Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Grade 11 Event Writing by Sat Amrit Kaur
The Grade 11 class was given an assignment to write about an event from their own lives. We were exploring the line between non-fiction and fiction when writing about autobiographical events. Here is one of the results from Sat Amrit Kaur:
The Hand
We were two eleven year olds, high on sugar and full of zing, chasing each other around the house, knocking books from their shelves and papers from their desks. We were truly a menace; scary and infuriating for any parent. The floor boards of the old house creaked and groaned, begging for us to end our shenanigans, but we wouldn't let an old house boss us around.
"Amrita!" we froze in trepidation, "Get ready for bed!" We knew it was over. Her mother's word was law. Amrita and I marched downstairs with our heads hung low. We dared not look up.
We were quiet and behaved until we reached the bathroom. Once the door was shut, our energy exploded. We weren't thinking straight, as can happen when a small body is filled with massive amounts of high fructose corn syrup, processed sugar and red number seven. We giggled and laughed uproariously for no apparent reason, making jokes that weren't funny unless you still watched Disney movies and listened to Teen Bop CDs.
The bathroom was most like any other bathroom in any other house. The floor was covered in blue tiles and a metal magazine rack sat next to the ceramic toilet. An image of a deer in a meadow was super imposed onto the old shower door and the bathtub in the corner was still filled with old bath water previously used by Amrita's little brother and sister. The lights were dim, casting a somewhat romantic glow over the entire room.
After a while of doing absolutely nothing, a loud knock on the door brought us back to our senses. We put on our swim suits and got in the shower. We tried to be more quiet, but our energy was still bouncing off the walls.
Amrita was the first to finish. She got out and grabbed a towel from a hook on the wall. I took the opportunity to tease her, knowing she wouldn't try to get me back for fear of getting wet. "Hey Amrita! I know who you like!" I said.
"Nuh-uh!" she said back.
"Yeah-huh! It's Guru Sandesh!" I laughed out loud. Victory was sweet.
Suddenly, the shower door was closed. "Take it back!" she yelled, "Take it back! I don't like him!"
For a moment, I was surprised, but it only took me a moment to regain my senses. I thought about it and decided that the best way to get the door open was to push it. "Alright, you asked for it!" I began the count down, "One! Twoooo! Three!!!" I swung my hands forward, hitting the glass, right as Amrita let go of the door.
We both stood for a moment, frozen. Shards of glass covered the floor and my hand was sticking through the door. We looked at each other and let out a nervous giggle. We knew we were going to be in a lot of trouble when her parents found out what happened.
As soon as Amrita looked down, the mood went from nervous to scared. Her face turned white and a look of terror was splayed across it. I looked down at my arm. I gasped and then I screamed. My wrist and the glass around it was covered in blood.
The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the bathroom staring down at my hand with tears streaming down my face. There were large gashes across my hand, but they were barely visible through the amount of blood gushing out of them.
"I'm going to get help," Amrita said frantically, reaching for the door. She disappeared and I was left alone. The room was spinning and I felt vomit rising from the pit of my stomach. I did the next thing that seemed most logical to me. I hobbled over to the bathtub and collapsed next to it. I stuck my hand in, trying to wash it. I looked the other way to keep myself from seeing how red the water was becoming.
I sat there for what seemed like hours, waiting for someone to come. I could feel my consciousness slipping away and everything became fuzzy. Soon, everything was dark and that’s how it stayed.
The Grade 11 class was given an assignment to write about an event from their own lives. We were exploring the line between non-fiction and fiction when writing about autobiographical events. Here is one of the results from Sat Amrit Kaur:
The Hand
We were two eleven year olds, high on sugar and full of zing, chasing each other around the house, knocking books from their shelves and papers from their desks. We were truly a menace; scary and infuriating for any parent. The floor boards of the old house creaked and groaned, begging for us to end our shenanigans, but we wouldn't let an old house boss us around.
"Amrita!" we froze in trepidation, "Get ready for bed!" We knew it was over. Her mother's word was law. Amrita and I marched downstairs with our heads hung low. We dared not look up.
We were quiet and behaved until we reached the bathroom. Once the door was shut, our energy exploded. We weren't thinking straight, as can happen when a small body is filled with massive amounts of high fructose corn syrup, processed sugar and red number seven. We giggled and laughed uproariously for no apparent reason, making jokes that weren't funny unless you still watched Disney movies and listened to Teen Bop CDs.
The bathroom was most like any other bathroom in any other house. The floor was covered in blue tiles and a metal magazine rack sat next to the ceramic toilet. An image of a deer in a meadow was super imposed onto the old shower door and the bathtub in the corner was still filled with old bath water previously used by Amrita's little brother and sister. The lights were dim, casting a somewhat romantic glow over the entire room.
After a while of doing absolutely nothing, a loud knock on the door brought us back to our senses. We put on our swim suits and got in the shower. We tried to be more quiet, but our energy was still bouncing off the walls.
Amrita was the first to finish. She got out and grabbed a towel from a hook on the wall. I took the opportunity to tease her, knowing she wouldn't try to get me back for fear of getting wet. "Hey Amrita! I know who you like!" I said.
"Nuh-uh!" she said back.
"Yeah-huh! It's Guru Sandesh!" I laughed out loud. Victory was sweet.
Suddenly, the shower door was closed. "Take it back!" she yelled, "Take it back! I don't like him!"
For a moment, I was surprised, but it only took me a moment to regain my senses. I thought about it and decided that the best way to get the door open was to push it. "Alright, you asked for it!" I began the count down, "One! Twoooo! Three!!!" I swung my hands forward, hitting the glass, right as Amrita let go of the door.
We both stood for a moment, frozen. Shards of glass covered the floor and my hand was sticking through the door. We looked at each other and let out a nervous giggle. We knew we were going to be in a lot of trouble when her parents found out what happened.
As soon as Amrita looked down, the mood went from nervous to scared. Her face turned white and a look of terror was splayed across it. I looked down at my arm. I gasped and then I screamed. My wrist and the glass around it was covered in blood.
The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the bathroom staring down at my hand with tears streaming down my face. There were large gashes across my hand, but they were barely visible through the amount of blood gushing out of them.
"I'm going to get help," Amrita said frantically, reaching for the door. She disappeared and I was left alone. The room was spinning and I felt vomit rising from the pit of my stomach. I did the next thing that seemed most logical to me. I hobbled over to the bathtub and collapsed next to it. I stuck my hand in, trying to wash it. I looked the other way to keep myself from seeing how red the water was becoming.
I sat there for what seemed like hours, waiting for someone to come. I could feel my consciousness slipping away and everything became fuzzy. Soon, everything was dark and that’s how it stayed.
# posted by MPA Student Work @ 12:20 AM 
