SHORT STORIES

This page carries short stories written by my O'level students over the past 12 sessions I have taught. I am publishing them for the guidance of all students who wish to know what an A/A* graded should comprise.

Please note that copying these stories verbatim for an exam or assignment is strictly forbidden. It is sheer PLAGIARISM, and holds high penalty. Therefore, read these stories and try to use your own imagination to create similarly interesting plots. You may observe sentence-structures, paragraphing and variety in the use of vocabulary and expression, and improve your own level of writing.

GoodLuck.
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BY: UMAIR BUTT ( 2011)

TOPIC:  ESCAPE        
  
“No mother!.” I paced in my room. Fury was boiling inside me. This was unbelievable! My parents had sealed my fate without even asking me?
Mother charged in . “Why ?what is wrong with Alice? Your father and I have agreed to this decision and it will be better that you stop being fussy about this. It is decided !” and she stomped out of the room slamming the door. 
This had gone long enough; it had to stop now . 

My parents had always made the important decisions of my life, but now it was the matter of my life partner. Shouldn’t they have at least asked me? I had never felt like that about Alice ever. This could not happen . Did they want two lives to suffer- just to please them? Eversince I could remember, this was the standard rule of our house;  I was always directed – from what  I should wear to what I should study. Where to go, when to go, when to come back, who to meet, who not to meet... my life was like a robot. I only obeyed. I did not ask questions. I did not refuse an order. But now I had started feeling suffocated. I wanted to fly off to a world where I could take my own decisions - myself.

There was a plethora of ideas rushing wildly through my mind: Should I run away from the house and never return? Was that the only way I could escape this imminent death of all my hopes, my wishes? My mind suddenly snapped  and I dashed to the hall.
Enjoying his usual cup of coffee, my father was seated with my mother.  
“I want to tell you something that has been in my heart for years.” I gathered my courage and stammered out. Everything I had wanted to say came rushing out in torrents – the right to make my own decisions, the right to choose who I wanted to marry, the right to accept, the right to reject – the unfairness and injustice they had inflicted upon me, cloaked in the garb of parental love and concern; "I will not take it anymore." I babbled on, afraid to stop for a minute, and finally ran out of words.The old sofa creaked as my father got up, enraged “Why are you brewing a storm in a tea cup?” he hollered at me. The words that left my mouth were unbelievable for myself too. “I have told you my decision.” Whispering vehemently, I went back to my room.

I felt relief wash over me. My parents' voices drifted out as they repeatedly argued , shocked at my sudden outburst. After an hour I was called back to the hall and ordered to sit down ; the universe seemed to stand still . My mother burst into tears while my father did not utter a word; he just glared at the floor. His lips moved after a while “Look son… we regret that you have been hurt for so long, but it was all unintentional. We just wanted our son to be perfect  and in this obsession we totally overshadowed your feelings. Forgive us.” Father stood up and hugged me while my mother just sat there and cried like a baby. Touched to the core, I couldn’t resist  crying myself.

Finally, I  had escaped … yes ... escaped from the cage in which I had been trapped for years.

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BY: TALHA TANVEER  (2012)

TOPIC: RACE AGAINST TIME

My heart missed a beat. What were they talking about? Was it really going to happen? I stood transfixed. The voices of the doctors drifted out into the silence of the night .
The words echoed and re-echoed in my mind, " I am very sorry to inform you that we need to operate as soon as possible, otherwise it will be too late . She is in a critical situation."

Aunt Sana had had a heart attack - a severe heart attack. The reports said that she needed to have a heart transplant . The complication that worried me was that I had both shortage of time and money. My aunt was my only companion in the world. I stood there, dumbstruck. I could not figure out what to do.

Pressure of the upcoming situation mounted to a pitch.I started seeing myself utterly helpless-which I surely was at that moment. Time was running as fast as flowing water; the doctor kept on warning me : "The patient cannot wait for too long you have to hurry up." Rushing to the bank, my manager and friends, I requested each of them for the loan. But in vain. The strain was unbearable. Time was running out.

My muscles were tensed so to relax myself I just closed my eyes and thought about what I should do. After all I could not just sit and wait for a miracle to happen? I had learnt very early in life that  miracles did not happen.You had to make them happen. Aunt had always showered her tender love on to me and for me she was my mother, father ... my entire family. And now it was my turn. Realizing this was a race against time, I could not resist bursting into tears.

But what shall I do? Now the walls of the room seemed to be closing in on me. A plethora of ideas rushed wildly through my mind. Finally, I came to a very decision : The house had to be sold. The house in which Aunt Sana and I had lived for years and which was the most precious thing ever for both of us. Yes...that was the only option left, no matter what the consequences might be. I wept,wailed, and hollered at my helplessness.But the decision was made.  What would I do with bricks and walls, if my aunt was not there to make a home of it?

