Armughan Aslam of class O’ Levels final year came up with perfection this time leaving me handicapped when I tried to spot errors in his story. This too is another episode of our series about developing a story in a setting of snowy weather condition. I feel like shouting out a single word to vent my feelings or appreciation: Superb!

The puddle of blood, sleet and slush sent chills down my spine…

At exactly 7am, my alarm clock sprang to life one frigid morning. Poking my head from underneath layers of blankets, I could perceive grayish-white clouds through the window. I made my way to the bathroom, fogging the mirror with my breath. I put on my earmuffs, boots and mittens and made my way to the yard. The crunch of snow beneath my boots was music to my ears in the dead-silent morning. As I approached my mailbox, which was by now covered with white, cottony powder, a familiar voice caught my attention.

“Good morning Gary!” It was my neighbor and friend, Sam, from down the road. Sam was a short, chubby man with a stub nose and a round face. We waved, and so Sam started crossing the road to catch up with the latest news. Soon, however, my smile disappeared as I saw a car screech across the icy road. Sam’s body plopped to the ground like the ice crystals falling. The puddle of blood, sleet and slush sent chills down my spine.

The blistering cold and the icy breeze had frozen my mind as well, and it was quite a while after which I noticed that the four-wheeler’s chauffeur had fled. Without a second to waste, I escorted Sam to the back of the car; his ski parka was drenched in blood. I got behind the wheel and drove off with speed to the hospital. I could barely visualize objects steering the car through the sea of white, and had to swerve to avoid pedestrians in the way.

            “Gary!” exclaimed Sam, his voice dying. “Please tell my wife and kids, that I love them…”

“Hang in there Sam. Nothing’s going to happen to you!” There was no response. I turned around to see Sam unconscious. As I glanced back at the road, a leafless oak tree appeared out of the blue. I tried to skew the car out of the way, but the slippery road took over and we crashed into the mighty timbre. I fell unconscious.

Upon regaining conscious, I found myself settled in a hospital bed. The nurse told me that I had been in coma for three days which shocked me to the nerves. Upon enquiring about Sam, I was left shell-shocked. My eyes swelled up with tears, for Sam had died.

Armughan Aslam

O’ levels Final Year

Yet another ‘blast’ by Umar Khan of class O’ Levels final year! Same is the setting here: a snowy day weather condition. Even though amount of vocabulary related with snowy day is not as per our requirement, yet see the way he engaged us right from the first word he dropped onto the answersheet; the power of dragging us along till end; and a startling ending leaving you flabbergasted. A big thumb up, dear Umar! We all wish you an A* grade in your Cambridge Exam.

What she said next struck me like the blade of a sword......

I glanced out of the window and ran my gaze through the world now covered in a carpet of white. It seemed as if the earth had buried itself under blankets trying to resist the cold which had now taken over the world.  My breath clouded the window. Kids gave life to the dead world. They darted here and there, kicking mounds of snow into the air. Small and delicate crystals could be seen falling from the sky.

Knowing that today would be the perfect day, I quickly grabbed the ring and slid it into my pocket. The door creaked as I slowly opened it. My eyes pained as a sudden gush of light sprang into the room. After a brief moment, I stepped out onto the porch.

My heartbeat sped up when I saw her and thundered in my chest. She sat silently on the bench. Her face was as radiant as always. The first time I had saw her, purchasing chocolate bars at the local store, I knew it was love. She did things to my heart that I had never experienced before. My steps got heavier as I approached her. My fingertips rubbed against the silver ring resting in my pocket.

Seeing me, she abruptly stood up. Snow lightly showered on us. The chilly breeze pounded my face. Before I could say anything, she started to cry. Tears slid down her cheeks. I couldn't anticipate what was happening. A part of me wanted to rush to her and take her into my arms, while the other part made me stay where I was- dumbfounded. "I have to tell you something ," she whimpered. A chill ran up my spine as I heard the words- there was pain in them. What she said next struck me like the blade of a sword, piercing through the heart. She uttered, "I'm carrying a child."

Umar Khan
O' Levels Final Year
PakTurk International School & College
Chak Shahzad Campus
Islamabad

O’ Level students are fully clear on this point that when getting hold of a topic for story writing, and intending to use first person pronoun ‘I’, they can pose to be anybody, like a mom, a baby, a shopkeeper, an elderly person or a young man etc. See the way Muhammad Abubakar Mian seized the topic, triggered/prompted his imaginative explosive to cause this ‘big bang’ you call ‘a short story’. Intensely engaging right from the first word he dropped onto the sheet, the story is compellingly believable. With crispy, punchy sentences most naturally gushing out like a water spring, and well-connected like pieces in a chain, the story itself unfolds all information, the background, the present scenario and a likely future. You’d feel as if you were watching this incident with your own eyes. It’s like a Hollywood movie scene.

