A model composition from ... ...

I looked around me. The walls around me were decorated with a pretty floral pattern, but there was a distinct smell of disinfectant in the atmosphere. I hated this place. The smell of it made me want to puke. I had been here countless of times but I just could not get used to it. I looked down at the familiar face lying on the white bed sheet. She was my best friend. Claire. An oxygen mask was covering her pale and sickly face. As I watched Claire sleep softly on the bed, how I wished that time could stand still. Claire’s parents were seated at the other end of the bed. They looked so exhausted and grief-stricken. As I looked out of the window, staring at the clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight, memories flooded back into my mind.

My parents were overjoyed when I was born. They had waited for ten long years before they had me. However, their joy was short-lived. They noticed that something was wrong with me. Whenever I cried, I would turn blue. My worried parents immediately brought me to the hospital. It was then, the doctor informed us of the bad news. My heart was badly deformed. A normal heart has four chambers, but mine had only two. The doctor pointed out that the only solution was surgery, provided I survived my first year, which was quite unlikely. Miraculously, I managed to live long enough to celebrate my first birthday. Then I had my first operation. The doctor could only solve one problem at a time and the fee was very high, but my parents were willing to do anything for me. Fortunately, the operation was a success and my parents managed to fork up enough money to pay for the hefty bill.

I am now ten years old but I have already undergone two surgeries. Because of my illness, my parents have spoiled me rotten and have given in to my every demand. In school, I have few or, well…no friends at all. It is all because of my bad temper and my willfulness. At that time, I badly wanted a friend, as I was very lonely, being the only child at home. It was then, that I met Claire. She was a transfer student from America. Claire was an outgoing, cheerful and no-nonsense type of girl. Furthermore, she was the first person to stand up to me and tick me off. At first, I was infuriated. But slowly, I got to understand and treasure her. We spent a lot of time together and had so much fun! We often went out together, and we practically went to each other’s house everyday! But then, another disaster struck. Recently, I have been having fainting spells very often. Besides that, I have been experiencing shortness of breath. Once again, I was brought to the hospital. The doctor delivered another piece of bad news. My heart was so swollen that even surgery could not solve the problem. The only option was to undergo a heart transplant. However, the waiting list was long, and the odds were against us. We were all stupefied by the dreadful news. I was devastated. I could feel my heart contracting painfully. I was so weary and overwrought that I burst into tears. My family was shattered by the news. I could see tears coursing down my parent’s cheeks. Their stricken faces reflected the grief they felt inside.

When we went home, I immediately phoned Claire and informed her of the appalling news. She instantly came down to my house. We cried together until there were no more tears to cry. Many things did not seem important anymore. From that day onwards, we spent all our free time together. Sometimes, we just talked. Those talks always led to tears. Everyone thought that nothing worse could happen. But then, everyone was proved wrong. The tragedy occurred.

It was a freak accident that should not have happened. That day was the last day I would ever see the lively Claire. That morning, Claire and I were taking a stroll in the park. As we were walking down the pathway, a bicycle came hurtling towards us. Out of the corner of Claire’s eye, she recognised the danger. Acting on instinct, Claire pushed me out of harm’s way. As I rolled towards the side of the road, Claire was knocked down by the bicycle and her head hit the concrete kerb. Claire was knocked unconscious. I sat up groggily, bruised but safe. I turned towards the scene and the sight of Claire’s bloodied head greeted me. I burst into tears. Onlookers came by to help and within minutes, both of us were on the way to the hospital. I contacted Claire’s parents and they came rushing to the hospital. The news that greeted them was bad. The doctor pointed out that Claire had suffered some brain damage and might not live past these few days. Fast forward to the present time.

Suddenly, the machine monitoring Claire’s heart went off. Claire’s parents were frantic. We heard footsteps running down the corridor. The doctor tried to save Claire, but to no avail. Then, the machine displayed a straight line and emitted a sharp beeping sound. The doctor shook his head and murmured, “I’m sorry.” It took a while before the truth sank in. Claire… was dead! I rushed out of the room and wept bitterly. Life was so unfair. I am the one who should be dead. Before long, Claire’s parents came out and told me that they wanted to donate Claire’s heart to me. I could not believe my ears! The next few hours went by in a blur. Tests were run and the doctors found out that the heart was a perfect match. I was pushed into the operating theater. Hours passed, and I was finally wheeled out. It was a success!

Now, I have a part of Claire in me. Thanks to Claire, I was given a new lease of life. She gave me a gift that I would never forget. Something that is more valuable than anything else in the world. A gift of life.


Teng Siao Shuen (6B)

Comments:
For those of you who know SS, SS's essays have always been soulful. Following closely to what is taught, she has expertly crafted an emotional story. There are many who would associate a good essay with the use of words which are extremely difficult to pronounce (let alone use. ) :)

I have always spoke of compositions having souls (Ha...Ha...Ha...) and that is true. Some stories have the power to move you to tears while others, though well written, are merely thought provoking. Why is that? I believe that the answer lies in what I would term "The Director's Eye". The ability to craft such a vivid scene that the reader could actually picture themselves at the scene. (That is one reason why I don't discourage my kids to watch television programmes though I am always advising them on watching the right ones.)

Another reason for SS's good writing is her willingness to explore different ways of writing and of course her AVID READING of books like the Chicken Soup series and some local writers like Catherine Lim (My influence... Ha... Ha... Ha...) A good composition like this always makes my day... :)

Cheers