It was futile.

The doorbell rang.

I walked to the door.

“Surprise!!! It’s me!” I could not believe my eyes.

It was May, holding a brownie in front of me.

“Brownies for you, Ma’am?” May said teasingly, her eyes glinting in mischief. She handed the brownie to me. Of course, I was all ready to savour it .

“Thanks May. You really know me too well. I have been thinking of the brownies after talking to you,” I said in between nibbling on the mouth-watering brownie.

“Ha ha, I knew it. That’s why I am here. Well, I have to go now. Study hard!”

May left. I slurped the last bit of brownie in satisfaction. The brownie really did wonders. I was back to the notes in full concentration!

Continuous Writing (Picture) - A faulty Ceiling Fan in the school canteen

The canteen sprang into life when the ten o’clock bell rang. It was the long-awaited recess time. The aroma of food wafted though the air. Pupils were seen gathering in groups, talking and bantering away excitedly. Lines were formed in front of the stalls.

Soon, the queues before each stall shortened as more and more pupils settled on the tables and benches to feast on their food. May, a Primary 5 prefect, was on duty. She was to maintain the discipline and order in the school canteen.

At the corner of the canteen, no one had noticed that one of the ceiling fans was hanging precariously. It was droning with a peculiar sound. As it whirred on, it dropped lower by the minute. Within minutes, it was dangling dangerously only on the last screw! Cracks were also spotted on the ceiling around the fan. Danger was looming in the air.

All of a sudden, a loud crack was heard. Everyone swiveled their necks in unison to the source of the crack. They gasped in shock when they saw the fan swaying from left to right, threatening to fall any second. The sight wreaked havoc and sent everyone screaming and scampering wildly out of the canteen. They abandoned their food and dispersed in all directions. The stall vendors fled from their stalls for safety too. There was utter chaos.

May started barking out orders to the pupils. “Keep away from the fan! Move out of the canteen orderly. Do not panic,” she ordered as the directed the pupils. The canteen was vacated in less than two minutes.

Meanwhile, the last screw finally loosened and the fan plunged with a loud crash on the table below. The impact from the fallen fan sent the cutlery flying and smashed the table below it. Luckily, everyone escaped unscathed. Thanks to the quick thinking of May!

The incident was reported and repair work was arranged by the school administrative manager. The area was cleaned up and cordoned off to prevent pupils from going near it. Investigations were carried out and all the fans were inspected to ensure the safety of the school population. Everything went back to normal again the following day.

Picture will be uploaded later...

Continuous Writing – A stroll along the beach

One afternoon, you decided to go for a stroll along the beach near your home. It was quite deserted but you had your dog with you and you did not feel afraid. However, as you came near some bushes, your dog suddenly began to bark furiously.

I closed my eyes, taking in the fresh and crisp smell of the fallen leaves along the beach near my home. The beach was quite deserted but peaceful in the afternoon. One after another, the waves lapped on the shore. A gentle breeze was blowing, caressing my cheeks. What a perfect afternoon!

Pepper, my Golden Retriever, was with me. She seemed to feel as relaxed as I was till she suddenly refused to move another inch forward when we were near some bushes. “What’s wrong, Pepper?” I asked her, crouching down to stroke her. She suddenly burst into a bout of angry barking. I was taken aback. Pepper was a good-natured dog. It was just not her to behave in this manner. From her eyes, I saw rage and a tinge of fear. Her incessant barking grew louder and fiercer. All this while, she never lifted her eyes off the bushes. After what seemed like ten minutes, her barking ceased. She stood on her haunches, eyes fixed on the bushes.

Sensing something amiss, I advanced carefully towards the bushes. I parted the bushes with trembling hands, expecting the worst. True enough, when the gap was wide enough for me to peer through, what greeted me was a gruesome sight that I could never forget. And I knew what had sent my dog into such frenzy.

It was a family of cats, dead cats, all brutally bashed and mutilated. I blanched at the ghastly sight of the badly abused cats. How could anyone be so vicious to have done that? They were only cats! I saw a few broken glass bottles and a long tree branch stained with dried blood. Those must be the weapons used on the poor cats. Deeply petrified, I reeled back. Pepper looked uneasy. She capered around me. My soul was momentarily jolted out of my skin. I stared at Pepper and tried to give her a comforting hug. I was badly in need of one too.

When I finally regained my composure, I made a call to S.P.C.A. (Society of Prevention of Cruelty towards Animals). I waited with Pepper for them to arrive. Pepper was quiet since. I stole a few more looks at the carcasses. All were tortured to death. One even had its bone jutting out from its limb. The officers finally arrived. I directed them to the spot. They asked me a few questions and I requested to leave the scene. I was too sick to stay there any longer.

That night, I did not sleep well. The gory images kept flashing in my mind. Pepper was restless too. I beckoned her to come to my bed. We snuggled together and I prayed that the cats would rest in peace. Shortly, we both fell asleep.

Writing Tip - Name your main characters

Remember to name the main characters in your composition. This makes your composition more readable.

Compare the 2 texts below. Which one is better?

Text 1:

I have always found my younger brother pesky. Sometimes, I just wish I can turn him into dust or vapour. It was only last Saturday that I realized how my younger brother is to me.

We were at Harbourfront City for the Singapore Youth Festival Arts Exhibition. My younger brother's artwork was awarded Gold. So proud was my younger brother that he kept pestering me to take him to the exhibition. To silence him, I reluctantly gave in.

The gallery was thronged with parents and their children. For fear that my younger brother might be separated from me, I held his hand, much to his dislike.

Text 2:

I have always found Alvin pesky. Sometimes, I just wish I can turn him into dust or vapour. It was only last Saturday that I realized how dear this younger brother is to me.

We were at Harbourfront City for the Singapore Youth Festival Arts Exhibition. Alvin’s artwork was awarded Gold. So proud was he that he kept pestering me to take him to the exhibition. To silence him, I reluctantly gave in.

The gallery was thronged with parents and their children. For fear that Alvin might be separated from me, I held his hand, much to his dislike.