Muhammad Abubakar Mian was asked to generate a short story using the following two sentences anywhere in the text.

“Blood was still oozing out of his nose…”

“I had never expected her to betray me like that.”

Blood was still oozing out of his nose as I slammed him against the wall and continued to beat him to a pulp. His tattered shirt was red all over, but no amount of bleeding would stop my onslaught. My fury of punches continued to rain down on him as I blocked out the screams of my wife. She pleaded me to calm down, but that was like asking a bull to stop and wait as an entertainer tied his shoes - impossible. In retrospect, I’m not exactly sure where all that intense energy had come from, but come it did, and when it came, it was violent. 

The stranger had touched my wife in the privacy of my home. I use the word “stranger” lightly as he was a stranger to me but might not have been a stranger to these walls. My wife could have let him in on a number of occasions. This was a possibility that I did not want to believe, but was forced to at least consider. I had never expected her to betray me like that. These thoughts raced through my mind as my one-sided offensive continued. 

There was one thought that resonated throughout my body more so than the others: ‘This was my fault. It was my neglect that had led my wife to what she has done.’ She was not to blame, and neither was the man at the receiving end of my fists. The latter was only taking advantage of the former’s unfortunate situation. The thought of this magnified my anger ten-fold, but it was through this anger that I realized the man before me was now motionless. His whimpering had subsided and his body grew cold. The next sound I heard was that of a police siren going off somewhere in the distance as two men in blue jackets kicked down the door.

Boys of O’ Level Final, the other day, were challenged by their language teacher to produce a story within 40 minutes time, in a way that the ending must have some sort of surprise. Here is what our writing genius Muhammad Abubakar Mian ‘blurted out’. Witty and amusing stuff!!

I had practiced saying it a hundred times, but when the moment came, I just couldn't open my mouth.

“I had practiced saying it a hundred times, but when the moment came, I just couldn’t open my mouth!” Wasiullah wailed.

Upon hearing this, the entire room burst into a thunderous roar. It was hard not to laugh at Wasiullah’s misfortune. Wasiullah, the shy gentleman in our group of friends, was retelling his failed attempt at befriending the pretty girl living across the street from him.

“And what happened next?”

I questioned while trying to conceal my smile as best I could.

“Absolutely nothing.” He murmured. “She stood there looking at me expectantly with those soft pearly eyes of hers. She waited a few seconds for me to say something, but I guess she gave up as the next thing I saw was the small of her back and her golden-brown hair.”

“Soft pearly eyes? What the hell have you been smoking, man?”

“I smoke only the sweet fumes of love.”

Wasiullah replied as a smile quietly stretched across his face. His mood seemed to have been improving. It was clear, however, that Wasiullah had something special brewing in his heart for this girl, and that it was up to us to get the job done.

It was decided that I would be the one to accompany our lovestruck knight on his next expedition. Wasiullah seemed to be having an issue with introducing himself. For this reason, my task was to take care of the introductions before quickly leaving the two of them to themselves. Wasiullah informed me that the girl went for a stroll through Central Park every day at around three in the afternoon. We decided that this would be the best time for making contact with her. The next day both of us made our way to a bench near the entrance of the park and began waiting patiently. After about an hour of sitting around, Wasiullah let out a nervous squeal.

          

“There she is!” he yelped.

 Mustering as much suave as I could, I slowly made my way towards her.

 “Hi there.” I hollered.

The girl, however, walked right past me. Befuddled, I caught up with her and put my hand on her shoulder. Once she turned around, I told her my name with an inviting smile. This is when the girl pointed to her ear and I made a harrowing realization. The girl, who our dear Wasiullah had so quickly fallen in love with, was deaf.

Muhammad Abubakar Mian, O’ Level Final Year
PakTurk International School
Chak Shahzad Campus, Islamabad

A short story by our intelligent Armughan Aslam, a hard working boy in my O’ Level class. True that some areas and some of the sentences need improvement here, this still is worth reading a text. Armughan, as you will see, can successfully incorporate vocabulary words. His imaginative ability is also commendable. I’m sure he will most certainly be doing lots better in his future attempts.

“I realized that the man walking down the street had done something abnormal…”

I had never been so anxious in my whole life. My blood pressure had skyrocketed, and I was in a state of anguish and confusion. I could never have expected that the new Mercedes, which I had bought less than a week ago, would be stolen so effortlessly.

