The essay prompt is: Write about an issue or a situation when you remained silent, and explain how silence may speak in ways that you did or did not intend.
I will appreciate any help and comments. Thank you. By the way, this is urgent, for it is due January 2nd.
I was 12 the moment I heard my mother's vase hit the ground, in that instant I knew that my peace was over. I ran into the living room to confirm my suspicions. My younger brother, Daniel who was about 10 at the time, had hit the vase while playing with his soccer ball inside of the house; he was frozen in the middle of the mess. He stared at me and I could see how terrified he was. I walked away, came back with a broom and handed it to him. We both knew that our mother was going to be furious when she noticed the missing vase; she had bought it in an auction of rare antiques. The punishment would probably be severe, and I knew that Daniel would avoid it at all costs. Usually I would have told him that he had to confess what happened with no excuses or pretexts. But doing this would only bring trouble: when our parents arrived late from work, we would have a huge argument on whose fault was it, which never led to any solution, then my parents would get stressed and would punish both of us. This was basically a routine in my family whenever something like this happened. However, I was sick and tired of this horrible routine, so I decided to say nothing and just left.
When my parents arrived, I could tell they had an exhausting day at work, so I decided that I would not argue with my brother about the vase. When my mother noticed the missing vase, she called both of us and asked what had happened to the vase. My brother said as quickly as he could that I was not his fault. He said I had taken his ball and threw it at him, but I missed and hit the vase instead. All I wanted to do in that moment was to punch him and say he was lying, but I restrained my self. My mom looked at me kind of surprised and asked me if it was true. I remained silent. My brother's jaw almost dropped open as he looked at me in confusion. My mom said I was old enough to take responsibility for my actions, so she told me I had to pay as much of the vase as I could with my savings. However, she also said she was proud of me for not arguing and being honest. Ironic, isn't it? That last comment felt like the punch line of a bad joke.
I went into my room and began to sob because I had saved that money to buy an X-box. The next morning my brother walked into my room and asked me why I did not tell on him. I was too angry with him to even answer back; I wanted to leave but before I could do it he approached me and handed me his piggy bank. Our eyes locked into each other's, I don't know for how long we stayed like that. I noticed that I was smiling at him; he smiled back and hugged me. That was the most sincere thank-you I had ever received in my life, and no words were needed. He told me he wanted to confess, so we went down to tell our mom. She was so happy to hear what had happened that she took away my punishment and forgave my brother. Through my actions and my silence I was able to prove to my parents that I cared for them, and without noticing I protected my brother as well. That day I learned that silence can be more powerful than a thousand words.
I will appreciate any help and comments. Thank you. By the way, this is urgent, for it is due January 2nd.
I was 12 the moment I heard my mother's vase hit the ground, in that instant I knew that my peace was over. I ran into the living room to confirm my suspicions. My younger brother, Daniel who was about 10 at the time, had hit the vase while playing with his soccer ball inside of the house; he was frozen in the middle of the mess. He stared at me and I could see how terrified he was. I walked away, came back with a broom and handed it to him. We both knew that our mother was going to be furious when she noticed the missing vase; she had bought it in an auction of rare antiques. The punishment would probably be severe, and I knew that Daniel would avoid it at all costs. Usually I would have told him that he had to confess what happened with no excuses or pretexts. But doing this would only bring trouble: when our parents arrived late from work, we would have a huge argument on whose fault was it, which never led to any solution, then my parents would get stressed and would punish both of us. This was basically a routine in my family whenever something like this happened. However, I was sick and tired of this horrible routine, so I decided to say nothing and just left.
When my parents arrived, I could tell they had an exhausting day at work, so I decided that I would not argue with my brother about the vase. When my mother noticed the missing vase, she called both of us and asked what had happened to the vase. My brother said as quickly as he could that I was not his fault. He said I had taken his ball and threw it at him, but I missed and hit the vase instead. All I wanted to do in that moment was to punch him and say he was lying, but I restrained my self. My mom looked at me kind of surprised and asked me if it was true. I remained silent. My brother's jaw almost dropped open as he looked at me in confusion. My mom said I was old enough to take responsibility for my actions, so she told me I had to pay as much of the vase as I could with my savings. However, she also said she was proud of me for not arguing and being honest. Ironic, isn't it? That last comment felt like the punch line of a bad joke.
I went into my room and began to sob because I had saved that money to buy an X-box. The next morning my brother walked into my room and asked me why I did not tell on him. I was too angry with him to even answer back; I wanted to leave but before I could do it he approached me and handed me his piggy bank. Our eyes locked into each other's, I don't know for how long we stayed like that. I noticed that I was smiling at him; he smiled back and hugged me. That was the most sincere thank-you I had ever received in my life, and no words were needed. He told me he wanted to confess, so we went down to tell our mom. She was so happy to hear what had happened that she took away my punishment and forgave my brother. Through my actions and my silence I was able to prove to my parents that I cared for them, and without noticing I protected my brother as well. That day I learned that silence can be more powerful than a thousand words.