An opening paragraph was handed to the boys of O’ Levels Final Year (here at Chak Shahzad Campus of PakTurk) as a prompt for story writing. Written in 523 words it’s one of the stories produced responding to the prompt (a Cambridge style question for which could be): ‘Write a story which includes the sentence: ‘He was determined to give his life-time benefactor an ‘easy’ death – as a token of his gratitude.’ Mubeen Ahmed Fayyaz came up with one of the most remarkable responses. Following the requirement, having opened his story with mid-action scene, Mubeen successfully applied flashback technique in which part he exhibited his mastery by wrapping up the entire situation in just 270 words, leaving no logical gap there. In the remaining 183 words, he then satiated the reader's curiosity by effectively showing ‘what happened next’. Look, the story also has a small surprise/shock in the end when Mubashir, instead of becoming an easy victim, reacts to what Thakur is going to do with him. A big kudos for Mubeen for contributing such a story with high appeal. Very engaging stuff, indeed!

An abandoned house

Thakur pulled his car out of the porcelain porch and quickly headed for the airport where he was to receive someone he called his mentor, lifetime benefactor and someone he truly adored. At hearts of his heart, he was determined to taking Mubashir to an abandoned house in the northern outskirts of the city to give him an “easy” death as a token of his gratitude.

Mubashir felt utter sympathy and droplets of sweat caressed his brow as he knelt down on hard concrete to pick up a lump: a young boy. He took the boy to a nearby hospital where he paid for the expenses and when he could find no guardian for the boy, he decided to adopt him.

The young boy grew up in an unfamiliarly posh environment but soon got the hang of it. His days were spent in getting quality education, developing a good taste in music and art and studying Henry David Thoreau’s “resistance to civil government” and similar books.

He grew up to be a teenager not willing to resign his conscience to the legislator. He believed and obeyed laws that were in line with his moral conscience and strived hard to denounce any that contradicted it. He had grown up to believe in utter freedom of mankind and absence of governing bodies as the only solution to mankind’s problems.

Mubashir had succeeded in creating a Mr-No-Government who had potential to be a part of a movement aimed at resistance towards civil government and so the boy became a part of the evil movement.

The boy who was now a man strived hard day and night to make the movement stronger but after the conservative party came to power and decided to take radical measures against the movement, everything changed.

He was caught, tried, imprisoned and tortured atrociously. He ratted out every bit of info on whoever he knew in the movement – in exchange for his freedom, something he had come to admire since his childhood – except that he succeeded in keeping Mubashir.

Today that boy, Thakur, was standing on the threshold of a colossal airport waiting for Mubashir. His eyes drifted upwards to the infinite blue sky dotted with gray clouds. When he looked back down, he was awestruck as he laid eyes on a pale figure with creased forehead and narrow lips smiling pleasantly at him. It was Mubashir.

He managed to take Mubashir to an abandoned house, his conscience failing him but he was not to deter from a decision he had taken with deliberation and lack of emotions – a decision for the better. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Mubashir as memories of torture filled his mind. He decided to squeeze the trigger not wanting Mubashir to face such horrendous torture who unlike him would not be able to strike a deal for freedom but before he could, Mubashir ran! Mubashir bolted on the rocky mountainous terrain. Thakur jerked his rifle on his shoulder. His shooting skills overcame Mubashir’s escaping skills as Thakur drove three bullets through Mubashir who soon lay still. Thakur then lived happy for Mubashir ceaselessly.

Mubeen Ahmed Fayyaz
O' Levels Final Year
PakTurk School, Islamabad

In-depth analysis of a story by Ali Hashim, AS Level Student at ROOTS School System(Ex-Student PakTurk International School)

“Being a seasoned doctor it took me no more than a few seconds to perceive what might have caused Angeline’s death.”

The body was brought in by my assistant and laid in the dark room. As soon as I was free, I had a look at the body. It was a young woman of around twenty-five, five feet six inches tall with blond hair. Her ID card showed that her name was Angeline McGregor.