It was a sunny afternoon of November. I was driving back home after a hectic day in the office in my brand new Mercedes Benz. After years of promotions, hard work and savings, I was finally able to afford this luxury, and it made me extremely jubilant. As I rolled into my street, I noticed a tall, hairy man worriedly searching for something. In the span of a second, I realized that the man walking down the street had done something abnormal: he took hold of a garbage bag near my home and started pacing in my direction. I had to brake hard in order to save the man, who quickly came up to my door. Then, darkness!

When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on the lopsided sidewalk, with a faint pain in my head. I remembered the man squealing “Please forgive me” before landing a blow on my head with a rod. Worse, he had gotten away with my up-to-date Mercedes, which made me angry as a charging bull. Without a second to waste, I headed to the nearest police station and registered an FIR against the culprit. During the while, I overheard policemen conversing with each other.

“Have you heard the news? A bomb cleverly hidden in a garbage bag is out there somewhere in the city.” yelped one policeman to the other. “If we don’t find it soon, it can surely wreak havoc.” Before I had time to think, a sudden newsflash illuminated the LCD mounted on the wall: A bomb had just set off a few miles away from town. Soon the news spread like wildfire, and footages from the scene where being broadcasted live. All of a sudden, I felt a jolt within, because the dilapidated automobile damaged by the explosion was actually mine!

Just then, it struck my mind: the man, who apparently had robbed me of my car, had actually tried to dispose of the bomb as far away as possible from the city. I could not help tear at the fact that he had sacrificed his life to save the lives of hundreds. I informed the policemen of my story, and they too couldn’t help but praise the bravery of that man. That day, my faith in humanity was finally restored.

Name: Armughan Aslam

Student of O’ level Class

PakTurk International School, Islamabad

“He could never resist the temptation” was the topic given to our O’ Level final year students in their monthly performance test for November, 2014, and here is what Muhammad Sohaib Shahid blasted off for us to enjoy. See the engaging style. Words and sentences in his writings shape in a way that they keep you dragging till the end. You feel like finishing the story and then attend anything else in your life. Well done, Sohaib!

“He could never resist the temptation”

Like always, he did not see it coming. His over-weight soccer boots did not balance him which made him skid across the wet floor. Alan had slammed into the fireplace resulting in a bad bruise. To his fortune, Henry had just put off the fire but Alan, strained in excruciating pain, gave a high pitched moan.

 Mum and Henry hurried downstairs and on finding Alan severely hurt, gave him some aid. Wiping charcoal off his leg, Alan tried to walk but with each stride, he doubled the pain. It turned out that Alan had to miss a vital game for his team.

Alan and Henry, being twins were passionate in soccer. Although Henry never played since he froze due to nervousness in an equally important game, he was just satisfied watching his gifted brother play. He would recall the moments  he played together with Alan and always wanted to relive them but Alan, who was the heart of the team, would suggest him not to.

“Tell the coach about my leg……argh …, you…have gotta make it there” Alan insisted.

It did not take much before Henry hit the road. On arriving at the field, he missed the presence of his brother in the squad. Saddened, he grabbed a bench and impatiently waited the team’s recruitment. The coach was shouting the names of the starters when Henry heard him say “Alan”. It was time for Henry to innovate, since he could never resist the temptation.

As Henry seemed totally identical to Alan, he decided to fill his space.

“Just a moment, coach “, he blurted out quickly and then crept into a room where he got strut in the kit. Soon he was among the players and “The Hull Tigers” were all set to attack.

This newly born “Alan” felt overjoyed as the match progressed. It seemed he had overcome his nervousness completely. The crowd would appreciate his every effort, considering it to be Alan’s regular game though it was Henry who had managed to play like him. It was the last moment of the match when out of nowhere, the football bolted into the net. Henry who had barely played a month had scored the winner for his team.

Hull Tigers had won the cup!

Henry, extremely jubilant, rushed back home and beheld before his brother the trophy. Alan on having already received the victory news by a text message chirpily exclaimed, “well, there’s been a while we haven’t played together”.

Muhammad Sohaib Shahid
O' Level Final Year
PakTurk International Schools & Colleges,
 Chak Shahzad Campus, Islamabad

'Despite my best endeavours I could not save the boy...' is Umar Khan's debut --- an engaging story with a natural flow. The text has an impressive vocabulary. Sentence structure is the area, however, Umar needs to work on. I personally believe Umar does hold a genuine flair for writing. In the days to come, much more is likely to be shared from this boy because Umar Khan of class O-2 is fast in doing the things. Happy reading!

