Escape

This was one of my exam questions in secondary 4. it's also one of my favourite essays:

I woke up to the damp smell of wood panelling in the dusty, old basement. My hands were secured to a wooden beam that I was leaning against; the rope tugging so tightly against my twisted hands that I felt a creepy, numb feeling spreading throughout my nerves. My arms were lifeless, all the strength had been drained out of them while I struggled fruitlessly to free myself of the torturous ropes.

All that I remembered of the previous night were vague imges of faces I did not recognize, a three-storey, dilapidated bungalow that stood alone in that alien place. I recalled being dragged mercilessly into a black van, then thrown out of it and onto the front porch of the bungalow. Two men literally picked me up and dumped me in the basement where they tied me up, and left me screaming my throat sore and flailing about like a mad woman. They had finally managed to shut me up by hitting me on the head with a blunt object that I could not define before passing out.

The only comforting thought that I had right now was the fact that I was still alive and void of any apparent damage to my skull. After all, the effect of the blunt object connecting with my head sent the world spinning, and my thoughts became jumbled up in confusion. But then again, the piece of good news had a more sinister twist to it - the fact that I was alive might actually mean that I was waiting for a certain, more painful death sooner or later. My family was not filthy rich, and I was just a tourist to this part of Malaysia, seeking a good holiday, like any decent travel journalist. So what had attracted my abductors in the first place? My mind was suddenly filled with horrendous thoughts, triggered by the series of horror movies and novels I indulged in - thoughts of my body parts being chopped up and cooked, thoughts of my precious body being used as a sex slave to generate income. My hands became cold; I started gasping heavily in panic as the psychological trauma overwhelmed my sensitive nerves.

Then, a sudden sound. Somewhere above me, someone had returned. Heavy footsteps advanced into the bungalow, the sound reminded me of the T-rex that approached from a distance in Jurassic Park. Only these footsteps were a signal much worse for me, a sound that signified my impending doom.

I began searching the pathetic, worn-down basement frantically, desperate for anything at all that could serve as a tool for my last attempt to escape. It caught my eye - an innocent piece of glass shard from a broken bottle, lying peacefully by my side, patiently waiting to be used as a brilliant tool. I bent my legs as much as I could, and gently kicked the glass shard towards my hands. Grabbed it! My dead, limp hands sprang to life, hastily sawing at the rope; it seemed to take forever. Finally I felt some of the tension release and the motivation drove me to work like a calm professional skilfully cutting the rope.

But alas, time was not on my side, for I heard the footsteps slowly coming down the stairs to the basement. It was like a murderer advancing evilly upon his victim, aware that there was no chance of escape, no chance of freedom. Taking his time, slowly but surely. The whole situation was heart-thumping, the scene was reaching its climax and it was now or never.

At last! The ropes became a tangled heap on the floor. I leapt up, adrenaline pumping, and, rushing to the open window, I jumped out like a stuntman performing a scene of an action movie. I ran and my heart was filled with joy, relief, ecstasy. Oh, it was a sweet taste of freedom, it engulfed me, soothed my senses as I escaped. I ran and ran, and stopped short of the human barricade swiftly forming a wall right in front of me. The last of my freedom drifted into nothingness like a wisp of smoke in air.

I scored 21/30 for this; this grade is kind of, like, all my grades in secondary 4. no more, no less. i wonder why. nevertheless i just like the little twist at the end, something i usually do in my essays last time, i realize, and i think its partly to just cut the story short and end it on time. otherwise i could go on forever!

anyways, my past narratives are nearing to an end, and soon this blog will be stagnant. all i can hope is that inspiration will gift upon me and allow me to procreate! ahem. i mean hopefully i get more ideas to write soon.