Being a seasoned doctor it took me no more than a few seconds to perceive what might have caused Angeline’s death. She had been poisoned. The autopsy that I performed the same evening showed that the poison used was arsenic.[A1] 

The police had stopped the investigation, considering the death to be natural, but my report suggested the otherwise and when I gave it to the chief inspector, the case was reopened with renewed keenness.[A2] 

I, also being [A3] a detective, as well as the forensic expert of the police department, was allowed to look into the matter. I knew that only a couple of chemists in the city sold arsenic, so I asked my assistant to make and bring me a list of people who had purchased arsenic in the last few days.

A single look at the list gave me the lead I was looking for. It contained the name of the husband of the deceased, Anthony McGregor[A4] . But I needed more proof than a mere receipt before I could lay my hands on him. Nevertheless, I asked him to come to the police station and interrogated him.

He told me a story that, if true, meant that he was totally clean. [A5] The way he spoke with a great conviction in his tone made me doubt my instincts. I took his photographs and showed them to the chemist who had sold arsenic to Anthony, but to my utter surprise, the chemist told me that this person had never been to his shop
COMMENT

 [A1]Very good and plausible opening. Sets the scene and situation strongly. I am intrigued so far!

 [A2]This is implied just by the fact that the police have reopened the case.

[A3]It is implausible for someone to be a seasoned doctor AND a detective – both require lots of specialization.

[A4]To avoid later confusion, introduce him here.

[A5]What was the story? It would help the reader here to at least get a summary of it, otherwise we feel like the narrator is holding back information

I asked the police department’s best artist to come and make a sketch according to the chemist’s description. The sketch showed a young muscular man with a look of pure venom and hatred on his face. I put the sketch into the department’s computer and was soon granted a satisfactory result. The young man was Sal Malcini, a person who had a record of dealing in poisons and even using them.

I asked the sheriff to get him arrested as he was our man. I was startled upon interrogating him. I never knew a new surprise awaited me. He had been paid for the job. This was the only information that we could extract from him for a long time. But after we used the third degree interrogation on him, he soon gave away. He told us that it was Angeline’s ex-boyfriend, Mathew Lestrage, who had paid him.

Confronting Mathew proved to be a much more troublesome job than the others, as he tried to run away. But due to his lack of knowledge of the area, he ran straight into me. Mathew told us that he loved Angeline very much but she had betrayed him, and had married “that American guy”. Naturally, this infuriated him. He said he was extremely depressed, to the extent that it led him to taking revenge upon her. He’d planned to kill her, and succeeded in that soon after.

He was given a life sentence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[A1] 

 COMMENT

[A1]STRENGTHS: This story does a great job following detective style crime fiction. The ending is satisfactory because the point of these stories is to catch the person and uncover what happened in a mysterious crime.

WEAKNESSES: Often times the narrator withholds information from us. During the interrogations I hear summaries of what he’s doing and that he’s gotten information, but not what information he’s attained. It’s important for us to see what the narrator is seeing, and where you are showing only what’s necessary, provide a brief summary.

SUGGESTIONS: Another big issue is the implausibility of this man being both a doctor and detective. Both require lots of specialization. How can you work as both when the demands of both jobs require you to be exclusively available? Often times in writing fiction we will do things like this to help us create various elements of the plot, so it’s important to be aware of it, to step back and ask these questions. In this case, you might want to consider retelling this story by having the narrator work alongside a team of detectives, or be part of the investigation because it was his friends in a former line of work.

When a topic is announced in our class, particularly for story writing, boys struggle to come up with a story that could win the title of ‘model’ or ‘sample’ story for others around. Armughan turned out fastest in his response on the current topic this time, though his story was returned twice by the teacher telling him to justify a point at certain place. I wanted to see whether or not he’s intellectually strong enough to fill that gap that had marred beauty of the content. I’m delighted to see he has successfully removed that stain all by himself---that too with a single stroke of just one, single sentence i.e. without adding long details. Hence, it certainly is a ‘sample story’ on the topic “I couldn’t believe what my ears had just heard…”

I couldn't believe what my ears had just heard…

I couldn't believe what my ears had just heard. It was as if my sacrifice had gone down the drain. I was deeply regretting going against my parents' desire about marrying a girl of my locality, for the girl I had wanted to propose throughout my university life had announced of her engagement with someone else.