 
Despite my best endeavours I could not save the boy...

I will never forget those small, innocent, terrified eyes, for the incident haunts me to this very day. Despite my best endeavours I could not save that boy.

It was a bright, sunny day --- just the sort of day when I feel like leaving my abode in the mountains for a hiking trip. I was geared and ready within half an hour. The hiking trails were not far from my house, so I decided to take a stroll. When I reached the trails I looked up at the enormous mountain peaks.

“Today, I’ll touch the top, no matter what,” I said to myself.

Without wasting a moment more, I started up the mountains. Knowing the technique for hiking, I started off slow, saving up most of my stamina for the final sprint. The trail got steeper as I climbed further. Gradually, I reached the point where I could climb no further without clinging to anything.

I was out of breath and my legs felt heavy and numb. I could feel my blood as it left my heart and raced across my body. The trail showed no sign of ending any time soon; and although I had climbed for more than an hour, any sign of the summit seemed far.

“I’ll never make it,” I thought breathing heavily, after I was sure I could go no higher. Only two or three thousand metres up the trail, I would be all washed out.

I was about to relinquish, when I heard a faint cry. At first I perceived it to be an animal, but after putting my ears to the sound, I could make out a voice. Someone was asking for help. I followed the voice which seemed to be coming from the edge over which I was busy balancing myself.

I climbed a little higher to reach the source of the sound, and that was exactly what I found. A small boy clung to the under-side of the cliff. He was struggling to keep his balance, for that is what would save his life. Springing forward I grabbed his hands. He looked up, his eyes filled with tears.

“Help me!” he said. “I’m scared, mister!”

“Don’t you worry, son. It’ll be alright.” I tried to calm him.”

Without losing a second I tried to push him up, but my feet quivered to lose ground.

“My mother must be looking for me,” he said between sobs, “I’m all she has left.”

His frail form hanging from those cruel rocks brought tears to my eyes. I could read in his eyes that he wasn’t lying. Knowing that I would not be able to hold on for long, I began to shout for help. But the only answer I got was my own echo. I knew full well that the nearest population was at the foot of the mountains, and there wasn’t enough time for anybody to reach this tragic scene.

To top it all off, I was badly sweating, and the moisture made my hands slippery. The boy having realized the grasp was loosening, reached out to grab my arm, but unfortunately he lost hold of my hand and before he could grab me with his other hand, gravity got to him.

Mommmmm.......!!”. The next moment, I helplessly saw him rolling down into the abyss below.

“Noooo.......!!” I screamed.

After a few seconds, I could see his small, lifeless body resting on the rocks below me. I stood up. As I was walking away, I looked over my shoulder one last time and I thought: “life isn’t fair.”

By Umar Khan

Class O’ Levels 2^nd year

PakTurk International Schools

Chak Shahzad Campus

Islamabad

'Water Shortage' - A story by M Romail Khan (of class O’ Levels Final year) whose pen will never cease pouring out descriptions of newer and newer situations. He’s creative, pro-active when challenged --- with his restless mind always brimming with ideas and thoughts. Enjoy reading!

Water Shortage

"Mr. Kamran, your water tank is overflowing again...!" I informed my neighbour, shouting it from the roof of my house, hoping he had heard me. It was all the voice I could summon at that moment, seeing the lack of humidity in the air.

 It hadn't rained in months. Our city was suffering from semi-drought, and amidst all this, Mr.Kamran was letting his water tank overflow most negligently,  as he had always done.

"Ok. Thank you." I heard Mr. Kamran limping up the stairs to his roof.

"With all due respect Sir, you do know we are facing a drought. The whole neighborhood is portioning water to get by. I fear you may run out of your reserve." I explained to him.

"Yes, you're right. I'll be careful next time." He said as per routine, turning a deaf ear to my advice, albeit with politeness.

A week later, holding up his News paper dated 22/7/2018, I noticed Father gasp in sorrow. “There you have it. India has completed constructing another dam over the river Jhelum." he threw the paper on the table with his feet, “… now let’s wait for the biggest ordeal --- the inevitable drought.”

After about a month of treating water as an unaffordable luxury, I found myself looking at my colony. Brown, dry and... quiet. All I could see was houses and wood. The trees were barren, so were the roads and most of the houses. I  listened and hoped to hear the sound of my neighborhood kids playing, the sweet birds chirping, or any other sign of life, but in vein.  All I heard was an ear piercing scream from below.