Continuous Writing – Separated in an exhibition

One day, you went to an exhibition with your younger brother. There were many people at the exhibition. You were looking at the exhibits and did not notice your younger brother walking away from you.

I have always found Alvin pesky. Sometimes, I just wish I can turn him into dust or vapour. It was only last Saturday that I realized how dear this younger brother is to me.

We were at Harbourfront City for the Singapore Youth Festival Arts Exhibition. Alvin’s artwork was awarded Gold. So proud was he that he kept pestering me to take him to the exhibition. To silence him, I reluctantly gave in.

The gallery was thronged with parents and their children. For fear that Alvin might be separated from me, I held his hand, much to his dislike.

He was eager to find where his work was exhibited. We weaved in and out of the crowd to the Primary School’s section. Frustration built inside me. Unlike Alvin who took great delight in drawing and painting, I showed zero interest in either of them. Going to the exhibition was more of a chore than an outing.

“It’s over there! I can see it!” Alvin said, jumping in thrill.

I shrugged my shoulders and let him lead the way reluctantly.

Finally at the less crowded Primary School’s section, I loosened my grip on his hand. He immediately burst off to admire his own masterpiece, a painting depicting world peace. I followed behind him, still feeling grouchy.

“What do you think?” he asked for my opinion.

“I don’t think you know much about world peace. You can’t even give me a moment of peace,” I answered in sarcasm.

Not at all affected by my comments, he went on to view other exhibits in the same gallery. I looked at some of the exhibits with little interest.

When I was done with the Primary School’s section, I scanned around for Alvin. He was nowhere in sight. I was not the slightest worried. He could be somewhere near but out of my view. I walked on, tipping my toe and craning my neck to spot this irritating brother of mine.

Ten minutes passed. There was no sign of him.

“Where could he go?” I mumbled softly, anxiety slowly seeping into my bones.

I circled within the gallery a few times to make sure I did not miss him. Venturing into the Secondary School’s section, I despaired at the larger crowd. I jostled through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alvin but to no avail.

Anxiety mingled with anger, I combed the section. There was no Alvin.

Another ten minutes ticked by. My anger was overtaken by pure panic, crumbling my composure little by little. I did not like to entertain the thought of going to the information counter to request for an announcement to look for my lost brother but was left with little choice.

I strode to the information counter. In the distance, I saw a familiar figure gesticulating wildly at the receptionist. Never felt so relieved in my life, I picked up my pace. As you might have guessed corectly, that familiar figure belonged to Alvin.

“Hey! I have been going around hunting for you! Where were you?” he shouted at me, his voice trembling a little.

“What do you think I was doing? I was searching high and low for you!” I answered, seething with fury.

We glowered into each others’ eyes but not for long. We burst into laughter of relief of our reunion. I took his hand and we went back to the gallery together. This time, we held not only our hands fast but also our hearts .

Continuous Writing (Picture) – An Unattended Bag in a Mall

Jamie and Joy, were at Hougang Mall to have lunch with their mother. Since they were early, they decided to do some window-shopping.

The mall was not crowded that afternoon. They almost had the whole basement to themselves. Jamie and Joy strolled past a cake shop and a fashion shop for their favourite shop, Poh Kim, to browse at the latest DVDs.

"Come on, Joy. We have another ten minutes to spare before meeting up with Mum. Let's go Poh Kim to see if we can find what we want," proposed Jamie, an avid fan of action-packed movies.

"Yes! We should!" Joy's eyes sparkled in excitement at her sister's suggestion.

On their way, Joy suddenly stopped in her tracks. She turned to her sister. Pointing a finger to a huge potted plant, she remarked, "Do you see what I see?"

Jamie took a few steps towards the plant and caught sight of a duffel bag. Well concealed behind the plant, the plain beige bag was not at all noticeable. It however, did not escape Joy's sharp eyes.

Images of the video clip on terrorists' threats played in their minds. They had read about how terrorists had planted bombs in harmless-looking bags in the papers. They were also cautioned by teachers not to take unattended suspicious-looking bags lightly.

"What should we do?" Joy asked her sister, her voice quivered a little.

Jamie's brow furrowed in thought. “Let's inform the security," she answered Joy after a moment of deliberation.

It was not too difficult for the girls to find Mr Vijay for they were so familiar with the mall. Mr Vijay was spotted near the entrance of the mall where he usually was. The girls informed him of their discovery. Looking serious, Mr Vijay followed the girls to the basement. He radioed his colleague with his walkie talkie about the incident on the way.

When they arrived at the spot, Mr Vijay gestured to the girls to keep a distance while he advanced towards the bag. He stood, towering over the bag, and stared at the bag intently. Slowly, he stooped down before the bag.

Jamie and Joy watched with bated breath. Who had left this bag there? Was there a motive or was it plain carelessness? Would they be expecting some action-packed scenes like those in Bruce Willis’ Die Hard movies? So many questions raced through their minds. So many questions but no answers.

Mr Vijay reached his hand gingerly to unzip the bag. The girls literally held their breath for that moment in anticipation. As the bag was unzipped enough to reveal its content, Mr Vijay lowered his head. He turned around, expressionless.

The girls' hearts beat harder and faster. Their palms grew cold and clammy.

My Vijay turned his attention back to the bag. This time, he dug his hand in and rummaged through the inside. Joy was all ready to let out a scream as she saw Mr Vijay pulling out something.

Out from the bag was what they girls least expected. It was not a bomb, much to their relief laced with a tinge of disappointment.

It was only an empty Columbia water bottle!

Though they understood the grave consequences of stumbling on a bomb, they could not help longing for those exciting actions in the movies to come into real life.

Mr Vijay brandished it and smiled at the girls. The girls smiled back sheepishly.

Mr Vijay’s colleague arrived. Mr Vijay showed him the water bottle. He picked up the bag and told the girls that he would place the bag at the Lost and Found counter.

Joy and Jamie took their leave to meet up with their mother.

"You and your obsession with action-packed movies!" the mother chided, "but then again, girls, what you did is right. It is better to be safe than sorry. I am glad it is only a water bottle."

