This is UChic extended essay!!!
Essay Option 1.How did you get caught? (Or not caught, as the case may be.)
Any feedbacks on this essay?
It was 2pm in Korea. School was over. There was rush-hour traffic in our school, with 450 students trying to escape the vibe of strictness caused by the teachers as quickly as possible. Unpleasant aroma tickled our sensory organs every possible moment in the toilets. There were fans, but no air conditioners to keep the atmosphere fresh. In winter, there were no heaters to make the students feel cozy and warm. Worse off yet, before and after school, a group of year 5 or 6 'naughties' (as us year 2 students called them), acting like street fighters, would always try and engage petty conversation with us year 1 or 2 innocent schoolboys and girls. Their point? Money. There was no escape for those poor schoolmates who were randomly targeted. Their pockets were emptied, and tears upon their faces were evidences of this cruelty. This is the environment in which I grew up.
I was able to avoid many of these ruthless senior-junior relationships because, over a long period of time, I developed a clever reputation of being the poorest boy of all times by not carrying any cash in my pockets. I did it purposefully so as to make my way home as less painfully as possible. It was a success.
One day, however, I received a birthday bonus from my grandparents: 5000won (Equivalent to $5 USD) in cash. Gladly, I took it and put it in my left side pocket of my one and only pair of jeans. Normally I would insert it in my piggy bank that I used so efficiently -- it summed up to 23,000won by the end of the year - but, in an attempt to recover from tiredness after the family party, I instantaneously fell asleep. Having forgotten I put 5000won in the pocket, I wore the same flashy, baggy jeans the next day.
I was really hungry that afternoon. My stomach grumbled at me. I had to please my irritated organ, and so I went into the rice cake shop and bought 4000won worth of rice bundle compacted into little cubes covered in brown bean powder. I opened the pack and transferred my nutrition onto my hands so as to allow fast consumption. One of the 'naughties' was there, with a rotten smile and threatening eyes. He came closer and closer to me, so close that I could feel his desire for a petty conversation. To settle the inconveniences caused in my stomach, I put one of the rice cakes in my mouth, and enjoyed the melting feeling in my tongue whilst the bean powders tinged the gustatory sensors. My stomach was producing acids already, ready to digest the chewy substance as soon as it gulped down my throat. It was a temporary heaven. I say temporary because when I opened my eyes, his deceptive eyes were inches away from my frightened ones. I turned around and ran like Arnold in The Terminator. I ran across the school field - the whole 100m in less than 15 seconds. For a 9-year old, that was impressive. I ran for a purpose. I had to keep whatever was on my hand to myself, just because I was hungry. The desire to eat outweighed the desire to escape from the year 5 'naughty'. I ran so fast that I couldn't feel my heart beating. In fact, my heart wasn't beating. I thought I had a heart attack, so I stopped for a second.
I had to consume one piece from my hand; my stomach ordered me to do so. Yet again, I enjoyed the smell, the taste, the touch and even the sight of it. I enjoyed every moment as I slid the squishy cake to the tip of my tongue. It was heavenly; it was food that I could never obtain because they were so expensive and my parents didn't realize how much I loved this type of rice cake (because it was my first time trying it). One of the seniors' hands brushed my back; I thought I was dead for a second, because losing the rice cakes on my hand would cause a tremendous inconvenience to the sensitive 9-year old stomach. My heart started beating again, this time at 220 beats per minute. I ran, not for the safety of my body, but for the sake of saving two pieces of square, compacted rice. This time it was with sticky, chewy, powdery thing in my mouth. Inhalation was thus impossible, because the bean powders would get into my trachea. I was so hungry that I couldn't throw away the last piece left on my hand. I looked behind for a brief moment and he was literally half a meter away from me, and I hadn't breathed for a while, enjoying even the slightest moment of gustatory pleasure.
The idea of having something in your mouth and running like Jerry (in Tom & Jerry) sounds like a scene from Mission Impossible. To a 9-year old, it was mission impossible. My legs were aching; 200m that I ran felt like 2km as a child. I didn't talk to my parents about this event, nor have I thought of it too deeply. To me, it was just an instinct. The desire to eat simply overruled the desire to escape from the 'naughty'. Now that I think about it, the determination to achieve the desire made the impossible mission possible.
What happened to me? I did get caught that day, by that 'naughty' I was talking about. I handed him the 1000won left in my pocket, but finished off the rice cakes before he chased me down. They were extremely delicious.
Unpleasant aroma tickled our sensory organs every possible moment in the toilets.
--> AN unpleasant aroma...
Worse off yet
--> Even worse,...
5 or 6 'naughties'
--> I think this is kind of confusing. Can you clear this up a bit?
- I really enjoy the sensory detail and vivid imagery. I can see it all happening. Not that it is a really pleasant sight, especially because of the naughti, nonetheless it was charming!
The idea of having something in your mouth and running like Jerry (in Tom & Jerry) sounds like a scene from Mission Impossible.
--> I think it's nice that you are referring to Tomy and Jerry and Mission Impossible. But why not just replace those with other adjectives?
- I always have something more to say than just this, but this time that is not the case...
...and engage petty conversation with us -- a group of year-one and year-two, innocent schoolboys and schoolgirls.
9-year ...nine year-old stomach...
I did it purposefully so as to make my way home as
less painless as possible.
I turned around and ran like Arnold in The Terminator. ---> you are a brilliant story teller!! Very good detail. I ran, not for the safety of my body, but for the sake of saving two pieces of square, compacted rice. I love it, and I love the ending. I'm your biggest fan.
I hope you keep writing!
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