" I can't take another day of this. I need to bathe. I stink of two weeks of sweat!" I heard a familiar voice shouting at Mr. Kamran. It was Nafisa, Mr. Kamran's eldest daughter.

After a brief second of utter silence, I heard footsteps from her house, climbing, or limping up the stairs.  "Mr. Kamran!" I  greeted to the dry face emerging next to me.

"Nauman, Hello!" I got a dry reply. Before I could inquire how he was doing, his dry lips seemed to mumble.

"You were right," He bid an overdue confession.

"Sorry?"

“About the water reserve, you were right," he paused to choke with his dry mouth." It's all gone, all of my water. Only a negligible amount left to boil for drinking."

It both shocked and pained me to see a lone tear trickle down his face. His dry, chapped skin seemed to twitch under the unexpected moisture of his tear. It was not just his family, but my family too. In fact, all the families I thought to constitute my neighborhood were suffering from water shortage. I had to think of my own family too. Knowing  my own personality, my sub-conscious pleaded my heart to show selfishness and try to take every bit of pity I felt towards Mr. Kamran and his family. After a few seconds of fighting it, I finally, reluctantly uttered  " I could lend you a little water from our own reserve."

"You would do that for me?....for my family??" I could sense the naive disbelief in his eyes. Come to think of it, why would he believe something like that? After a few seconds of standing numb, staring into the sky, I sighed "Yes, I'll do it for your family. Just don't tell my father." A part of me wanted to restrain from giving him even a drop of water, as he had worn out his whole reserve despite my recurrent warnings, but some part inside me wailed to help him.

A week passed and I kept on miserly smuggling water from our reserve to his home. Conditions of the city were getting worse day by day. Everyone’s reserves draining fast day by day. Sun baked Zombies, roaming the streets with dry mouths and parched tongues.

Our water reserve was drying as well, and now with twice the pace, as I had been betraying my family by smuggling our treasure, a bucket of it a day to Mr.Kamran's family.

Two weeks later, on a hot September morning, I woke up early to get ready for a boring day of repeated routine. Placing a bucket under the sink, I lazily crooked the tap to fill the bucket, drop-by-drop as the sink had always let go of our perishing reserve. As I waited for the sink to cough up liquid treasure, I could hear a different noise - a noise long forgotten. A wheezing noise filled the air.

WHUSSHH!!

The sound of water gushing out of the tap filled my ears. It was music to my ears. I stood stiff as I saw the entire 8-litre bucket fill up in half a minute.

Over joyous, giddy as a schoolboy, I exploded out the door and spotted heaven.

The water sparkles rattled into life, rhythmically dispersing water to the dead grass in the park. The sprinkles of water bombarded my face, refreshing my mind, my body. A new hope sparkled in my eyes, now being sprinkled by sweet H2O.

I rushed outside and saw the paper lying flat on the ground. The three headlines on Page one, reporting:

"MASSIVE FLOODS IN INDIA. ALL DAMS COLLAPSED."

"ALL WATER NOW DIVERTING TO PAKISTAN. PAKISTANI RIVERS OVERFLOWING WITH WATER."

"MASSIVE LOSS OF LIFE AND PROPERTY IN MAJOR PARTS OF INDIA."

Although I felt bad for the Indian lives lost, this sorrow was obscured by my own discovery of life.

 

M. Romail Khan

O’ Levels Final Year

PakTurk International Schools

Islamabad

Here you are dear readers. Yet another attempt at story writing by one of our budding writers - Sohaib Zahir of class O’ Level final year. The story begins with a tense moment, and hence is engaging enough. Inhabitants of Ohio need to stay alert!

Imagine you woke up and found an alien in your neighbor’s backyard. Write a story.

"Dear residents of Ohio state, our safe and beautiful city is under attack from some unknown creatures". Security State Minister, Mr.Paterson, announced with dejection all over his face. This petrifying news sent a shivering layer of fear through the inhabitants of Ohio.

"Wake up! Wake up! “Emily shrieked in my ear. "What's wrong!? For God's sake, let me have an uninterrupted nap" I mumbled elusively.

"Liam! Our country has been ambushed by some aliens, but you are busy relishing your nap" she stuttered in a scared sounding tone.

“Whaaat?” I kicked open my eyes.

Soon, Emily and I were busy packing all necessary stuff like clothes, food items, a warm quilt etc. Emily hurriedly fed Harry and I started my ole battered forerunner which was anxiously waiting for us in the garage to fly us to safety. At first, the gigantic ford was reluctant to start but after trying for innumerable times, eventually, it rumbled into life.

