If I fail Electronics this semester it's because of Mrs Nua. I wouldn't be missing out on the valued information that is Electronics if it wasn't for the "subtle" pressure to post something. But anyway, this is a memoir we were assigned to write for English Ad. (Language may slightly offend. But probably not. So this very sentence is wasting your time. Okay go read now.)
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He stood there. Watching. I stood there. About to crap my lavalava. "They probably locked him up," she says. "Dad will be outside" she says. I didn't dare to even gulp, let alone move. There was no way I was risking anything, especially with him. 'Pleeeeaaaaaaaase Lord. I'll do it another time. Please, just not now,' I internally cried. 'So this is it. This is how it ends. A church carpark. Alone.' I allowed myself one shaky breath out. 'Lord please don't let me die like this." As if hearing my pathetic plead, the malicious bastard practically galloped towards me. 'Why thank you Universe!'
Stupid tears begin to blur my vision, ruining my staunch appearance. I tightened my buttocks in a weak attempt to stop crying. 'Why did I have to walk down? I'm a girl, I'm not meant to even be walking around at this time.' While I stood there feeling sorry for my self, Mr. I'mMeantToBeLockedUp encircled my pathetic excuse of a defensive stance. I contemplated calling for help, but if anyone was to hear the faintest of my plea, it would be the minister. Then again he would probably be so engrossed in the new X Factor episode to hear.
Sniffing the air, the fat lump of hair's attention recabrilated to a corner of the carpark, where some small rodent crashed about. I don't think I'd ever been so thankful for rats before. Hope now present, but still miniscule. With his back now turned to me, I took this opportunity to attempt a sprint back home. Back to those ghastly two people. Feeding me false information, practically endangering my life. My mum and brother. I dared to step backwards, the heel of my jandal slapping against the cold rubble. 'No one will even see you,' she says, 'just wear the jandals' she says. The sound echoed through the carpark, not really helping my case. At all.
Any form of hope diminished the milli-second his ears perked up. He whirled around charging full speed at me. Barking, teeth bared, eyes burning - the works. I screamed pathetically when I realised I was basically going to die. I hadn't even been in a school production yet. I heard him whimper but didn't bother to stop, he was probably just trying to trick me. Another whimper and I dared to glance over my shoulder, out of breath. I was shocked really. No, not that Caesar had now sat watching me intently, and not trying to kill me. Someone had stopped him. The world no longer had the possibility of suffering the grief aspect of my amazingness being absent.
My minister called out, smiling and patting the dog,
"Call out next time!"