---------------------------------------------

I had travelled to Turkey as part of a student exchange program, and got enrolled in one of the engineering disciplines at Istanbul Technical University as per my ambitions. I was recognized as a leading light by classmates belonging to all sorts of ethnic backgrounds. However, one person who caught my attention was Meryem. Her father was one of the richest men in the country, but her manners showed that she was not a spoiled child. She was a friend of anyone in need, her modesty was exemplary and throughout university, we had grabbed many medals participating in competitions as a team.

I had never really pondered upon marriage until my final semester, when my parents informed me that I would be wed as soon as I touched Pakistan. At that point of time, I thought of Meryem as the best choice for a life partner. However, it took me over a month to muster up enough courage to travel to her house and ask her father for her hand. Her dad seemed displeased, and I was sent on my way back with rejection. Despite this, I assured myself that Meryem, unlike her father, would not be thinking so. But my hopes were shattered when I discovered next morning that Meryem's dad had gotten her engaged to a guy named Emre.

The writings in my diary mocked me, as if i had done something wrong. Was the rejection based on cultural differences between us? Or did Meryem never think of me as more than a friend? I was fished out of my thoughts by the ring of my cellphone; it was her father, inviting me to his daughter's marriage to be held a week later. I was already disheartened and so declined the invitation. "Let me remind you something, mister. I also happen to be the Director of Education, and if you fail to show up, you can kiss your degree goodbye." He broke out in his gruff voice. Meryem was one side, but I couldn't let my four years go to waste either. I had to accept the offer.

I arrived at the wedding location at the aforetold date and time, where I was received by her father. His stern eyes signaled me to pace towards the stage. I decided to abide by his orders without reasoning. Meryem was clad in a purple wedding gown with a matching headscarf. She glanced at me with her soft, pearly eyes, and her face lit up with a smile.

"Come sit with me. I've something to say."

She spoke out.

I hesitated, but she almost pleaded through the movement of her eyeballs in a meaningful way. So, I sat myself beside her, and she continued, “Although my father was unimpressed with your proposal, he still favored my opinion over his. I had longed for this day to come, when we would be partners not only for a competition, but for life; I accepted your proposal. In short, congratulations on our marriage! "

I was dumbfounded.

I had been invited to my own wedding and I didn't have a clue about it. I stared at her with confusion only to receive a mischievous, heavenly smile in return.

"But...but you had got engaged with someone?"

I stammered.

Her smile turned into a giggle, "It was all a prank! My dad and I made it all up! I hope you're not mad."

I was on seventh heaven. The prank was driving me mad. I was more than mad.

Armughan Aslam
O' Levels Final Year
PakTurk International Schools & Colleges
Islamabad Boys Campus

Armughan Aslam

I can’t help saying Armughan has once again sparked beautiful expression in his present story for our blog, but this time the content is not of flawless quality since he’s committed a couple of blunders, intellectual ones, that seem to have marred ‘overall appeal’ of the content; however, he did come up with very impressive vocabulary and mature looking structures for which he does deserve applause.

The hot wind blowing in my face annoyed me greatly

(The title isn’t enticing enough. Instead “No, your makeup is fine, but what’s that on your face?” could have made a better title for the story being this line more captivating or suspenseful one.)

The dripping had slowed down, and the droplets striking the window had come to a halt. The blaring sun fought against the protective cover of her curtains and made its way through a crack in the blinds. The thunderstorm which had prevailed for over two days, had finally given way to sunlight. Seeing this opportunity, I quickly phoned Karen and invited her for shopping at a nearby mall. We agreed to meet at 2pm.

Having got ready, I headed for the entrance. The grassy lawn was covered with a film of water as a result of the scanty but prolonged showers. I decided to ride my bicycle so I could enjoy my share of the sunshine. The dark-grey clouds had vanished into thin air and all that was left was the sun blazing in awesome grandeur. I pushed open the iron-wrought gates and pedaled onto the road.