We loaded our ford with all the essential stuff. There screamed Emily "Liam, go pick your armlet up. It will come handy against those dreadful aliens"."Damn! You really are making me confused."

I came out of the truck and slammed the door shut. As I reached the store in the backyard, and was about to pick my moldy armlet rifle, our neighbor, aunt Angeline bawled stridently and I rushed into her kitchen.

There with the ugliest look I had ever come across in my life stood a weird looking creature which was busy examining the kitchen's stuff that he had not seen back at his own place.

He had scary eyes, curly messed up hair all over his sturdy naked body plus he had knife-like sharp teeth which were pointing out of his mouth like pianos keys. His scary muzzle was adorned with anger and thirst for human blood.

"Bang........." The bullet shot out of my rifle pierced through his nude body, hurling him onto the squeaky wooden floor of aunt Angeline's modern kitchen. The boating alien was dead at that very instant.

I huddled the corpulent corpse lying there from my instinctive love for humans and care for humanity. Then I bolted back to my truck where Emily and Harry stood, petrified.

From the emergency radio broadcast, I came to know that a ship will be leaving for Mexico City in a few hours time. A whole of hope shone upon us. Emily motivated me, "Come on Liam, we can make it". I kicked the accelerator hard and the ole forerunner caught pace, though it sounded as if it was crying out of pain and asking me for mercy.

In about an hour, we reached the port. Scared and wounded people from different parts of the state were rushing in. Confused and noisy, everyone was trying hard to climb the safety first. The vulnerable, poor administration was trying its level best to save as many as was humanly possible for them.

I took Harry and Emily. We got into a new yacht of some rich businessman with all necessary accessories stuffed into it but they were at that moment useless for victims since they were in a terrible hurry to get to safety. The yacht was laden with people crying out their hearts for their lost beloveds.

After an hour, the yacht shifted through calm waters, finding its way through murky mist which was hanging in the air with frustration and cruelty laden in it.

Almost the whole city was devastated, for thousands of innocent people were heinously killed. There was chaos all around.

What will happen next? No one knows for sure. Will God be merciful enough and give humans another chance?

Lives of the inhabitants of Ohio are under severe threat. Nevertheless, they seem determined to take the bull by its horns. Will government and all the people around the globe respond to the excruciating cries of our people...?

Written by:

Sohaib Zahir

O' Level Final Year

PakTurk Schools

Islamabad

Sohaib Zahir

Zohair Sardar has shared his reflections on the topic “Mistakes” by illustrating his thoughts with a couple of relevant examples. Well done, boy! Keep up good work.

Mistakes

“Ben! Come here this instance!” shouted mom.

On hearing his mother’s intimidating voice, Ben scrammed to the kitchen.

“What happened mom?” Ben asked in fear and confusion.

 “What is this? Didn’t I tell you to put the cake back into the fridge after you have eaten your share?” shouted mom angrily. She had gone red in the face.

“I’m so sorry mom! It’s just that I was so tired last night that I forgot to put it back.” replied Ben.

“Well, go now. This mistake shouldn’t happen again”, reacted his mother in a milder tone.

Ben is an average teenager who has just began his O levels, but he is not even a small bit serious towards his academic progress. Neither does he concentrate in the class, nor has he ever done his homework on time. He has failed to do justice with his notebooks, which are filled with random doodling and what not.  His hot favourite interests are either to play football, or to have a session of pointless chatting with his friends during and after his lessons. Ben has been repeating all his mistakes to the extent that now they have become a part of his life.

One cold, Monday morning, Ben headed for the school without fulfilling his homework in Science, Mathematics and Geography, most of which was assigned to him on previous Friday. At half past ten, his Maths period started. Everyone submitted their homework, except for Ben. When the teacher asked him to submit the homework, he started making up lame excuses to defend himself. His teacher was well aware of his attitude, so he punished him by demanding to do the assignments thrice.

Not long afterwards, his teacher returned the tests which were taken on the previous Wednesday. As always, Ben had not performed well, mainly because of his non-serious attitude towards studies. In the exam, he had done numerous silly mistakes, which were completely unacceptable for a student at his level.

When he reverted back from school at 3 p.m., he was so tired that he fell asleep the moment he hit his bed. He woke up in the evening and had his supper and evening tea. When Ben started his homework, which was only because he had received punishment from his teacher, he absent-mindedly started using his father’s official note-book, which had important agreements with companies written all over it.