The girls grinned. "Let's go for lunch now! I'm famished," Joy said.

Continuous Writing - It was a quiet afternoon. You were doing your homework when ...

It was a quiet afternoon. You were doing your homework when a loud scream pierced the silence. You froze for a few seconds.

The ceiling fan whirred on in a drone, buffeting the curtains. The afternoons were usually quiet and peaceful for no one would be at home. I was concentrating hard on doing my homework. Scribbling furiously the answer to the last question of my Science worksheet, I was ready to take a breather before I planned to go on to a Grammar Exercise.

As I finished off the last word, an ear-splitting scream shattered the silence. I was jolted out of my skin. The scream was high-pitched and obviously laced with terror. I was quite certain it came from the corridor. Shaken, my heart went hammering wildly and my breathing turned shallow and rapid. Curiosity mingled with fear, I decided to find out who the scream belonged to.

I went to my door and peeped out through the window. What I witnessed sent shivers down my spine. I gasped but immediately cupped my mouth with both hands. My neighbour, Miss Lim, was in danger. A fierce-looking man was holding a knife against her nape, threatening to slit if she refused to surrender her handbag. Miss Lim’s face was ashen white. She could feel the sharp point of the knife but I wondered why she was still clutching the handbag so tightly to her chest.

Realising that I had wasted some precious time standing at the window, I quickly picked up the phone and dialed for the police. I hastily gave some description and hung up the phone. Meanwhile, while praying for Miss Tan's safety, I continued spying on the robbery which was taking place under my nose. Would the police arrive in time to nab the crook?

Behind my curtains, I saw the robber mumbling some words to Miss Tan. The next moment, Miss Tan loosened her grip to her handbag reluctantly. “Oh no, please come quickly. He’s going to flee once he’s got what he wants,” I muttered with bated breath. To my utmost relief, I heard footsteps tramping along the corridor. “Yes! They made it in time!”

On hearing that, the robber took to his heels with the fear-stricken Miss Tan’s handbag. The police officers sprang into action and went into hot pursuit of the fleeing crook. I dashed out of my house to console Miss Tan who was still trembling. I assured her that she would get her handbag back soon. True enough, in a matter of less than ten minutes, two police officers returned with the culprit handcuffed. They asked Miss Tan a few questions and returned her her handbag. She took it but was still too shocked to say anything. I thanked the police officers and escorted Miss Tan home.

Miss Tan slowly regained her composure. I politely took my leave. I did not expect I had taken such a long ‘break’ before doing my Grammar Exercise!

Continuous Writing (Picture) - An accident at the Food Centre

It was lunch hour. The hawker centre was packed with people from all walks of life. I had been circling around for ten minutes in vain to find a seat. To my delight, I caught sight of a table of patrons taking their leave. Hurriedly, I weaved my way to the table for fear that others might spot the seat and take the seat before I reached there.

I walked past a dessert stall and a chicken rice stall. I settled down comfortably on the table in front of a stall that sold fried kway teow. "Hmm, what should I eat?" I wondered. Gulping down the first mouthful of iced longan from the dessert stall, I relished the cooling sensation as it made its way down to my stomach. My thirst was quenched but my rumbling stomach was still protesting in hunger.

The roast chicken seemed to be beckoning at me invitingly. That should be it! "Aunty, a plate of chicken rice, please," I shouted over the noise to place my order.

I took my seat again and waited. From a distance, my eyes set upon a scrawny lady. Her skin was unusually sallow and her face was haggard for her age. In her hands were two bagfuls of what seemed like groceries. With her neck craned to look for either someone or a seat, she looked even more gaunt. Just a gust of wind could blow her away!

Since I was the only person at the table, I raised my hand to get her attention. Our eyes met and her tired-looking face smiled a thankful smile. She struggled with her two heavy bags towards my direction. I was about to rise to my feet to give her a helping hand when she suddenly slipped on something on the greasy floor. Failing to keep her balance, her things were hurled in the air before they were scattered on the floor. A thump ensued quickly. She fell, her nose flat on the floor!

Many around were shocked at the sight. But it happened too fast for anyone to stop her from falling. There were some gasps and muttering from the other patrons. I walked towards the damsel in distress. Her body was motionless. Grabbing her by the shoulders, I turned her around. Her face was writhing in great pain. I was puzzled. How could the pain from a fall be so excruciating? Besides the impact from the fall, she must be enduring other physical pain. What could it be?

"Are you all right, Miss?" I asked while trying to help her up. Some kind-hearted people had by then helped to pick up her stuff. A grateful look and a weak smile were all she could manage.

"Let me help you order your food. What do you like to have?" I offered.

She gazed at the plate of chicken rice which I ordered. "Got it, you can have this first while I go and order another plate for myself," I said.

As I made my way to the chicken rice stall, my view rested upon a patch of something at the spot where the lady had slipped. Upon a closer peek, I saw a piece of chicken skin lying innocuously on the floor. "So this is the culprit!" I muttered under my breath. I picked it up and dumped it into a bin before the next victim arrived.

When I returned, I saw two crumpled two-dollar notes tucked neatly under the empty plate. The lady was no more in sight. Though I did not have the chance to tell her to take good care of herself, I wished she would be more healthy-looking if I were to bump into her again.

Picture will be uploaded later...

Continuous Writing - As you were walking home from school...

As you were walking home from school, a small child approached you. The child was crying.

Trudging on the well-trodden path on my way home from school last Wednesday, I felt someone tugging at my sleeve from behind. I swiveled my neck to see a tear-streaked girl. She looked pathetically helpless. Immediately, I bent down to her level. Her doleful eyes seized my heart. I felt so sorry for Tanya, whom I found out later, was her name.

One hand resting on her shoulder, I asked in concern, "Why are you crying, little girl?"

She sobbed even harder. Wiping her tears away, she answered in between sobs that she had wandered away from her mother and had lost her way.

My heart melted. I could imagine her anxiety and fear, all alone, feeling insecure. I could remember vividly how I cried my heart out when I lost my parents in a crowd years ago when I was about the age of this girl. She was a lot braver and more intelligent than me. All I did was to whine and wail without knowing how to seek help.

