First Draft for English Coursework- so comments and critiques are really gratefully appreciated!
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‘Please…Take this… And keep it… Safe.’
---
Yet again, Kyosu enters the old fashion box, in which he lives and calls it a house. Yet again, he flings his keys to the top of the dusty, old wooden table beside the lamp, in front of him, which was glowing with a faint light, creating a sharp, metal clinking noise. Yet again, he dumps his light brown longcoat, similar to the one of Doctor Who’s, next to the row of faint gold coat hangers to his right, rather than having some effort to put it on there. Yet again, he walks down the straight aisle in between the ugly flowered walls, each step disturbing the worn out floorboards, making them creak. Yet again, he reaches out for the chair, pulls it to his place, near the table, and sits down.
He dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a tattered piece of paper.
The horrid image in his mind as his eyes scanned the all too familiar image begins to form a flashback to...
---
Ten years, seven months, three days, and five hours ago, atop of a little village which holds a tiny population of seven hundred, stood a proud and magnificent mansion. At first glance, the white brick walls emitted an aura of purity and peace. The roof was skilfully lined with slate, the windows were spotless, gleaming in the shining sunlight. The estate consisted of luxurious vegetation; broad trees, bluebell petals were sprinkled onto the lawn. The most noticeable feature was the gate, simple design, yet elegant.
A young male teenager stood on its path. Gasping and panting, he viewed the mansion in awe, again. The splendour would never rub off. His shirt flapping in the light winds, he set off, step by step, edging closer to the wondrous destination. His sleek, smooth brown hair provided valuable shadow from the fierce sunlight. In his hand were two chocolate and nut ice creams, melting in the heat.
Eventually he reached the entrance. He waited anxiously for the large wooden door, which was standing in front of him, opened.
Inside, an orderly middle-aged gentleman, dressed in a smart tuxedo, cautiously approached him, and ushered him into the ‘usual place’.
The fine points of the room were so familiar to him; the electric fireplace situated at the east side of the room, collecting dust, since it was a scorching desert outside. There are several ornaments place on top; some of them were precious family heirlooms, or so she said. He particularly adored the miniature replicate of the Statue of Liberty, customized to the family’s unique tastes. The crown of her was changed to a rainbow, to symbolise variety and teamwork. Her body was painted golden instead; the copper from which the detailed statue of made was thought to have healing properties. The golden colour of the body represented the extravagance brought on by the family. The single remaining heir to the riches that is held within this sturdy estate was slowly perishing.
-
Shizuka was recollecting her lost thoughts in her ever deepening mind as the servant bursted into her peaceful room, looking more distressed than before. He had a reason to worry about her; she was his mistress with a C4 condition, which paralyses the bottom half of her slender body, but getting too over-caring did not help Shizuka, it seemed to have a negative effect, annoying her.
After informing her that the boy was in the lounge, lying back, relaxing on the huge cushion that was a sofa, she sent for him.
-
Kyosu entered her room. It was the colour of pale cream, which, coincidentally, was the colour of Shizuka’s skin.
There was silence following his footsteps towards her bed.
He presented to her the seemingly half eaten vanilla ice creams. Her favourite flavour.
Then came, ‘For us.’ Kyosu said with a mellifluous voice.
She rejected the offer, and shook here head.
‘Apparently, if I continue to eat these ice creams, the nerve connecting my teeth to the brain will brake, resulting in no intake of food.’ As formal as always.
Kyosu sighs. ‘What is up with you lately?’
Shizuka was stunned. Another silence.
Without another word, she broke down into tears. She sobbed, releasing the pain from her heart. Streams of water were overflowing from her eyes.
‘Without feeling... I can’t... I don’t think I can do anything...’
Kyosu empathised with her, caught a tissue from the nearby coffee table, and held it out for her to take it.
He viewed the blonde girl in sympathy. Her hair was reaching towards her shoulders, narrowly avoiding the tears. Her eyes were liquid crystals with a blue tint. An image of perfection, he thought, even though I can’t view her as a whole.
Shizuka quickly rubbed her tears off her face, knowing that she was in full view of him. Embarrassing, she thought. The fact that she had Kyosu, of all people, here to comfort her, made her feel special. She reached for the wooden table drawer, and out came the piece of paper, neatly folded.
‘Please…Take this… And keep it… Safe.’ She handed it to him.
Kyosu received the paper, and did not know how to react. He gazed upon her with shock.
---
The last frame of the video playing in his head vanishes.
Could this be the day, he asks himself. The purpose of the piece of paper hasn’t been specified. He contemplates, weighing the two choices, until eventually, almost three hours later, Kyosu reaches a conclusion, still in that chair, still with the light switched on, still in that house.
With his heart beating at a fast pace, he opens the piece of paper.
