An Accident

An Accident

The sun was shimmering fiercely in the clear blue sky. A gentle breeze of wind caressed my cheeks. I sighed disappointedly. It was a perfect day to go out and play, but I was stuck at home with heaps of homework.

       “Lily, are you done with your homework yet? Father had suggested we go to the Botanical Gardens and have a picnic!” My mother called to me from the living room. At the thought, I felt better. I quickly completed the rest of my homework and then dressed myself. Mother was at the door waiting for me with a big basket of picnic food. We also brought along two kites as it was a windy day. Then, we set off by car.

       Not long after, we reached the Botanical Gardens. We found a shady spot and laid our picnic mat. My younger brother, Mark and I helped Mother lay out the yummy food. There were ham and cheese sandwiches, fried chicken wings, a big jug of ice lemon tea and a huge chocolate cake. Growl…growl…I could feel my stomach growling furiously. I licked my lips and helped myself to scrumptious food.

       After lunch, Mark eagerly took a kite and started to unwind the string. Soon, the red and orange kite was high up in the sky. I decided to rest awhile first and enjoy the greenery before joining Mark. As I relaxed, I thought about getting a bag of sweets for Mark for his birthday…

       Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek jolted me awake from my daydream. I scanned the whole area, wondering what had happened. Mother and Father had also looked up from what they were doing. At once, a frightening thought struck my mind. Where was Mark? My eyes caught a red and orange kite lying on the ground. Could it be…? I dashed towards the kite. To my horror, I found Mark in a small hole, just enough to fit his skinny body. I gasped in shock. His face was as pale as a sheet, and he breathed in ragged gasps. I rushed back to my parents. “It’s… Mark! He had… fallen into the… hole!” I stuttered to my parents. They ran over to the direction I was pointing at. I dug in my handbag for my mobile phone, pushing away everything in my way. I had to get help, I had to. With my hands trembling, I called for an ambulance. I went back to the hole and tried with my parents to get him out, but the hole was too deep.

       Minutes seemed like hours as I waited with my parents for the ambulance to arrive.

Finally, I could hear the wails of the siren of the ambulance. Paramedics rushed to the hole. They expertly put a long ladder in the hole as one paramedic tried to squeeze himself into the hole. I watched at the side with my heart beating furiously in my chest. I could not stop myself from peering over the edge of the hole. Using one muscular hand to grip onto the ladder, the strong and burly paramedic carried Mark and climbed out of the hole. Almost immediately, they put Mark onto a stretcher and pushed him into the ambulance. Father also went along in the ambulance.

       The next day, Mother brought me to the Singapore General Hospital to visit Mark. To my utter relief, Mark was fine. Unfortunately, he had a fractured arm, and had to wear a cast. I later learned from Mother that the hole that Mark fell into was actually dug up because there was to be a new map board to be put up. The careless workers had forgotten to put up a notice to warn people.

       Several years had passed but I will never forget that incident on that fateful day. I have also learnt to be more alert about my surroundings and I am sure that kind of incident will never happen to me again.

Laughter by Terry Tan, 4E1

Write about an occasion when you just could not stop laughing

at an inappropriate moment

Balancing the glassware on the circular tray, I struggled to keep my balance and to arrange the glasses on the pressed and pristine white tablecloth. Only after the last glass was placed did I dare release my breath.

"Alright, that is not too bad, though you should probably take care not to load your tray with too many dishes this evening. As always, remember, if you break it, you will pay for it," warned my manager.

With those ominous words, I was deemed worthy to serve for the first time at the restaurant.

My application for the post of being a waiter in an Italian restaurant was a lark. The rigorous training came as a surprise. It involved memorising endless terms and details of the items on menu. Yet by far, the pinnacle of the learning process proved to be navigating with a full tray without tripping or spilling. Anticipation for the evening's duties grew as the polish clientele strolled in, were ushered to and seated at their respective tables.

As the evening went on, I fell into the rhythm of things, serving a number of tables successfully. The kitchen was a hubbub of activities, where the dishes were expertly prepared. In contrast, the dining area was an oasis of equanimity. With more platters on my tray, I felt the weight beginning to put a strain on my wrist. Braving the pain with a tight smile, I approached the nearest table to be served.

