Words of Wisdom:

"beggining is half done" - Giaidieuxanh


  • Date Submitted: 09/16/2010 05:13 AM
  • Flesch-Kincaid Score: 67.7 
  • Words: 702
  • Essay Grade: no grades
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Dark shadows camouflage the adolescent against the work desk in the bed room, the only source of light illuminating from a small desk lamp. Scratching sounds can be heard, then erasing sounds. Suddenly, the paper the teenager is erasing on rips – and is followed by a strong of curses. The derogatory comments are first aimed at the paper, then at the teacher who assigned the essay. Angry now, he lays down the pencil, placing his hands heavily on his furrowed forehead. Despair, dissatisfaction, and distress with his essay leave his hands cold and clammy. The cold eats away at his thoughts, leaving only a disembodied jumble of thoughts and plans. Another wave of despair hits him as he realizes the essay is due tomorrow, yet it is already 9 o’ clock. Feeling nauseous, he slips out of his room, squinting as the dazzling light brings tears into his eyes. The light seemingly embraces him with warm, tantalizing hands. Only now, does he realize the warmth is not from the light, rather the cackling hearth. Entranced by warmth and the waltzing flames and bright light, he finally notices the laughter and cries of joy around the living room sofa, and the soft piano music permeating every inch of the room. He watches as his mother’s pale, slender hands move up and down, drifting from one key to the next, a spectacle of skill and concentration. Seeing him, his mother breaks into an ear-splitting smile, as she stands up and hugs him fiercely. Although the unfinished essay eats at him like a parasite, with the hug he feels better; as if a trail appeared in inhospitable woods. On the sofa, his father looks at him from his newspaper, and notices the slumped shoulders and distracted eyes. Desiring to help him, his dad places one firm hand on his shoulder and asks if he needs any help. The firm hand acts like a literal Midas touch of the mind – his once ravaged psyche was now slowly, but surely healing; the rust turning into gold. However, he declines the assistance and...


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