"Don't worry, little girl. I will help you find your dad and mum," I consoled her in the most soothing tone I could manage.

"Thank you...," she muttered unclearly through her sobs.

I held her tiny hand. Along the way, the little girl was still crying. I braved myself to keep myself composed. Thoughts swirling through my mind, I rummaged my brain for a solution. I reckoned the most logical thing to do was to first inform my mother that I would be reaching home late.

I fished out my mobile phone from my pocket and did a quick dial on the keypad. I hastily told my mum about my encounter and hung up the phone. It was then that I noticed that the little girl had stopped in her tracks, refusing to take another step.

Her eyes shifted from my face to my phone which she gazed hard and intently upon. Puzzled, I wondered why the strong interest she had in my old-fashioned phone that I was so ashamed of.

"Can you lend me your phone? I can call my mother with that," she requested politely.

I was cursing my own stupidity when I watched the little girl jab on the buttons with great ease and deft. "What a clever girl!" I thought in my mind, "Why didn't I think of that?"

She returned me the phone after a short and clear conversation with the recipient on the other end of the line. Her expression took a drastic change. For the first time, she donned a smile.

"My mum said that she would greatly appreciate if you could take me the entrance of Tampines MRT Station. She said she will be there in ten minutes," the precocious girl said coherently.

This time, she snaked her little fingers into my hand and urged me to lead her to her destination. I gladly obliged. As we neared the MRT station, she slid her hands off my hands and dashed to a lady who was waving at her. "Tanya, mum is here!" she cried out.

She ran into her mum's open arms and turned around with a bright smile to wave a thank you wave. I waved back and mumbled sheepishly to myself, "Thank you for helping me to help you, Tanya. Hope to see you again!"

Continuous Writing - A Blackout

I was watching my favourite programme on television when I heard a loud knock on the door. As I walked to the door, there was a power failure and my house was in total darkness.

No one was at home. The volume of the television was tuned to the maximum. I was watching my favourite television programme, "The American Idol". The singer had just ended his rendition and my favourite part of the show, the judges' comments, was coming up next.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" Someone was rattling hard at the door. I was irritated. "Why must you choose to come at this hour?!" I cursed. Reluctantly, I stood up and walked to the door, my eyes still glued to the TV screen.

As I was on the way to the door, the TV screen became fuzzy and the lights in the house flickered. I thought I heard something snap and an uproar from the neighbourhood. The next moment, my house was plunged into total darkness. There was a blackout!

Blackness enveloped the whole house. I could not see a thing but a cloak of darkness before my eyes. Groping my way to the door, I almost tripped over a toy car left on the floor. Luckily, I managed to regain my balance in time.

"Who's that?" I asked as I looked out of the window. A rare sight greeted me. Never had I seen the whole neighbourhood bathed in such gloom. Some households already had their candles lit up. I craned my head and asked again, "Who's that?"

To my surprise, I saw the silhouette of my best friend, Harry. "Harry! What brought you here?" I opened the door and let him in. He did not answer me. That was strange. Harry was usually chirpy and bubbly. He was never quiet. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I was shocked to see a tear-streaked Harry.

"What happened, Harry? Were you crying?” I asked, concerned.

"My computer crashed and all my efforts in the Social Studies project have gone down the drain. I don't think I have enough time to re-do. The deadline is tomorrow," Harry blurted, stopping only twice to catch his breath.

"Oh dear! Do you think you should explain to Ms Lim and ask her to extend the deadline? I am sure she will understand,” I suggested.

Holding his head in his hands, Harry looked helpless. I wanted very much to help him but there was nothing I could do as there was a power failure. Thinking hard, I suddenly had the most brilliant idea in the world.

"Harry!!" my eyes glinted in excitement. "You don't have to use the computer to do this project. Don't you think a hand-written piece of work cannot be more appropriate for this topic, "Power Supply in Singapore"?"

My words struck Harry like a bolt of lightning. He perked up and requested for paper and pen. I delightfully offered him. In the candlelight flame, I watched him work on his project with gusto and pride. He whistled a breath of relief after his last line. It was almost midnight.

"Thank you, pal, for the suggestion! I won't be able to hand in my work on time if not for you," he gave me a pat on my shoulder. I grinned.

As we were packing up, a loud roar of cheers filled the air. The lights flickered back to life. The day ended perfectly well with the electricity restored and our friendship strengthened.

Continuous Writing - It was recess. I was walking towards the staffroom...

It was recess. I was walking towards the staffroom to see my teacher. Before I reached the staffroom, I heard someone sobbing.

I trudged listlessly along the corridor. Ms Lim, my form teacher, had summoned to see me during recess.

"See me at recess later," Ms Lim's words reverberated in my ears. Her cold and stern stares behind her black-rimmed glasses and devilish red lips sent shudders into my bones.

My heart hammered in trepidation but I was prepared to receive the worst from her. The last time I had to see her during recess was merely two Fridays ago. She blared into my ears, admonishing me throughout the twenty minutes. I swore that even those from the next block could hear her. I wondered what I did wrong this time. Since the shelling, I had been doing my work conscientiously. Not that I wanted to, but I had to for fear of another round of dressing down from her.

From a distance, I saw the daunting doors with the words "STAFFROOM". I took a deep breath and balled my hands into fists. As I neared the entrance, something caught my attention. Someone was sobbing. Curious, I stopped in my tracks. I strained my ears to locate the source of the sobbing, my eyes scanning vigilantly at the same time.

The sobbing was intermittent, alternating between quick bouts of sniffing and soft cries. The poor soul must be terribly upset. I strained my ears harder and looked around again. My eyes stopped at a point. Behind the potted bougainvillea at the end of the corridor was a little crouching figure.

Stirred by a compelling sense to help, I advanced like a knight towards the damsel in distress. I lay my hand gently on her shoulder. She raised her head with a start. My heart melted in sympathy as I was greeted by a tear-stricken face.

Noting the embroidered name tag, I asked with concern, "What's the matter, Veron? Why are you crying?"