Mr. Dickens, a regular customer, was in a cosy conversation with his latest female companion. He had to be seated in an obscure corner, since his unsuspecting missus had made a dinner appointment with her friends on the same evening. I shook my head thinking about it.

Without warning, the dishes started to slide slightly forward. Trying to stay in control, I stopped in my tracks. As if in slow motion, I felt the tray slipping out of my grip. Teetering, I grabbed the nearest object to stabilise myself, yet the tray inevitably tipped over. "Crash!" The sound reverberated through the whole restaurant. Thankfully there did not seem to be any injuries. Before I could apologise, I realised that in the confusion, I had Mr. Dickens' wig! His shiny pate was uncovered. I was thrown into fits of laughter at the sight of his bald head. In fact, I was so amused by the whole situation that tears streamed down my cheeks. I tried to stop my laughter, but it seemed my body had a mind of its own. I let out a chortle and quickly regretted laughing, while trying to regain my composure.

"What kind of service is this?! I demand to see the manager!" his voice boomed, filled with rage and his face had turned into the colour of molten lava. His dining partner was trying to stifle her giggles at the sight of his scalp.

Before I could scurry away, another lady stormed past me, landing an ear-splitting slap on Mr. Dickens' face.

"So this is what you meant by being busy with work!" Mrs. Dickens threw the question at him, ignored everyone's stares before exiting the restaurant.

Paralysed, I stood there, steeped in mortification. Mr. Dickens, now an absolute tornado of mixed emotions, apologised to the other lady. Muttering curses at the general public and me, he left in pursuit of his wife. The other lady, blushing by then, left accordingly as if following stage directions.

With the colourful characters having taken their leave, the restaurant's entire attention was affixed upon me. My manager, ever phlegmatic in the face of disasters, was caught off-guard by the scene that unfolded before him.  After he recovered, he ordered the clean-up and the staff to resume their duties.  Soon, business as the restaurant continued as usual.

I was given the rest of the evening off by my manager, who was too swamped by work to discuss the matter. Was I to be fired or forgiven? As I walked away from the restaurant, I contemplated my uncertain future miserably.                                                                               

By Terry Tan, Class 4E1

Laughter by Chermain Chua, 4E2

Write about an occasion when you just could not stop laughing

at an inappropriate moment

By Chermain Chua, Class 4E2

Teachers were pacing to and fro the aisles, marking on the attendance books. Air conditioners droned on and on monotonously, alleviating the temperature in the school hall. The shuffling of shoes could be heard as some students ambled in casually. A tense atmosphere surrounded the venue as student candidates furiously flipped through their study notes, attempting to cram as much information as possible into their exhausted brains. Hushed whispers enveloped the school hall as apprehension swirled like winter chill throughout my entire body.

The activities eventually came to a complete halt when the ear-piercing school bell chimed cacophonously. Subsequently, the national anthem reverberated patriotically in the school hall as the entire Secondary Three cohort stood at attention. In what seemed like hours, the examination eventually commenced. Test papers rustled in the tense silence of the examination hall as they were distributed to us by our respective teachers.

“You may now begin,” instructed a male teacher, in a hoarse voice.

I could literally feel my heart palpitating wildly as I scribbled down my name, index number and class. Astonishingly, as I tackled the examination questions, I realised they appeared to be rather manageable. Possessing a sanguine and confident disposition, I diligently wrote down the answers to the questions, which were a piece of cake.

In a jiffy, I completed my paper. To ensure I was not being complacent, I scrutinised the paper a couple of times. Unable to detect any form of careless mistakes, I sprawled over my table, with my chin resting on the solid, grey plastic of the vandalised desk and stifled a yawn. Feeling rather bored, I started to scan the surroundings for something interesting so as to pass time and keep myself occupied.

Mr Oliver, who was in charge of monitoring the entire student body in the school hall, caught my attention. He was positioned on a chair on the school stage, which could barely sustain him, for he was horizontally challenged. Its four supporting legs literally looked like it was on the brink of snapping as he fidgeted in his chair restlessly.