Soon, however, I felt uneasy cycling under the scorching sun. (The switch to a different weather condition is too sharp & abrupt. The weather now, on the contrary, must be pleasant one since you’ve already mentioned there’s been thunderstorm & it’s been raining for the last two days.) The rays were stinging my fragile skin, and the hot wind blowing in my face annoyed me greatly. Moreover, the intense heat made me sweat all over my face, and I decided not to wipe it off; it had done enough chaos on my makeup already. I peered up at the heavens in search of dense clouds to screen me from the heat. I thought of turning back, but remembering that I was the one who (had) invited Karen kept me on track.

On the way, I came across a group of boys in Bermudas and half sleeves. They broke out into laughter as I passed by. I glared at the lunatics, to which they laughed even harder. This did not end here: passerbys showed similar reactions, while children would run away screaming. I was no longer able to withstand the excruciating heat, nor the people perceiving me as “The Joker” from Batman with the makeup smudged all over. I was by now like a crafty laborer, who had spent all his energy under the broiling sun.

Finally, I reached my destination. I was panting like a dog, wanting to quench my thirst. But adjusting my appearance was top priority, so I decided to head for the washroom. Before I could make my next move, I felt a tap on my shoulder; it was Karen.

            “Anna, what happened to you?” she asked with a disgusted look.

            “I know. The sweat just ruined my makeup. I’ll just go wash it off.”

            “No, your makeup is fine. What’s that on your face?”

Her words made me uncanny about myself. I glanced at my reflection in a nearby puddle. I was shocked to the nerve: I had developed a skin rash. (As a reader, I was expecting something more surprising/shocking/exhilarating, but it turned out just an ordinary looking ending with no appeal at all.)

Vocabulary: Spent, Scanty, Uncanny, Withstand, Screen, Dense, Peered, Awesome grandeur, Stinging, Fragile, Lunatic, Give way, Crafty

Armughan Aslam
O' Levels Final Year

Armughan Aslam

O' Levels Final Year

Our intelligent Muhammad Arshiyan Khan's debut story on the blog. A fairly impressive description of the situation his characters are into.

Just as we flipped our backs we were breathless to see…

Hurry up Kevin or else you will be taken in by the swirling tornado. We did not have much time to talk as the tornado was gaining on us. Kevin a lad of mine was lacking behind and the two of us were in front waiting for him to catch up. The sky was getting darker and darker and with the clock ticking, the sight was becoming unbearable to keep facing at. ’’Can’t the two of you just take me by your arms? I can’t go any further.” Kevin exclaimed. “It’s not the time to ask such bizarre favors; don’t give way so easily.”

The tornado was so vigorous that we could feel its intensity below our feet. It seemed as if it was rumbling for something to feed on. The three of us tried to make way to our boats which were on the sea shore. It was hard to budge through the woods but eventually we were relieved to catch sight of our boats.’’ Come on guys just a little more and we will be cruising’’. James shrieked in a reassured manner. ‘’Guys, guys……..Would you want to peek back for a few seconds’’? Kevin politely said giving us a shrug.

Just as we flipped our backs we were breathless and hallucinating to see hell up in front of us. This was just lunatic. Chills were sent up my spine. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the churning tornado in an uncanny way. Our feet were wedged and no one could dare utter even a single word. The wind that screeched the sand off the earth’s surface was piercing through and now our body was oozing abundantly from numerous parts. We all had given in. My body was getting incompatible and the sand that was infected prevented the blood flow. I was losing sense and getting numb. Suddenly, I fell to the ground and simultaneously the other two fell too.

I guess these are my last words, they are a few but it’s all I have left to say.  You guys meant everything to me and I’ll be expecting you in the other world. I was being sucked in sliding on the ground towards the wicked claws of death. My eyes were getting heavier and the only thing I saw was them both smiling in return.

Muhammad Arshiyan Khan

O’ Levels Final Year

PakTurk International School

Islaabad

Please welcome Shaaref Munir's debut appearance on the blog with his story “The Walking Dead”. Hopefully, you all will find it fairly crispy stuff.