She opened her mouth in an attempt to answer me but could not manage anything intelligible through her sobs. I rubbed her back soothingly, the way my mother did to me when I was younger. She wiped away the fat drops of tears which could not stop rolling down her cheeks.

"Is there anything you want me to help you?" I asked, offering her a piece of tissue paper. Again, she tried to tell me something. But this time, as soon as the words were at her lips, she swallowed them all again. Losing my patience a little, I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes,

"Tell me what happened, please. I am running out of time. I have to see my teacher before the bell rings."

Frightened by my tone, she buried her head into her knees with her arms wrapped her arms around them. I was in despair and almost wanted to abandon her when I noticed a puddle beneath her. Her skirt was damp.

"Come with me, Veron. I'll get you changed," I patted on her head, my tone much gentler this time.

Obediently, she stood up. I held her hand and we went into the staffroom, to request for a set of dry clothing for Veron before I proceeded to see Ms Lin. I wondered what Ms Lin had in store for me…

Continuous Writing - Babysitting

You had been asked to look after your aunt's two-year-old child. There was no one else in the house. While you were playing with your cousin, your friend called. You were on the telephone conversation when you realized that your cousin was unusually quiet. You ended the conversation to investigate.

Last Saturday, Aunt Serene had to attend a last-minute urgent meeting and had no one to baby-sit Simone, my two-year-old cousin. I was both glad and proud that the first person that came to her mind was me.

"Her next feeding time is 3. Don't let her go to the kitchen. The floor is greasy. I'll be home as soon as the meeting is over," Aunt Serene rattled a string of instructions for me.

"I know, Aunt Serene. Don't worry. Simone is in good hands," I assured her, carrying the 22-pounder in my hands.

"Thanks so much, Molly. I'm so grateful you are here. Good bye Simone. Mummy will be home in a jiffy," Aunt Serene babbled and planted a kiss on Simone's forehead affectionately.

I took Simone into the playroom to play building blocks, her favourite activity. You should look at her. She could stack up the blocks to her height, a feat for her age. She cooed and uttered her language for every block she placed. Once the tower was built, she playfully removed the bottommost block to topple the tower. I could not help but chuckle with her. She was such a darling!

As we gathered the strewn blocks to rebuild the tower, my cell phone rang. My eyes widened in delight when I saw Martha, my best friend's name flashing on the screen of my phone.

"Yo, pal," I answered the phone.

I could hear Martha squealing in excitement in a noisy background. Seeing that Simone was engaged in her play, I walked out to the living room which was quieter. For the next 30 minutes which seemed only seconds to me, Martha went ranting and raving on her close encounter with our idol, JJ Lim.

Just as I grew so green in envy, I realized that I had totally forgotten about Simone for she was exceptionally quiet. No chuckling, no cooing and no knocking sound of collapsing tower! I ended my conversation abruptly and flung my phone to the sofa.

I stuck my head into the bedroom to see a neatly-built tower with Simone nowhere in sight. Feeling a lump in my throat, I searched the master-bedroom. She was not there either. "Simone, where are you? Come out," I called out, my voice quivering.

My stomach constricted in anxiety and the nausea rose to my chest. My hammering heart was almost ripping me apart, crumbling me little by little. I hastened to the kitchen, hoping against hope that I could spot Simone. "Simone, are you hiding in the kitchen? I'm coming to get you," I called out again.

As I approached the kitchen, a loud crash broke the silence. A loud bawl was heard in quick succession. It was Simone! She was in the kitchen! Quickening into a run, I dashed to the kitchen to see a wailing Simone with glass shards scattered on the floor.

Inching carefully forward to reach Simone, I felt the grease under my feet and Aunt Serene's words came reverberating in my ears. "Don't let her go to the kitchen. The floor is greasy."


Strangled with guilt, I scooped up Simone whose wailing was reduced to hard sobs. I placed her within my sight away from the kitchen and cleared the mess.

"Thank goodness Simone was not cut," I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I returned to my badly shaken cousin and cuddled her lovingly. She finally broke into a smile when I offered her some water. It then dawned on me that she had gone to the kitchen to get something to quench her thirst.

I would never forgive myself if she was cut due to my negligence. No more talking on the phone while babysitting, I vouched.

Continuous Writing (Picture) - Slipped on a banana peel

Gary was on his way home from the provision shop. His mother had sent him to buy some daily essentials. He added bananas, his favourite fruit, to the shopping list. Whistling a happy tune, he trotted on the pavement, flicking banana peels along the way.

His act was one that many would frown upon. To Gary, he did not really think much about littering. After all, there was no trash can in sight. He was munching on what might be his fifth banana for the day when suddenly, he heard a loud thud behind him.

Curious, he swiveled his neck and saw the grave consequence of his inconsiderate deed. An old woman had slipped on a banana peel, groaning in pain. It was only then that a strong wave of regrets swept through Gary. He knew he was in hot soup for causing the infamously unreasonable woman in the neighbourhood to fall.

"Oh my god! Why must it be her?" Gary muttered under his breath, his heart in his mouth.

He knew he would get into hotter soup if he fled because Ah Soh knew him by his name. Apprehensively, he approached Ah Soh who was gritting her teeth in agony. If the fall was not that hard, Ah Soh's vicious cursing and swearing would have been hurled incessantly in the air.



Ah Soh's face winced in excruciating pain. The impact of the fall seemed too great for her minute build to take.

"Are... are you... you... ok?" Gary stuttered, stretching his trembling hand to pat on Ah Soh's shoulder.

Ah Soh looked up. Gary was startled by her ashen white face. Gary was at a loss. He felt guilty, terribly guilty. He was paralysed to the spot and did not know what to do next.

Much to his relief, a passer-by who saw their plight came to the rescue. Gary briefly explained what had happened. The kind passer-by examined Ah Soh. Finding no open wounds or bruises, he gingerly lifted Ah Soh up from the ground.

"Do you think you can walk?" the kind soul asked. Ah Soh only managed a nod.