As a matter of fact, majority of the students detested Mr Oliver not for his overwhelming size, but for his insensitive and acrimonious personality. Students see him as an unapproachable and temperamental teacher and always made an effort to avoid him at all costs. Unexpectedly, he rose from his seat to inform us about a particular error in the test paper. I took the opportunity to contemplate on his actions as I edited my answers simultaneously. His face was lined with stubbles and his hoarse voice indicated his transition into manhood, yet bore the squeaks of an apprehensive child. He stood there twiddling his thumbs.

“Quite insecure for an adult,” I thought to myself with interest.

Soon, Mr Oliver was done informing the students of the error and plopped down onto his miniature chair with a loud thud. In the process, the button above the zipper of his pants abruptly popped out. Subsequently, the zipper snapped open and I let out a muffled snigger. He gritted his teeth in sheer irritation and swallowed his saliva excessively as he muttered curses under his breath. His chubby cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment as his beady eyes darted around wildly to ensure that nobody was aware of this humiliating plight that befallen upon him. Fortunately for him, everyone, except me, was concentrating on their paper as they have not completed it yet. Unaware that I was observing him, he immediately crouched down and fumbled around for his transparent plastic button. As he bent over, the seams at the back of his pants split wide open, revealing something I could not have anticipated.

By then, I was practically falling off my chair and clutching my stomach as I roared with boisterous laughter. In fact, I was chortling so hard that beads of tears streamed down my cheeks.

“Isn't it rather ridiculous for a matured man to be clad in pink underpants with a barbie doll embroidery on it?” I thought with amusement.

Completely oblivious of the surroundings, I became the cynosure of all eyes as some of the students, realising the situation that Mr Oliver was in, let out a suppressed giggle. Somehow, the rest of the students managed to stifle a hysterical laugh. I supposed they were so stressed out by examinations that they were in no mood to laugh.

The next thing I knew, after the examination, I was summoned by my disappointed form teacher to proceed to the principal's office. Subsequently, I was reprimanded for my inappropriate and unacceptable behaviour during the examination. Furthermore, the principal gave me one last warning to refrain from displaying such an impulsive behaviour or else I would receive a zero for the examination, which would in turn would affect my future examination scores as well. However, all this was water off a duck's back to me. Mr Oliver's expression of absolute horror when something went wrong with his pants, was priceless and worth the seemingly endless lecture given by the principal. It would be my source of endless amusement for numerous months to come.

Human Rights by Lim Ruiyi, 5N2

Are developing countries more prone to human rights abuses compared to developed countries?  Discuss.

Written by Lim Ruiyi, 5N2

Developing countries are more prone to human rights abuses compared to developed countries because of the lack of education, and functioning legal systems, and the fact that they are less affected by trade sanctions.

First, people in developing countries have fewer opportunities for education compared to their counterparts in developed countries. They do not know much about the concept of human rights and the fact that they are being abused. As they are less knowledgeable, they are unlikely to stand up against human rights abuses. Moreover, as most people in developing countries are farmers, they do not have the financial capability to fight against human rights abusers who are usually affluent and influential.  Thus, developing countries are generally more susceptible to human rights abuses.

Second, the legal systems in the developing countries may not be functioning as well as that in developed countries as they are often disorganised and corrupted. As mentioned earlier, most people in developing countries are not educated. The legal power is often heavily influenced and controlled by the few rich and educated people. As the government officials may not be well-paid, many resort to taking bribes. In the event that a human rights abuse case goes to the court, the victim is unlikely to have a fair trial as the judge will often rule in favour of a richer person who is often the abuser. Therefore, human rights abuses are likely to remain rampant in developing countries.

Lastly, developing countries are less affected by trade sanctions by other countries that are displeased with their human rights abuses. This is because the economies of developing countries are usually supported by agriculture instead of trade. Hence, they are less affected should any developed country threaten them with trade sanctions for violation of human rights. In such scenarios, developing countries are unlikely to be pressurised enough to stop their human rights abuses.

In conclusion, developing countries are more prone to human rights abuses than developed countries due to the factors aforementioned. The lack of education and functioning legal systems, and the fact that they are less affected by the trade sanctions play a big role in making developing countries more prone to human rights abuses.