One day you made a bad mistake which upset other people. Write about how you tried to put things right.
I never forget that night, when for the first time in my life, I dreaded sleeping in my mother's embrace. No lullaby, no stories, no hugs and kisses. Every now and then, she would draw a long sigh, leaving me wide awake, reflecting upon my blunder.
That evening, as usual, I practised my skipping tricks while my mother went jogging in the park nearby; we went home after one hour enjoying fresh air, chatting merrily all the way. I just did not know that the trouble only began after we reached home.
I felt in my pocket for the keys, but the cool feeling I was expecting did not come at all. The keys must have dropped out of my pocket when I was skipping. A bunch of keys- my house key, my mother's office key, and most importantly her motorbike's key- all were gone.
If only my father had frowned at me, if only my mother had shouted at me! That eerie silence gave cold chills running along my spine. My mother's sigh broke the silence, shadow falling across her face. My father called the locksmith, but the keys would not be ready until the weekend. My mother snagged her teeth on her bottom lip, as if she was trying not to say something out loud, but I could read her mind clearly- she would have to take public transport to work tomorrow onwards early in the morning to reach her workplace on time, and she was more than worried. It would be torturous for anyone with extreme motion sickness like her. She rested her head on her hand, blue veins faintly visible through her pale skin.
That night passed by as my mother tossed about instead of hugging me gently in our warm blanket. Early in the morning, she prepared breakfast for me. Silence still conquered the dining room. She must have really hated me. She left an hour early for work; her heels sank in the mud at the edge of the sidewalk, each step in rhythm with her deep breath, preparing for the ride.
How could she stand more than an hour riding on the bus? The last time she took bus to work she had to take the next day off for she fell sick. It was my entire fault. I should have known that the keys would have fallen out while I was skipping. The inner surge of anger within me was shouting desperately: 'Think of something! Think!', but I was glued to the seat, staring at nowhere. I wanted to do something, and yet my hands were twining into each other, my palm wet.
Bingo! For the first time, I knew what to do.
I ran into the market, stopped at the fruit bar which had just opened, then quickly made my way to the bus stop, hoping that the bus would be late like usual. It started to rain. The rain was blurring my eyeglasses, but the image of my mother was in my mind was clear. I had to get there.
The bus stop was faded behind the curtain of rain. My leg automatically stopped, a rush of despair rolled over me like waves. She left.
I came to sit in the bus stop, waiting for the rain to subdue. Was she coughing on the bus? Could she breathe well, or the smell of the bus was giving her a hard time? If only I had run faster, she might not have to suffer the bus. How stupid I was to lose her keys!
'What are you doing here, Alice? You are supposed to go to school!'
I turned around. That angelic voice was exactly what I was yearning for.
'This is for you', I handed her the bag of oranges, 'during the bus ride.'
She looked at me and a smile crossed her face. She reached out to take the orange bag from me, her hand stroked mine, her eyes were smiling too, loving and tender. In that second, I knew that she was going to be fine. We were going to be fine.
Please please help me read through this stupid essay. It sounds so weird, but I suppose that's the best I could do. It's due tomorrow. Can you give me some suggestions on how to express the story to be more natural? OMG I feel so desperate.
I never forget that night, when for the first time in my life, I dreaded sleeping in my mother's embrace. No lullaby, no stories, no hugs and kisses. Every now and then, she would draw a long sigh, leaving me wide awake, reflecting upon my blunder.
That evening, as usual, I practised my skipping tricks while my mother went jogging in the park nearby; we went home after one hour enjoying fresh air, chatting merrily all the way. I just did not know that the trouble only began after we reached home.
I felt in my pocket for the keys, but the cool feeling I was expecting did not come at all. The keys must have dropped out of my pocket when I was skipping. A bunch of keys- my house key, my mother's office key, and most importantly her motorbike's key- all were gone.
If only my father had frowned at me, if only my mother had shouted at me! That eerie silence gave cold chills running along my spine. My mother's sigh broke the silence, shadow falling across her face. My father called the locksmith, but the keys would not be ready until the weekend. My mother snagged her teeth on her bottom lip, as if she was trying not to say something out loud, but I could read her mind clearly- she would have to take public transport to work tomorrow onwards early in the morning to reach her workplace on time, and she was more than worried. It would be torturous for anyone with extreme motion sickness like her. She rested her head on her hand, blue veins faintly visible through her pale skin.
That night passed by as my mother tossed about instead of hugging me gently in our warm blanket. Early in the morning, she prepared breakfast for me. Silence still conquered the dining room. She must have really hated me. She left an hour early for work; her heels sank in the mud at the edge of the sidewalk, each step in rhythm with her deep breath, preparing for the ride.
How could she stand more than an hour riding on the bus? The last time she took bus to work she had to take the next day off for she fell sick. It was my entire fault. I should have known that the keys would have fallen out while I was skipping. The inner surge of anger within me was shouting desperately: 'Think of something! Think!', but I was glued to the seat, staring at nowhere. I wanted to do something, and yet my hands were twining into each other, my palm wet.
Bingo! For the first time, I knew what to do.
I ran into the market, stopped at the fruit bar which had just opened, then quickly made my way to the bus stop, hoping that the bus would be late like usual. It started to rain. The rain was blurring my eyeglasses, but the image of my mother was in my mind was clear. I had to get there.
The bus stop was faded behind the curtain of rain. My leg automatically stopped, a rush of despair rolled over me like waves. She left.
I came to sit in the bus stop, waiting for the rain to subdue. Was she coughing on the bus? Could she breathe well, or the smell of the bus was giving her a hard time? If only I had run faster, she might not have to suffer the bus. How stupid I was to lose her keys!
'What are you doing here, Alice? You are supposed to go to school!'
I turned around. That angelic voice was exactly what I was yearning for.
'This is for you', I handed her the bag of oranges, 'during the bus ride.'
She looked at me and a smile crossed her face. She reached out to take the orange bag from me, her hand stroked mine, her eyes were smiling too, loving and tender. In that second, I knew that she was going to be fine. We were going to be fine.
Please please help me read through this stupid essay. It sounds so weird, but I suppose that's the best I could do. It's due tomorrow. Can you give me some suggestions on how to express the story to be more natural? OMG I feel so desperate.