The Walking Dead

We were petrified when we peered outside the window. It seemed as if even the howling winds of the blizzard could not stop their crusade in our street. A single blow would wipe out the entire group but no one could’ve ever imagined that the Walking Dead could have the strength to get up again to diminish their starvation. Stunned, my brother and I, Haares, looked at each other with our eyes wide open and hoped for a rescue…

A rumor was spread a few months ago through the Internet and radio about a new deadly virus that had spread throughout the world like wildfire. It gave the victim a serious flu for a week that slowly drained the life out of him and eventually killed him. Then came the serious part: the victim now slowly turned grayish and turned into a meat-eating zombie, but everyone called them “Walkers”. It was also said that the virus could be transmitted through any bleeding wound or if a Walker had bitten or scratched anyone.

At first we didn’t believe the rumor either as it was too exaggerating, but then later on we saw our own parents becoming the prey to this vicious predator. We couldn’t finish them off so we had to lock them inside our store room. I can still hear them moaning, but I’m helpless, though it is inexplicably painful an experience.

The earth is now a world full of dead continents with only a few thousands of survivors left who too are busy striving for the protection of themselves and their children. Luckily, my brother and I are one of them.

“Hey, Bro. Snap out of it! We’re short on supplies and I just ate the last of the cupcakes. What shall we do?” asked Haares restlessly.

I was still in a mini trauma by glancing at what the Walkers could do to satisfy their needs, but when Haares slapped me on the back of my head, I finally understood what was happening in the chilly air.

In whatever conscience I had, I replied, “Gear up, Haares. We’re going on a hunt.”

Haares smiled and hugged me as if everything was going to be alright and it did give me a very pleasant feeling. Soon when everything started to feel good, I heard a noise of glass breaking frequently from the lobby and then I heard Haares scream, “SHAAREF! HELP! WALKER! AAGH MY LEG! HURRY!”

Shaaref Munir

O’Levels Final Year

PakTurk International School & College

Islamabad

Shaaref Munir

Last week, boys of O’ Level Class attempted a comprehension passage by responding to a pack of short questions set on that. Alongside, to help them boost up their vocabulary, they were given the task of sorting out vocabulary words and then by involving them, develop a story. Muhammad Abubakar Mian has taken the lead by managing to drop his story into my mail box earliest of all others. I’d like to call it a massively successful attempt because all vocabulary words incorporated seem to have been employed as if there was no deliberate insertion of these words into the text. However, I’m not very pleased with where he left his story i.e. ending. In the capacity of being a reader, I feel unsatiated. Still, I find it a job well done. (humayun)

The White Knight had an important announcement to make........

Sir Edward, a public figure who was loved by his people and had a reputation of being one of the leading knights in the kingdom, had lost his sword. A knight losing his sword was an unthinkable thing and a cause for great embarrassment. If anyone found out about his predicament, he would be the laughing stock of the entire city. Sir Edward knew that he needed an imitation of his old sword, fashioned out of the finest metal, as soon as possible – but there was one problem: the unfortunate knight did not have enough money to cover the expenses.

Sir Edward, thankfully, had an old friend by the name of Marth who was a blacksmith. Marth’s blacksmithing business had flourished in the last few years thanks to many things, but principally due to growing demand for metallic goods. Marth was the only person Sir Edward could turn to, and so the knight made his way to the shop. On his way there, Sir Edward realized how much easier it was to move around without a sword. The swords Knights had, were quite cumbersome and carrying them was a laborious task.

The knight emerged in Marth’s shop at around four in the afternoon. The shop was conveniently empty as Sir Edward slowly took off his heavy cloak.

“Edward, my old friend, it’s so nice to see you!” Marth shouted from across the room.

Skipping all pleasantries, Edward drew Marth close and explained the situation.

“Is that why you’re wearing that heavy cloak… to hide from the people? How is it possible for a knight of your caliber to be so afraid of what other people might say or think of him? You are Sir Edward the White Knight, yes, but you are also human. And humans make mistakes – like losing things once in a while.” Marth exclaimed.

It was with these words that Sir Edward made an important realization: Knights shouldn’t have to be afraid of coming out about losing their swords. After all, Knights were the prime target for thieves and other criminals. Without another word, Edward made his way to the city square. The White Knight had an important announcement to make, an announcement that would free other knights from permanent embarrassment and ridicule.