"Little Boy, let me take care of Ah Soh. You do the necessary here," he said in a voice so gentle yet commanding. Gary watched the duo receding in the distance. Quickly, he traced back his path and picked up all the banana peels. It dawned on him that though it was true there was no trash can in sight, it did not give him the right to litter. It was naïve of him to think little of his behaviour.

After putting in all the peels in a plastic bag, Gary walked home with a heavy heart. How he wished he could turn back time to undo his actions!



Picture to be uploaded later...

Continuous Writing (Picture) - A Road Accident

The T-junction that I drove past every day to work along Shenton Way was in pandemonium. Traffic was busy as usual and the vehicles on the road slowed to a crawl. Though accustomed to the traffic condition, my frustrations could not help but built up when a yellow-top taxi inconsiderately filtered into my lane without giving any signal. I cursed under my breath, utterly disgusted.

The impatient taxi-driver repeated his weaving in and out 'stunt' a couple of times. Some motorists honked angrily but other than contributing to noise pollution, what could they do to this errant cabbie?

I stepped lightly on my accelerator, moving my Honda Jazz forward by a hairline. It was taking me a lifetime to get to my office. I heaved a hefty sigh and looked out of my window. Nearing a cross junction, that pesky taxi-driver made a swift bend to beat the traffic light. A black Toyota Corolla, seeing the situation, screeched to a halt to avoid colliding with the taxi. Unfortunately, all these happened too fast. Even if the Toyota reacted at breakneck speed, it could not salvage the situation.

"Bang" The car rammed head-on into the flank of the taxi. "Damn!" I cursed, my heart skipping a beat.

The impact of the collision was so great that the windscreens of both the vehicles were shattered to smithereens, raining shards of glass to the road. The bonnet of the Toyota was completely smashed. The taxi bore the brunt of the accident. It was reduced to a wreck with the body completely crushed with the licence plate dangling. The misshaped bonnet was forced open and smoke was fuming out of the engine.

Pedestrians gathered at the pavement, gawking in shock. Traffic slowed down further and almost came to a standstill. There was a sudden burst of commotion when the door of the Toyota opened slowly with the driver wrestling his way out. Once out of the car, he lay flat on the road, his face writhing in excruciating pain. To my surprise, the taxi-driver, escaped this accident unscathed. He sat next to his wreckage and was in a daze. Luckily, there were no passengers.

The cries of the ambulance tore through the air. Traffic police arrived to direct the traffic away from the accident scene. Paramedics sprang into action. The taxi-driver was lifted up and walked by a medical attendant to the ambulance. After cleaning the wound on the forehead, the Toyota driver was wheeled into the ambulance and whisked to the hospital. The police arrived shortly. The vehicles were towed away and order was restored. The crowd of onlookers dispersed.

I drove with a heavy heart to my office. The scene replayed in my mind over and over again. I was thankful the victim was not me. I was also angry with the reckless taxi-driver for endangering the lives of other road users. I hoped he would repent and learn from this accident. Would his conscience be clear if the driver could not survive the accident?

I walked into my boss' office to request for a 2-hour time-off. He probably could sense my shaken composure and readily agreed without a question.



Picture will be uploaded later...

Continuous Writing - You and your classmates were at the school field...

You and your classmates were at the school field playing soccer when all of you heard someone screaming for help.

I strode towards the football. Dennis had done a perfect pass. I dribbled it deftly towards the goal post, weaving through Samuel's interception successfully. About two metres away from the goal post, I took aim and gave a kick. The ball lobbed in the air, surpassing Ali's attempt to block it. The next few seconds seemed to come a standstill. I watched in anticipation, muttering "In, in, in!" under my breath.

As the ball was finding its way into the net, ready to give it a bulge, a scream laced with agony startled everyone at the school field. We stopped in our tracks and swiveled our necks to where the scream came from. All our eyes were fixed on the dustbin at the gate of the field, with two lower primary boys towering over a girl seated on the ground.

Curiosity got the better of us. We sprinted towards the trio. As we neared them, we heard soft cries, pitiful and helpless ones. It was the girl. She must be in great pain. We approached them and spotted specks of fresh blood spattered on the ground.

"What happened?" Samuel, our class monitor, who was also the school head-prefect, asked in concern. I stooped down to take a closer look at the girl's wounded knee. Ali quavered at the sight. Her top skin peeled, half of it dangling loosely. Blood oozed copiously from the laceration, staining her white socks and shoes.

"Joe pushed Sharon down and she fell on the broken glass," the bespectacled boy explained, his finger pointing at his friend whose face was filled with nothing but guilt and fear.

Our eyes fell on John. His face went red. He wanted to open his mouth but could only utter, "I..."


Sharon was still crying though her cries got softer. Dennis had returned from the general office to get a first-aid kit. He gingerly cleaned the wound and wiped away the blood. Sharon twitched whenever Samuel dabbed on the cut. I was impressed with her high threshold for pain. I would have yelled and struggled if I were in her position.

"Why did you push her?"Samuel asked, his stern eyes emitting authority so overpowering even the others and I shuddered.

"I... I... I..." John stuttered, loss for words. "I did not do it on purpose," he continued sheepishly in a shaky voice. "I was not looking and did not see her," he mustered the remains of his courage to answer his head-prefect's question.

"Are you sure it was an accident?" Samuel refused to take what he said so readily. "I did not do it on purpose. I swear. I really did not see her. I was walking and looking at the goal he was about to score," John turned to look at me, his voice calmer this time.

"It's true. He did not do it purposely," the bespectacled boy spoke up.

Samuel shot me a quick wink, unnoticeable to the three little ones. "Ok, I trust you. But you still have to apologise to Sharon for causing her so much pain."


John meekly walked towards Sharon and mumbled, "Sorry, I did not push you down purposely. Are you all right?"


Sharon nodded. I guessed the pain on her knee was alleviated under Dennis' careful treatment. Ali and John hoisted her up and took her to the general office. We left after the clerk had informed her parents. Before leaving, John looked at me and said, "That was a beautiful shot." I smiled and gave him a pat.

