They call me...

MoonPhoenix Devil
ii belong to the FLAMES of imagination

All stories written are ficitonal unless otherwise stated. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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No part of these publications may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise
without the prior written permission of mine.

Comments greatly appreciated

Credits

Design: pKE Code: illusioNATION
Image and music: FF Extreme

Acknowledgements:

To my boyfriend who once taught me that only we know what style our writing should be,
Because others can only guide and not manipulate.

To my english, literature and drama teachers who once taught me the many ways I could improve.

To my littlest cousin who showed me that imagination never fade with growing age.

To all story writers who build my love for reading and writing stories.

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Anger
Thursday, August 9, 2007

Yet again, another composition of mine in Sec 4'06.
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I stared into the eyes which glinted in anger and refused to budge. These pair of eyes that burnt with ferocity. His crimson face scrunched into a deep frown. He is my irascible father whom I had just enraged with my sudden burst of suppressed dissatisfaction. "You either do as I say, or you are no daughter of mine!" my father roared in fury.

"All my life I have been at your beck and call. Never once did I say no to any of you requests or orders,, but this is ridiculous! I am old enough to decide what is right for me! I am already twenty and this is my life! I will not withstand your imperious attitude anymore! A girl I might be, but I am still human and I am going to work as a model, whether you like it or not!" I remonstrated. Although I felt a sense of trepidation that he would severe all ties with me, I stood there obstinately, silently praying that he would give in to me for once.

Then, there was a moment of silence as we both stood glaring at each other. I could sense the tension mounting, but I gave him a cold hard stare, hoping to show that I was firm in my decision. However, he stood there unabated and suddenly snapped at me in vexed impatience," You think that you know what is right! You think that you are old enough to do anything! In you eyes, I am as good as dead already, aren't I?"

"No!" I expostulated, "You are my only kin left on this Earth! I wish that you would live as long as I do! You have painstakingly brought me up and now I only ask to work and take care of you so that you can retire early and enjoy life. Is it too much for me to ask of you to let me decide how I want to lead my life? Can't you stop assuming that you know what is best for me?" I felt a surge ot adrenalin rush through my body as I was suddenly overwhelmed with anger at his outburst. However, I was not the only person fuming at the moment. In a fit of anger, my father slapped me. I swirled with the impact and landed hands-first on the floor. I was appalled by his sudden movement and felt more angry with him. I had an instant thought to leave the house at that moment and never return.

It was then when I realised that my overwhelming anger had brought tears to my eyes. "I hate you! I HATE YOU!" I yelled in a fit of pique. Little did I know how much I have hurt my father till tears suddenly trickle down his cheeks, but he stood willfully. Not willing to be deem the loser of this war.

We both stared at each other in silence, none willing to apologise. I was very angry and could not understand what have I said wrong, but I began to have mixed feelings when my father broke down for the first time in front of me. However, I did not move an inch and in face gave him a cold hard stare. He did not return any stare or show signs of anger. I knew that I had won this war already. I secretly gloated at the thought of success.

My father suddenly embraced me and started apologising between tears for being insensitive to my feelings. At that moment, I felt my anger vanish into thin air as I returned an embrace and also apologise for all the things I said in a fit of pique. After a long "father and daughter" talk, we each head to our rooms to rest. I could not help grinning when my father had his back against me as I finally had things my way.

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My teacher's comments: An original plot. Remember though, that a good story has events happening, otherwise it becomes a play with so much dialogue. Good vocab.
In my mind then and now: I am afterall from Drama Club, playwrights are something I have been taught.
Vocab is again from vocab book and this time, stories I have read. I personally like this composition a lot.

Newbie Snow dropped her story @
2:22:00 PM

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