Curiosity

The sky turned from aquamarine blue to soft pastel bands of a new day. Birds began chirping among the still foliage of trees. It is the third day since I was lost in the forest. My food supply was running low. Only a few drips of water were left. It was entirely my fault not to listen to the elders of the village and to run into the forest because of my curiosity. But it is too late now to regret my disobedience. I got to think of a way to get out of this forest.

I lived in fear every now and then. Afraid of beasts attacking me, carnivores capturing me and the chill of the night. Even the ruffling of the leaves, the moving of the bushes frightens the wits out of me. I once heard stories from my mother that people who went into the forest were killed by fearful beasts and only a few had survived. I had been heading north ever since I realized that I was lost. I had a feeling that something very bad may happen today but something good may also happen. I walked silently with every step I took. I almost fell into a hole if not for the squirrel’s call, which, I thought, was trying to warn me of the danger in front of me.

I had just traveled for a few kilometers when there was movement in the bushes. Out of the blue, a wolf, the size of a lion, sprung out of the bushes with its mouth open, saliva dripping out of it. I was unable to dodge the first bite, and blood began oozing out of my right shoulder. Pain penetrated through my whole body. As I recovered from the pain, the wolf was already preparing to make its second pounce. I pulled out my knife swiftly. The knife was the only possession I had inherited from my father and I shone it everyday. Seeing the wolf just a few meters away from me, I plunged my knife right into its stomach making it whine in pain. I thought that the wolf would just die like that. Foolish, naive me. I had underestimated the beast's ferocity and hunger. Bearing the pain, the wolf pounced again this time aiming for my torso. I plunged the knife with all my strength through its head and the growling of the wolf gradually died down. This was the very first animal that I had killed.

Not believing myself, I panicked. Pulling the knife out of the wolf’s body Iran like a bat out of hell towards the north side of the forest. Slowly, I grew exhausted. I slowed down my steps and laid myself underneath a tree; not realizing that the sky had already grew dark. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. Then the rain started to pour down. Surrendering myself to my exhaustion from the exertions of the fight, I closed my eyes and darkness claimed me.

A few hours passed, but rain was still pelting down hard on me. I heard voices. Opening my eyes, I saw dozens of people with flaming torches shouting my name. It was the villagers! I tried to reply but nothing came out. Hot tears came streaming down my cheeks as I watched the line of people moving away from me. So near yet so far. Mustering all my remaining strength, I gave a loud yell hoping against hope that it was not another silent scream. For the second time this day, darkness claimed me yet again.

When I woke up, I found my mother beside me with tears flowing down her cheeks profusely. I tried to move my right arm but I felt nothing. Leaning over, I looked and saw a bloody stump where my right arm should be. My right arm! It was gone! “What happened? Why is my right arm severed? Why?” I probed my mother frantically. “I am sorry, my child.” my mother said, then got off her seat and went out of the room.

Till today, I still did not know what exactly happened on that day after I had fainted. My whole life changed, things that I had taken for granted in the past became daily challenges. A simple act of wearing my vest could take me ten minutes. As a strong, young warrior of the tribe, I was now reduced to a weaver of mats, forced to watch hunting parties leave the village and bringing back food for the tribe. Forced to watched my humiliation, knowing that I will never be one of them. Curiosity kills the cat. But for me, curiosity has killed my soul...

Glen Ting
Primary 6I 2006

Comments:
Glen Ting was another good writer of mine from 2006. He is currently studying in NUS High School. Glen's essays might not be as soulful as Siao Shuen's but his essays never fail to surprise me with its fast paced action. I studied many essays and I have come to the realisation that essays with too many 'locations' (meaning; places where the stories take place) in a single essay never did well. What would win a reader over is the development of the location (in this case the forest) and the characters in the story (the boy and to some extent the wolf) I have seen many essays where pupils end off with a moral e.g.

.... and the moral of the story is "Curiosity kills the cat."

Sounds familiar? :) Actually such endings can be awkward and I would always advocate my kids to SUBTLY put in the moral of the story and not GIVE THE WHOLE PLOT AWAY SO SOON. The phrases in BOLD are my suggestions to develop the essay further. REMEMBER: THE CONCLUSION IS AS IMPORTANT AS THE INTRODUCTION AND AWKWARD ENDINGS CAN SPOIL THE MOST BRILLIANT ESSAYS. :)

Cheers