We went back to the field to get our ball which was sitting nicely in the goal post. My eyes sparkled in triumph and I exclaimed to Samuel, "It was a goal! You lost this game."

Continuous Writing - Bully

You were on your way home from school one afternoon. You witnessed your neighbour, David, beaten by a group of older boys.

I was on my way home from school after a long day. The rays were beating down hard and I was soaked to my skin in my own perspiration. At the traffic light junction, I waited impatiently for the green man to appear. The sweltering heat was unbearable. I could not wait to get into my air-conditioned room.

Delighted to see the red man giving way to the green man, I crossed the road. My house was only five minutes away after a few more blocks of flats. Just as I was reaching my void deck, I heard desperate cries of pleading and help. The cries were followed by a barrage of fierce threats and heavy groans of pain. I sensed something amiss. Someone was in pain and needed help urgently.

I crept silently towards the commotion. Hiding behind a wall, I stealthily stuck my head out to steal a look. My mouth went wide agape at the sight. Covering my mouth to stop a scream from escaping, I witnessed the scene in terror. A group of older boys were bashing up David, my neighbour.

Curled in a ball, David winced in excruciating pain. The brutal kicks and punches rained on him, one after another. "Ple…ase… st…op…, I am… not… Ste…ven…," David whimpered. He stretched out his right arm to shield the beatings. His left hand clutched tightly on his stomach. A drop of blood trickled down from his right eye.

"You still dare to deny?? What big guts you have!!" the biggest boy roared in fury, his flailing arms never stopped sending his fists on David. I flinched in fright and rage. Hands balled into fists, I mustered my courage and stepped out from the wall.

I gathered all the voice I could find from within and yelled, "Police! Police!" The big boys froze for a split second and took to their heels. They disappeared in less than five seconds. I ran towards David. His eyes were filled with gratitude. I hoisted him up with great difficulty. He was feeble from the beatings. Grabbing him by his arms, we staggered to his house. Panting heavily, David struggled through his every step. Neither of us uttered a single word.

At his doorstep, his gait got slightly stronger. He inserted the key shakily and unlocked the door. We parted after he had given me an assuring look that he was fine. I looked at the bruises and cuts he sustained. Knowing David's strong character, I was certain he was able to take care of himself. I gave him a pat on his shoulder and took my leave.

On my way home, the fighting scene remained vivid on my mind. I shuddered. I really hoped that the boys would stop harassing David.

Continuous Writing - You were reading a book when...

You were reading a book in your room when you heard your mother shout, “Come downstairs, everyone!”

The afternoon was quiet. I was deeply engrossed in the book I was reading. Roald Dahl is one of my favourite writers. He never failed to hold my interest with all his books. Page after page, the story grew more and more exciting. I held the book even tighter and my eyes glued nearer as I approached the climax. Before turning over to the next page, the silence in the air was shattered by my mother's deafening shout.

"Come downstairs, everyone!" my mother shouted at the top of her voice. I bolted upright. Detecting the anger in my mother's voice, I woke up Sandy, my younger sister, from her sleep.

"Wake up, Sandy! Mum wants us downstairs now!" I shook her shoulders gently. She roused and pried open her eyelids slowly. I held her hand and led her downstairs to the living room.

Mum was standing with arms akimbo at the sofa where the cordless phone was lying innocuously. The rise and fall from her chest was obvious even at a distance away. Something real serious must have triggered her fury. Could it be related to a phone call? It was not usual for Mum to lose her temper.

Sandy and I turned to look at each other. Confusion and fear were written on Sandy's face. I was certain mine did not differ much. I squeezed her hand a little and we walked hesitantly towards her.

"Steven, what a shame you have been!" Mum screeched, glowering sparks at me.

Puzzled, I wanted to ask why but decided to shut my mouth. It was unwise to talk back when she was in such a rage.

"Mr Khamil told me all about it. You better tell me the truth before I rain whips on you!" Mum shrieked with her voice shaking. I almost jumped upon hearing Mr Khamil's name.

I knew I was going to be in hot soup. I hung my head low, occasionally stealing glances at Mum. She was still breathing heavily with her fists tightly clenched.

For what seemed like ages, the house fell into dead silence. I stood like a statue, not moving a single muscle. Totally engulfed in guilt and fear, I did not dare utter a word. Mum was waiting. I searched for my voice and courage but to no avail. She was still waiting.

Finally, I mustered enough courage to look up. I was taken aback. The fury on her face had given way to disappointment. Mum was weeping, shedding tears of disappointment. I was more guilty than ever. I had hurt Mum, my dearest Mum. How could I?

"Mum, I won't do it again!" I promised in remorse. "Trust me!" I pleaded softly.

Mum looked away from me. She took Sandy from my hand and told her, "Sandy, I want you to remember this. Never, never think that you can get away from any misdeeds. It is totally foolish and irresponsible!" With that, she took her upstairs, leaving me behind.

The afternoon was quiet again.

Continuous Writing - A Phone Call

You were about to take a shower when the phone rang. In an urgent voice, the caller asked you to meet him/her in the neighbourhood park immediately. You rushed to the park.

The ringing shattered the silence. I cursed as I doubled back from the shower room to answer the phone. Draping my towel over my shoulder, I picked up the receiver.

“Val! Come to the park now! Quick!” The line went dead before I could ask why.

“What has happened? Why does she sound so urgent?” I thought, sensing something amiss from her anxious voice.

It was not my mother to call home at this hour. It must be something important enough for her to do this. I shelved my plan to shower and headed straight to the park as instructed.

Along the way, my pace grew faster and my strides longer. I started to pant a little. The park was just 500 metres away. But it seemed so far.

"What has happened? Why does she sound so urgent?" my mind was swirling with questions. I clenched my clammy palms and escalated into a run. I could not help bearing the thought that something awful had happened. After what seemed like ages, the entrance of the park came into sight. I craned my neck to look for my mother. Through the darkness, I saw a silhouette hobbling slowly towards my direction. It was my mother. I could tell from her slightly hunched back.