Vocab

Principally

Fashioned

Flourish

Permanent

Turn to

Lead

Reputation

Cover

Laborious

Emerged

Cumbersome

Convenient

Imitation

Muhammad Abubakar Mian

O’ Level Final Year

Let’s enjoy Muhammad Abubakar Mian’s response on a topic ‘Natural Disaster’ – a topic meant for story writing. There are many more worthy of getting posted here. The class was giving the challenge of following the theme of ‘sacrifice’ in their stories. So has this one. A very successful attempt, indeed!

Soothing balm on a weeping heart  .............. (Natural Disaster)

Progress in science and technology has now given seismologists (people who study earthquakes and related phenomena) the power to accurately predict where an earthquake is likely to occur. Unfortunately, they are not yet able to foresee when exactly it will happen. So when my wife, Amelia, and I bought our first house, it was not without knowing the danger of a looming disaster. We purchased a beautifully constructed Victorian style home in a small Californian suburb. Everything about it was perfect, except for the fact that it was in very close proximity to a fault line. “It’s nothing to worry about” we thought… oh how wrong we had been.

The earthquake hit without warning on the 15^th of August, 2004. It was an early Saturday morning and my wife and I had been enjoying breakfast. Suddenly, the house began to tremble with ferocious convulsions. With a burst of adrenaline pumping through my body, I took hold of Amelia’s hand and we made our way outside. I still remember very clearly the frightened look on her face as we huddled together in an open field. The tremors lasted quite a few minutes, and were followed by a false sense of tranquility. I knew there was something terribly wrong. Earthquakes usually only last a few seconds and rarely go past the one-minute mark. It was after the earthquake finally subsided did my neighbors and I realize the grave situation we now found ourselves in. This was a large scale earthquake that spread over a span of 1000 kilometers, according to reports on the radio.

Many would imagine the greatest difficulty coming from the lack of electricity. That was, however, the least of our worries. No one knew about the water shortage until the next day. Sunday evening, Mr. Jefferson, the widower living across the street, came running outside. The noise he was making piqued my interest, and I went out to see what was going on. “There’s no more water! There’s no more water!” Mr. Jefferson shouted. Slowly, as his words started to click in the minds of the people around him, terror began to fill the already heavy atmosphere. Aghast, I quickly ran back inside and locked the door. Behind me, I could already hear the others bolting their doors shut in much the same way. No one was willing to help Mr. Jefferson. Once faced with immense difficulty in such an unfortunate situation, people tend to help no one but themselves. From the window, I could see Mr. Jefferson sitting on the sidewalk. His face was already showing signs of dehydration.  

“Don’t even think about it!” my wife screeched. “We have to help him… he’ll die out there!” I retorted. “..But we can’t afford helping him.” She responded. “And we can’t let him suffer either.” I replied. Upon hearing this, my wife came to her senses and opened the door for me. I walked out onto the porch and signaled Mr. Jefferson inside. “Water…” he gasped. I can’t describe in words how very hugely relieved he felt. The expression on his face that my eyes photographed is still safe in my remote memory. I felt as if I had put a soothing balm on his weeping heart.

Once he was feeling a bit better, we started talking about how he had finished all the running water in his house. After a few minutes of deliberation, we concluded that the water in the neighborhood was disproportionately distributed. Some houses had more water available to them than others. This is when I took the liberty of explaining to him that, from here on out, we all have to be very careful with our water usage.

A radio broadcast later that night told us that the situation would not normalize for at least another four to five days. We were advised to stay inside our homes and to ration all food and water supplies. I had done my part in helping someone out, now if only other people started doing their part. If my neighborhood was any example, our community was suffering from a dire need of Good Samaritans. Without them, we may not be able to survive.

Muhammad Abubakar Mian
O' Levels 2nd Year
PakTurk International Schools & Colleges
Chak Shahzad
Islamabad

Feedback on Creative Writing

·       Do you know in how many ways can we start an essay/story?

·       Use STOAP (speech/dialogue; theme; opinion; action; proverb) to begin your story if you feel confused again.

·        Expert use of connectors needed as your text seems replete with and and and and…..

·        Put in more effort into understanding how you can split your text into paragraphs.

·        Submit your next essay in soft copy form. It will save us time.

