“When I was eighteen, I couldn’t wait to get out of that town”. Write a short story in which a young character is eager to leave home.
#625Lab. Corrected by an experienced examiner, graded as 85/100 with feedback on how to improve below. You may also like: Leaving Cert English Complete Guide (€).
I walked towards my school under the harsh June sun, frantically reciting formulae. This was it, my final exam, my last obstacle between me and leaving to university- Applied Maths. I creaked open the large wooden doors as I walked towards my exam hall. Each of my footsteps reverberated throughout the once lively husk of a school. When I reached there, I found my friend Niamh standing there, her golden locks reflecting the sunlight from a nearby window.
“Hey!” I said to her enthusiastically, “Let’s go get our H2’s and leave here!”
“Sure, let’s go in now, I hate waiting about,” she said, meekly and morosely.
We walked in and took our seats. Then, the invigilator slid the scissors along the plastic packed (packet); the sound echoing around the room. The clock ticked, ticked, ticked as the pink papers (Nice use of alliteration to decorate your adjectives, verbs and nouns) were given out. Everyone shuffled pens and calculators around, getting in position.
“You may begin…” the invigilator announced as he, just like us, intently watched as the minute hand inched towards the time, second by second, “…Now!”
What ensued after was a flurry of equations and questionable diagrams, a horrible mixture of arithmetic and fear. After the exam, I saw Niamh rubbing her jumper’s forearms as she stared off into space.
“How’d you find it? I’m guessing an easy H2? Maybe even an H1?” I said, trying to cheer her up.
“You’re too positive Colm!” She said trying to hide her smile, “Anyways, it’s out of our hands until August…”
We then made our way down to the river, passing by a newsagent for two 99’s. The old woman there made them extra-large and told us how great we were for finishing our exams. We found a small plot of grass by the sapphire blue water, as I turned to look at her equally blue eyes.
“So crazy to think it has been a whole year isn’t it? Even crazier how I didn’t even know you before it started,” I said, looking at our distorted reflections in the water. (You have not clarified clearly what “it” is, the story moves in such a way that it is not essential to the rest of the plot. It might cause the result to be marked down if the examiner re-reads the story.)
“Yeah, after moving I was scared I’d be all alone, but I’m glad I met you. At least when I go to university in America, you’re coming too…” She said smiling.
Just like the river flowed, so too did the time. The sun slowly drifted below the horizon as we got up and dusted ourselves off, laughing about how we won’t need a uniform again. (Lovely phrasing which sets a positive and peaceful tone to the story – well done!) By the time we reached her house, the moon loomed overhead, as the once hot day became frigid. We said goodbye and made the usual promises of keeping in contact until her father barged out.
“What have you been doing young missy?!” He barked at her, grabbing her forearm. (The use of pathetic fallacy from the turn of weather from hot to frigid, coupled with the verbs “barged” and “barked” make for an excellent introduction to Niamh’s abusive father.)
As she obediently followed him, she turned around and gestured goodbye before the door was shut. Shocked, I walked home wondering why he acted like that to her. As I walked in to our house, my father laughed, announcing my arrival. My mother dragged me to the dining table. As she ladled gravy and spuds onto the roast prepared in front of me, I was attacked by numerous questions about my day. Afterwards I thanked my mum, to which my dad replied;
“Give the boy the recipe already, he’s dying to leave us!”
“Ah Barry, cut out that nonsense” my mother retorted in a scolding manner.
Amidst my exams and such, I never truly realised how much I’d miss my family.
Before I knew it, I was getting my picture taken with Niamh; me in a suit and her in a sleeved dress with her corsage, my azure tie matching her dress . (Make a more direct connection for the change in location).
“Say cheese!” the photographer laughed as we posed with our friends Garry and Clare.
After the flash, we returned into the party in full swing, Niamh and I interlocked by our arms. We made our way to the bar and brought our drinks to where the other two were sitting. We laughed and joked as the night passed on, slowly feeling the effects of alcohol. Then, the rewards came, with us only coming in second as cutest couple in the year. (Consider revision: “the rewards came, with us only coming in second..” is phrased awkwardly.)