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B r o k e n L o v e
‘Please…Take this… And keep it… Safe.’
---
Yet again, Kyosu enters the old fashion box, in which he lives and calls it a house. Yet again, he flings his keys to the top of the dusty, old wooden table beside the lamp, in front of him, which was glowing with a faint light, creating a sharp, metal clinking noise. Yet again, he dumps his light brown longcoat, similar to the one of Doctor Who’s, next to the row of faint gold coat hangers to his right, rather than having some effort to put it on there. Yet again, he walks down the straight aisle in between the ugly flowered walls, each step disturbing the worn out floorboards, making them creak. Yet again, he reaches out for the chair, pulls it to his place, near the table, and sits down.
He dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a tattered piece of paper.
The horrid image in his mind as his eyes scanned the all too familiar image begins to form a flashback to...
---
Ten years, seven months, three days, and five hours ago, atop of a little village which holds a tiny population of seven hundred, stood a proud and magnificent mansion. At first glance, the white brick walls emitted an aura of purity and peace. The roof was skilfully lined with slate, the windows were spotless, gleaming in the shining sunlight. The estate consisted of luxurious vegetation; broad trees, bluebell petals were sprinkled onto the lawn. The most noticeable feature was the gate, simple design, yet elegant.
A young male teenager stood on its path. Gasping and panting, he viewed the mansion in awe, again. The splendour would never rub off. His shirt flapping in the light winds, he set off, step by step, edging closer to the wondrous destination. His sleek, smooth brown hair provided valuable shadow from the fierce sunlight. In his hand were two chocolate and nut ice creams, melting in the heat.
Eventually he reached the entrance. He waited anxiously for the large wooden door, which was standing in front of him, opened.
Inside, an orderly middle-aged gentleman, dressed in a smart tuxedo, cautiously approached him, and ushered him into the ‘usual place’.
The fine points of the room were so familiar to him; the electric fireplace situated at the east side of the room, collecting dust, since it was a scorching desert outside. There are several ornaments place on top; some of them were precious family heirlooms, or so she said. He particularly adored the miniature replicate of the Statue of Liberty, customized to the family’s unique tastes. The crown of her was changed to a rainbow, to symbolise variety and teamwork. Her body was painted golden instead; the copper from which the detailed statue of made was thought to have healing properties. The golden colour of the body represented the extravagance brought on by the family. The single remaining heir to the riches that is held within this sturdy estate was slowly perishing.
-
Shizuka was recollecting her lost thoughts in her ever deepening mind as the servant bursted into her peaceful room, looking more distressed than before. He had a reason to worry about her; she was his mistress with a C4 condition, which paralyses the bottom half of her slender body, but getting too over-caring did not help Shizuka, it seemed to have a negative effect, annoying her.
After informing her that the boy was in the lounge, lying back, relaxing on the huge cushion that was a sofa, she sent for him.
-
Kyosu entered her room. It was the colour of pale cream, which, coincidentally, was the colour of Shizuka’s skin.
There was silence following his footsteps towards her bed.
He presented to her the seemingly half eaten vanilla ice creams. Her favourite flavour.
Then came, ‘For us.’ Kyosu said with a mellifluous voice.
She rejected the offer, and shook here head.
‘Apparently, if I continue to eat these ice creams, the nerve connecting my teeth to the brain will brake, resulting in no intake of food.’ As formal as always.
Kyosu sighs. ‘What is up with you lately?’
Shizuka was stunned. Another silence.
Without another word, she broke down into tears. She sobbed, releasing the pain from her heart. Streams of water were overflowing from her eyes.
‘Without feeling... I can’t... I don’t think I can do anything...’
Kyosu empathised with her, caught a tissue from the nearby coffee table, and held it out for her to take it.
He viewed the blonde girl in sympathy. Her hair was reaching towards her shoulders, narrowly avoiding the tears. Her eyes were liquid crystals with a blue tint. An image of perfection, he thought, even though I can’t view her as a whole.
Shizuka quickly rubbed her tears off her face, knowing that she was in full view of him. Embarrassing, she thought. The fact that she had Kyosu, of all people, here to comfort her, made her feel special. She reached for the wooden table drawer, and out came the piece of paper, neatly folded.
‘Please…Take this… And keep it… Safe.’ She handed it to him.
Kyosu received the paper, and did not know how to react. He gazed upon her with shock.
---
The last frame of the video playing in his head vanishes.
Could this be the day, he asks himself. The purpose of the piece of paper hasn’t been specified. He contemplates, weighing the two choices, until eventually, almost three hours later, Kyosu reaches a conclusion, still in that chair, still with the light switched on, still in that house.
With his heart beating at a fast pace, he opens the piece of paper.