·       Always remember to separate adjectives using a comma:

1.    A sturdy, angry looking, aged man came out of the car with an old revolver in his right hand….

·       Use comma after introductory words:

·         After some time, we decided to move to the nearest mall.

·         The next day, we preferred to stay at home.

·       On our way back home, we came across….

·       Quite surprisingly, Sami was not there.

·       At last, a car appeared from behind a mountain.

·        It’s good to see you’re endeavoring hard to incorporate vocabulary words; however, thrusting too many uncommonly used words would make your writings sound verbose.

Reading onwards with a vigilant eye is what the solution is. This will enable you to apply vocabulary words in a way that they all sound appealing.

·        You and some other boys are using dashes or commas to end their sentences, mind you.

The solution is practicing a few exercises focused on correct use of punctuation marks.

When do we use a semi colon (;)?

Example-1

Sami came out of his bed; he opened the door soundlessly; peered into the dark and then --- shrieked at the top of his lungs. There stood in front of him a humongous dinosaur looking happy to find his dinner that easily. 

Example-2 

The following faculty participated in the seminar:

Professor John, Oxford University; Professor Steve, Harvard University; Professor Michael, New Orleans University; Professor Sandeel, Punjab University; Professor Alexander, Cambridge University.   

• As for the content of your story, I've already given enough feedback on that in the class.

I am waiting for further summaries of the remaining chapters from that novel.

"Better to have older siblings or the young ones?" - Let’s enjoy reading the saga of a saddened, disillusioned soul who’d prefer to have younger siblings rather than older ones. It’s by Hassan Bukhari of class O’ Level Final Year at PakTurk Schools Islamabad Branch

Better to have older siblings or the young ones?

You are one bad boy! How many times do I have to remind you to behave yourself! whopped mum.

Why can’t you be more like your brothers and Alina? She shrieked.

 -------------------------------

 People keep telling me how lucky I was to have older siblings, that they would always help me in my studies; caress me, love me and a hundred other things. But I wouldn’t agree, for the world I would not! Such people are not likely to have experienced the situations, for example when parents demand of you too much, just because an elder sibling was able to reach their expectations or the other way around.

But I know how it actually feels to be bossed around the house, to be commanded like a slave, treated as an unworthy child. I’d say breathing in this situation is one hell of a big challenge --- at least enough to get on your nerves.

I’m the fourth offspring after the two elder brothers and a sis, Alina. The legitimate brothers as I refer to them, study at a fancy university with humongous building and classy events, and the best part is, it doesn’t cost my parents a damned penny.

Oh yes, they’re smart, quite intelligent book nerds they are. They earn their scholarships, no doubt to that. My sister, Alina, studies at a post graduate medical college and she’s got the charm too. In conclusion, I’m the only child studying at the precious expenses of my father. Sure, they spend a lot at me, since they don’t have to finance the educational expenses of the other three. But unlike my siblings I’m not a bright “nerd”. My parents on the other hand expect a lot. They ask too much of me. They want me to be a braniac such as my brothers.

Sometimes, I just wish I were dead. All day long Ali and Sami command me like lords

“Hey, bring me a glass of water, and I want it chilled” Sami would shriek.

And the hard part is, I can’t refuse! Or else there’s a case of tardiness put upon the unfair court of my parents.

Why don’t you just mind your business? But I can’t use that expression, not for me. I’d get a good whipping for that. All they do is sit around and interfere in my matters. I mean no such element of personal life exists in my world. After a heavy duty of “do this, do that” they sit around discussing my life and issues as if they have nothing to do of their own, “you shouldn’t be doing this” it’s not good for you” advising me like nannies. I wish I didn’t exist at all.

On the contrary, I pray to the havens I had younger siblings. I wouldn’t bother them of course, I’d ask them to do things but they would be favors, not commands! I would train them, help them and do everything I am kept as isolated from. In the long run, it seems there’s a lot to be in favor of being the eldest, a well mannered elder, most certainly. Hence, there is nothing to gain from being the youngest.

Authored by:

Hassan Bukhari

of class O’ Level Final Year 

at PakTurk Schools Islamabad Branch

Hassan Bukhari