“Ah for goodness sake(,) are they mad?! How didn’t you two win?” Clare said, fuming more than us.
Garry made a sad expression as if his love for Clare was unrequited (Consider an alternative to “unrequited”; it does not fit comfortably in this context). Then we all laughed as I hugged Niamh.
“Aww see, that’s what we’re missing! They’re sooo precious!” Clare squealed, poking Garry. We laughed again, except this time something was different- something was missing.
“Uhm, I h-have to go now,” Niamh whispered into my ear, her face deadly serious.
Before I could protest, she lept (leapt) out of her seat and made a mad dash not to the bathroom, but the reception. I looked to Garry and Clare, both like deers in a headlight, and then nearly instinctively began to run after her. I pushed through the sea of black suits and dresses on the dance floor fixated on her blue dress. Despite being in heels, she was quite fast. I made a mad dash to the entrance door. Outside, her hair and dress glimmered in the moonlight as her dress bounced in rhythm to her steps. Before she could reach the taxi waiting for her, I grabbed her sleeve tight.
“Niamh, what’s wro-…” I began, until time seemed to stop. Each thread at her shoulder unravelled one by one until finally a loud rip was heard. Then the cloth drifted to the ground, displaying the big bruises on her arm. She turned to me, her eyes full of tears, as she stumbled nervously into the taxi.
“Where did she go?” Garry asked, both he and Clare out of breath.
I just stood there trying to comprehend what I had just saw; this bare truth.
The rest of the summer passed by as that scene replayed in my head. What caused the bruises? Is that why she always covered her arms? (Good use of rhetorical questioning here – well done!) She became a recluse for the rest of the summer and ignored all my messages. Suddenly Results Day came, and after picking up my brown envelope, I scoured the school for her. I eventually found her down a dark draughty hallway alone.
“Oh Colm… I had hoped you’d forgotten about me,” she said looking at me from the ground.
“I could never forget about you, especially after what I saw. We also promised to open our results together” I said, as I sat down beside her, trying to calm her, “What happened? You can tell me,” I said, putting my hand on her arm gently.
“Well, no point in hiding it now… My father… He… Abuses me,” She stammered, suddenly clenching her fist, “M-me, his p-p-p-precious angel.”
How didn’t I put it all together? I then asked why she never told me.
“Because, he said if I told anyone, my younger sister ‘would be in for it’. My plan was to go to America and bring my sister there. Then, with her safe, I could finally report him. That’s why I was so eager to leave home.” She said through tears.
“Well here’s our ticket out of here,” I said, raising my envelope.
We both peeled the flap back and slid the paper out, saying each grade, subject by subject in unison;
“H1, H2, H1, H1, H2, aaand-…” We stopped
“H2!” I blurted.
“…H3”, Niamh mumbled.
“H3?! That’s surely a mistake!” I yelled, “Maybe you should appeal it, or tell the university the situation, or-“
“No, stop. I knew it didn’t go so well. He made nasty comments all morning, reminding me how I need a H2 for my place and my scholarship, stressing I wouldn’t get any help from him. When I told him I was sick of it, smack… Damn him,” her words hung in the air as she gritted her teeth.
As we walked out, me holding her hand as she sobbed, I tried to console her. A gruff voice then greeted us.
“Get here you!” her dad said, emerging left of the front door as he grabbed her arm tightly.
“Niamh, no!” I shouted as he pushed me to the ground. He shoved her into the car as I watched as helpless as her.
“Not get your grades huh? Well, don’t worry, at least this way I can finance you for another year,” (The meaning of “finance” is unclear. It is obviously sinister but a more direct phrasing may be more effective, especially as we are coming to the end of the essay.) He said cruelly smirking, his words dripping with malice.
Just like that he sped off, leaving me fretting for my best friend. What would happen to her?
| Grading | |
| P | 26 / 30 |
| C | 24 /30 |
| L | 26 / 30 |
| M | 9 / 10 |
| Total | 85 / 100 |
| Grade | H2 |
Image: Anthony Tran via Unspash
