Thursday, 28 January 2016

Name: Sim Hng Kang
Creative Writing 1
Edison, my cousin.  He was the one I remember from kindergarten until now.  My cousin was just an average size person.  He attended the same kindergarten class as me.  I remember the broad, cheery smile on his face whenever he played with me.  He looked like any ordinary person.  But his character was different.  He was funny, patient, quite the sort of type that teachers and students would treasure.  He was not the sort the sort of person that a bully would want to bully.  He was kind and friendly to everyone and the sort of person that cares for others.  The teachers would usually praise him for his characters.  We used to play at the playground, the playground near the kindergarten school that I used to attend.  I vaguely remember the sounds of laughter from him, the clumsy way he climbed the stairs and the funny way he slid down.  The playground was special to me, special in the way that it could store my childhood memory like a hard drive.  The playground, that particular playground, is where after kindergarten class we used to play.

The place where I remember very clearly was my grandmother’s house.  Although it was old, the place was cleaned up regularly.  It was as if the table was glittering under the sun’s rays, the clean floor brimming to my grandmother, as if it was thanking her for putting her sweat and stain into it.  The room was large, mostly because it did not have much furniture.  And because of that, Edison and I could meet up and play together.  These are my earliest memories.

Creative Writing 2
It seemed so spooky as it is very dark.  Tall trees towered over it, and the trees appeared to be going to crush it.  There were little evil-looking eyes, and those seemed to be surrounding it.  This would be fun!  The little mouse thought.

Suddenly, there was a blinking light.  Then, it was gone.  The blinking light caught the attention of the little mouse.  The little mouse tried to confront it.  But the blinking light stopped when it tried.  The little mouse gulped.  But it told itself cheerfully that nothing is going to happen to itself.

Then, the light seemed to get nearer and brighter.  The light seemed luminous and spooky.  The little mouse broke out cold sweat.  It quickened his pace.  It ran.  But it did not know where to.

Now, the little mouse wished it had listened to its mother:  Never go wandering out of home after dark.

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