The following day, his father received a call from his boss, asking him to bring the agreements on the following day as he wanted to have a look at the agreements made with other companies. His father skimmed through his bag, but that notebook was nowhere in sight. He searched for the copy in every nook and corner of the house, and as he suspected, he found it in Ben’s bag. He was utterly shocked to find all that mess his pampered child had created on different pages. Infuriated, he shouted out “Hey, you silliest creature! Where are you? Come over here!!” And soon he was showing Ben all those nonsensical doodles he had poured out there. “Do you know I might be kicked out of this job if my boss happens to see what you’ve done here?”

He kept speaking for long, advising him to be careful in future. “Let me now think of a way out…” was the last sentence after which Ben was permitted to move back to his own world.

Keeping Ben’s example in view, it can be said that many small mistakes give rise to big problems, which can cost someone dearly. That is why we should always keep an eye out for things and try to learn from our mistakes.

Written by:

Muhammad Zohair Sardar

O-1 Jinnah

PakTurk Schools, Islamabad

A Scenario, a setting I would least expect from a boy of this age with just this much exposure into life. Errors are always likely, here and there; still overall, the story holds powerful description, impressive vocabulary, and an interesting twist given towards the end. (Hey Romail, text given in capital letters is pretty too much. Avoid this in future.)

Once upon a time in Romania…

I was being pulled along --- my hands and wrists fighting the stinging pain caused by the hard, black metal chain shackled around my red, bruised hands. The only thing that was going through my mind was that SHE had betrayed me --- after all we had been through. After all the times we had survived and raided... the 'red soldiers', my mind couldn't accept the fact that it was her, who had betrayed me, Veronica!

"It’s not her... it couldn’t be. She possibly couldn’t do such a thing, not after everything” my mind was bolting to re-assure me.

Half conscious, half struck dumb; I was being dragged along by her, the red soldiers following... HER. From above her cunning and deceiving, yet outrageously beautiful head, I could already get a glimpse of the Northern gates of the horrid lifeless-valley surrounded castle.

 Medieval Romania still looked classy and surreally magnificent even in a time of such great crisis. The Inn was kept a tinge dark so as to avoid any 'unwanted attention', but being in that peaceful dark for such a long time, our retinas had become accustomed to the darker Environment the humble outhouse rendered.

"Will it be anything else, lad?"

"It’ll be enough. Thanks, uncle Victor." placing my empty glass on the bar table, I bid my gratitude to the dear old man owning the bar.

"I hope this 'curse' breaks soon, son. People can’t take more of his rule."

"Well, you have my word; it ought to end soon enough, uncle." I convinced my Uncle. “Veronica says she has a plan.”

"AND THAT IS...?" Uncle's curiosity thickened, but unfortunately, I was as curious about it as him.

“I...  actually don’t know myself” I replied, feeling a little ashamed.

After giving a mocking one-cheek smirk at me, He turned to the figure with black hair sitting next to me." NOW, YOU TAKE CARE OF MY NEPHEW, YOU HEAR?" His attention diverted towards her now.

"I WILL, SIR" Veronica finished her drink at last.

Stepping out of the old, wooden door and emerging into the forest, we felt the sharp blinding beam light on our face.

"AND VERONICA... YOU BE CAREFUL NOW, THE INGREDIENTS YOU TOOK ARE ENOUGH TO TRANQUILIZE A HORSE...!" Uncle waved his hand from behind as we left for our next 'adventure'. " I WILL, SIR. THANK YOU." Veronica replied, aware of the confused look on my face.

We walked along the white dense forest, snow melting under our feet, making sounds resembling the crunching of paper. Trees towered the sky to block our view of the clear Romanian Sky.

"DON'T WORRY, I WILL TAKE CARE OF YOUR LITTLE BOY." Yet another one of Veronica's proud mimic succeeded in mocking me.

It dazzled us both what evil in such a man , who could, in such a short period of time, alter the peace of a Kingdom and leave it in ruins. After the sudden death of the just old King, his evil eldest son Ozgredor, succeeded him. King Ozgredor, now.

The ground rumbled under the hooves, legs and wheels of the patrolling caravan, the  largest the two figures hiding  on the great oak tree above it had ever seen. As sleek as a fox, Veronica easily made the jump and landed perfectly on the roof of one of the carriages.

WHIISHHH. CLICK. BOOOM!

 One by one,  as quick as lightning, the cradle-trained young adult put a bullet through every dazzled 'red soldier', or simply king Ozgredor's private army they were. After the twenty eight second round, the second figure landed, as perfectly as the first had, onto the same carriage.