"Val! Over here!" my mother called out, with her hands gesticulating wildly. I hurried over. My mother was limping badly. As I neared her enough to see her clearly, I gasped in shock. On her left knee was an open wound with blood trickling down. Her calf was badly grazed too. My mother looked at her leg and used her right hand to rub away some grains of sand. It must be painful, real painful, for she twitched and flinched. I felt the pain in my heart too.

"That's the culprit," my mother explained, pointing to a pothole.

"Mum, let me piggyback you!" I lowered myself and bent down immediately. She seemed hesitant at first but eventually gave in to my firm stare. She struggled up clumsily my back. I jerked her in place and laboured the way home.

"Mum, why don't you quit your job? It's time you enjoy your life after so many years of toiling. After all, we are not short of money," I said, regretting that I did not tell her that earlier.

"We'll see about that," she sighed.

That was the only conversation we had on our way home. Till now, my mother still cuts across the park to get to work before dawn. My guilt never stops pricking my conscience but I just cannot find the courage to bring up the topic again.

Continuous Writing (Picture) - A Road Accident involving a dog.

Jane gasped in fear. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Lying limply before her was Bingo.

"Bingo! Bingo! Are you alright? Does it hurt?" Jane shrieked in between sobs. Anger mingled with anxiety, she watched in despair the black Toyota Corolla speeding away, leaving a trail of dust behind. She had taken Bingo, her 2-year-old Jack Russell out for his routine walk. As Bingo was very well-trained, Jane had never bothered to leash her. As usual, Bingo was yelping away in high spirits. She always enjoyed this part of the day which she could get out of the house.

Bingo lay feebly on the road, letting out whimpers in pain. Jane's heart ached at the sight of it. Her tears flowed unrestrainedly. Bingo was knocked down. Chasing after Jane, she had crossed the road with her, oblivious to the oncoming car. The speeding car rammed right into Bingo. Jane’s heart sank when she heard a bang. It was too late to stop the accident. The impact was so forceful that it hurled Bingo into the air before it fell on the ground with a thump. To her disgust, the car revved the engine hard and zoomed off.

Blood came oozing out profusely from a gash on his right foreleg. His fur was stained in his own blood. Jane stroked her dog gently. She applied pressure on the gash to stop the bleeding. She looked up. The car was no longer in sight. She was not in time to take note of the vehicle plate number.

"Bingo, hang on! You'll be fine!" Jane found her voice finally. She wiped her tears away and scooped Bingo up gingerly, careful not to hurt her further. Rapidly, she dashed all the way home. Along the way, Bingo was quiet, very quiet. It was still, very still too. Jane lay Bingo down on her cushion once she reached home. Bingo's eyes were closed. Her breathing was slow but regular. Jane cleaned the gash. Bingo flinched as Jane dabbed disinfectant on her wound.

"I know it hurts, Bingo. Bear with it," Jane comforted her pet. She dressed the wound and put Bingo to sleep. She then walked to the phone and called her father, "Daddy, Bingo is knocked down by a car. I have dressed her wound. Can you come home to check on her? I hope she has not sustained any internal injuries."

While she waited anxiously for her father, she looked lovingly at Bingo and whispered a silent a prayer for her. In ten minutes, the door flew open. In rushed her father with his working box – a medical kit. The longest wait in her life was over!

Picture will be uploaded later...

Continuous Writing (Picture)- Bee Attack

You and your best friend were cycling at the park. Your friend spotted a bee-hive.

I pedaled hard to catch up with Zelda. I wished I had the speed and stamina like hers. She was only about three metres ahead but it seemed impossible to gain on her. Gritting my teeth, my feet pushed harder, driving my bicycle nearer hers. Not many cyclists and joggers were at the park that fateful Saturday. We almost had the whole pavement to ourselves.

My best friend suggested a burst of ten loops. My jaw almost dropped but I sportingly took up the challenge. At the fourth lap, I was panting heavily like a dog. I looked up and saw Zelda's back receding in the distance.

"Come on, Dilys! Keep going!" I muttered to myself. I wiped away the fat drops of perspiration that trickled down from my forehead and looked ahead again. Zelda had slowed down. My golden opportunity to overtake her! I rode with all my might. Zelda had slowed down further. I pedaled faster. We got closer and closer to each other. Soon, we were side by side.

"Dilys, what do you think that is?" Zelda pointed her finger to a lamppost, her voice shaking. My eyes rested on a brownish, oval object that hung precariously from the top of the lamppost. Wrapping around the object was a grey mist. It did not take long for me to understand the reason of my best friend’s shaky voice. A wave of chills surged through my bones.

We turned to look at each other. Fear was written on Zelda's face. She may be an athlete, but she succumbs helplessly when it comes to insects, especially threatening ones like the bees above us. Glued to the spot, we watched with fear building up within us.

The beehive swayed in the breeze. My heart skipped a beat with every of its back and forth motion. It was pivoted more loosely than we first spotted it.

"Zelda, we have to get out of here before another gust of wind blew it down on us," I said, fighting to look calm.

"Okay," uttered Zelda, her brows furrowed in anxiety.

"Let's go!" I whispered, for fear that our voice would anger the bees.

At that moment, came a gust of wind strong enough to provoke the bees in the hive. A buzzing sound rose in a crescendo.

Panicked, both of us pedaled, unable to keep our balance at first. We steadied ourselves and focused on cycling without looking back, without uttering a word. We just pedaled, pedaled and pedaled. All we wanted was to shake off the angry swarm of bees which had gone on a fierce rampage behind us. We swatted them away with our hands.

My legs went from soft to rigid and from rigid back to soft. I had to go on cycling. Zelda was slightly ahead of me. She too, steeled herself to shake off the angry bees despite the stings she suffered.

After what seemed like cycling for miles and miles, the buzzing grew fainter and fainter. The bees had stopped chasing us. They had given up! We dared not stop our bikes immediately. We gave a few more pushes before giving in to exhaustion.

"The bees are gone! We won!" I said in between my huffing and puffing.

Zelda smiled. We pedaled home together, this time at a very, very comfortable pace.

(Picture will be uploaded later...)