"THAT'S ONE POINT FOR ME." Veronica declared.

“I GUESS SO. BUT REMEMBER I HAD RAIDED THE LAST TWO CARAVANS" I proved my point.

"OZGREDOR'S FRIGHTENED. LOOK AT HOW MANY SOLDIERS HE SENT WITH THE CARAVAN THIS TIME." Veronica admired her own Handiwork.

"WELL, WE DID MAKE HIM A RUN FOR HIS MONEY" I couldn't help letting out a small laugh.

"BUT, ALL THIS JOB HAS MADE YOU A BIT SLOWER" Veronica teased me.

"HAHAHAA. LET'S GO GIVE THE WEALTH BACK TO THE PEOPLE", I let out, collecting the booty filling the caravan.

Heading back, I thought how Lucky I was to have Veronica by my side. It was so much better now that I didn't have to fight injustice alone. How odd the circumstances under which destiny had let us to meet. Our unbreakable relationship gaining strength with time. Bonding us together was the common inability of us both to bear injustice. All these thoughts were transient through my mind when THUD, the immense pain was unbearable, admiring the strength with which Veronica had hit me on the head, in a few seconds I lay on the cold muddy ground, unconscious.

My head was still hurting from that blow, my gaze was constantly locked upon the deliverer of that blow,  and now, she held in her hands the chains, which were the only obstacle between me killing the red soldiers walking besides me with my bare hands, if necessary. She now walked tall, free and leading the army of the undead to Hell, which I could already get a glimpse of. Upon reaching the Castle, we were let in by the guards at the huge, wooden, 3-layered door.

I was steadied in the middle of a large hall with a huge fire lit on the side, keeping the slightly lit castle safe from the agonizing cold outside.

 "HENSEN VELARIOUS!" growled the King upon  death itself, chained, helpless in front of him.

"YOUR LITTLE 'ADVENTURE' HAS CAUSED MY A FORTUNE." he continued. "GET READY FOR YOUR APPOINTMENT WITH THE GALLOWS, ON THE VERY SIGHT OF THE SUN TOMOROW" the tyrant smirked. "HOW I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY, OHH. he cheered.

I was dragged down a few hundred feet below the castle ground to the  Dungeons, not having the spirit to fight anymore, I let the guards ram me down the old stone stairs and jolt me into my cell. It was dark,  only two hours remained until dawn would break the dark, and my neck. The last few hours of my life, I decided to spend sitting, with my back leaning on one of the old dirty corners of the ancient dungeon, my head playing a flashback of all the happy memories made together with Veronica, whom I still couldn't get the courage to accept as a traitor. But as I was finally about to accept the reality of things,...

THUMPP!

The dungeon door opened suddenly and the light blinded me. Then upon I saw a figure coming towards me. "Was it the boatman? Come to collect my soul?" my mind wondered. But as a few seconds passed, I was able to make out enough  to recognize the familiar features of the beautiful figure standing tall, a meter or so away from me now. "VERONICA" My lips sent out, in a surprisingly soft tone. Before I could say anything else, She cupped her hand onto my lips and unchained me. Leading the way, Veronica ran, as quiet as the calm night sky outside, through the castle halls with me trying to catch up from behind. At the castle stables was a familiar carriage, waiting steady, as were the two beautiful horses it was attached to.

Before climbing up to the seat on top of the huge carriage to my seat besides Veronica, I stopped to look into the carriage window to see none other than Ozgredor. Heavily sedated by Veronica's home-made sedative laden cake, the King lay peacefully at the back of our carriage, unconscious, unaware that a fate worse than the gallows awaited him.

Finally climbing to my seat, I heard the beloved mocking voice of the veronica I knew again. "YOU DIDN'T ACTUALLY THINK I WOULD GIVE YOU UP FOR MERE RICHES, NOW DID YOU?" laughed Veronica with another one of her mocking smirks.

"NEVER EVEN CROSSED MY MIND" I replied, trying to get my humor back. All was alright now. As we rode our steeds out the Castle gates, I could get a glimpse of the Morning Romanian Sun.

"NOW, WHAT ARE WE TO DO WITH HIM?" I diverted her attention to the figure asleep inside the locked carriage.

"HIM?... WE TAKE HIM TO TOWN OFCOURSE.” she replied. LET'S LET THE PEOPLE DECIDE WHAT FATE AWAITS OUR KING."

 A new day was indeed dawning over Romania, our Home.

M. Romail Khan

O' Levels Final Year

PakTurk Inernational Schools & Colleges,

Chak Shahzad

Islamabad