My neighbours were quick to find a buyer and within two days the house was sold. For the last time I revived my memories in the house. They were enough to fill me up for a lifetime. Little had I known when I entered that house, holding on to my aunt's sleeve, that one day I would have to sell it to save her life. The house in which I had spent my childhood, my adulthood, was not mine anymore. But what did it matter? My aunt  would be there for me now. Forever. 

Locking the door silently, I slipped out into the darkness of the night. All was not lost. I had won the race against time.

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BY: SAAD AFZAL (2011)

Topic: Its probably too late, but at least we can try

My weary eyes wandered from one direction to the other as I searched for any signs of help.  Desperate attempts at finding a way out failed and I crouched back, letting out a huge sigh - 'I give up'. The strong wind was whistling through the air and the scorching heat relentlessly bore down on us.

"It's all your fault'', Ali's face was scarlet with rage. “We wouldn't have been in such a pathetic situation if you hadn't persuaded us to explore this desert with 'you' as our 'so-called- experienced- leader!''

''I am experienced all right'' Muhammad was keen to prevent a quarrel. I had a feeling that most of us ( except me) were more envious than angry of  Muhammad's leader ship. In such a situation it would be best that I remained silent. Any word from my side could start the very fight that Muhammad was trying to ignore.

''We head north'', Muhammad's voice was as firm as ever .A huge sand hill blocked further progress. Muhammad tried to climb it and he succeeded. Others followed him but the camels weren’t so lucky. One of them slid and fell on its side squashing a few containers of water that were jewels to us. Muhammad rushed downhill with his knife and slashed at the rope to detach the containers but they had already spilled their contents. A dreadful thought struck me: we are stranded in this desert- without water

Muhammad knew the situation was getting brittle and out of hand. He began to address the others “ I know it’s a terrible loss but if we keep moving…”

“Keep moving? Have you lost your senses? WE ARE LOST!”

“Its probably too late but at least we can try”, I joined in because I knew that if there was any hope it was Muhammad. He nodded in agreement. We set off once more searching a way out. I knew Muhammad would bend over backwards to make us reach home but he was helpless. Though I’m uncertain about that because his expression didn’t show much. In fact, it was quite unfathomable.

Far in the distance the mirage attracted us like magnets. Muhammad kept us warned of all such traps. Every now and then we were tempted to lie down and fall asleep but Muhammad restrained us from doing so. Suddenly he halted and sniffed the air. All of us thought he had gone crazy but he didn’t stop doing it. His pace slowed down, his steps became short, more precise, more calculated.

He pointed with his outstretched finger and before us lay a lake, shimmering invitingly under the desert sun. Everyone was surprised at this find and the same time delighted at the prospect of a refreshing drink. They were charged up with new energy and so was Muhammad, with new vigour. I thumped his back “You really proved yourself. You really did.”

“We’ll reach home soon enough” his eyes sparkled with determination.

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    BY: SAAD AFZAL ( 2012)

  TOPIC: ‘I had the world all to myself that early morning. The country side as I walked through it was deserted and still’  Continue the story…

I had the world all to myself that early morning. The countryside as I walked through it was deserted and still. The roads were noise free - hushed to silence. The small windows of the lovely cottages in the distance were covered with curtains as if they were shy of me. It looked as if the whole countryside was fast  asleep. Nonetheless I felt mighty in this loneliness and soon discovered that I was not completely alone after all.

On the other side of the canal I spotted a boy crouching beside the field. I waved at him but he didn’t wave back. In fact he simply broke eye contact with me and shifted his gaze away. His behavior seemed a little awkward to me but I walked on, soon forgetting all about him.

Next morning I saw the boy again, but this time he sat in front of a doorstep. His face was grey with gloom. The door creaked open and a fat woman came out. She took out a rolled newspaper, whacked it onto the boy’s head and slammed the door behind him. He let out a huge sigh. Feeling pity for him I decided to go across the canal to visit him.

When I was close enough I reached out for a handshake. Not surprisingly he didn’t respond. I had some bread with me and thought of sharing but he quickly snatched it all and ate it hungrily. Bits and chunks flew as he chewed at it with incredible speed. I was amazed. It seemed he had been starving for years.

“Go away” he finally spoke to me. I asked him the reason for his agitated behavior and somehow managed to make him talk  openly. He explained that the old woman was his stepmother and  treated him with pure hatred. She did not let him sleep in her apartment. He simply imagined the doorstep his cushion and resigned himself to living there. My eyes were pricked with tears and I invited him to shift to my house.

Four days had passed and the smile that had deserted  his face sparkled anew. I was more than glad to provide him all the facilities he required and took him on a walk to the nearest park one day. On the way we passed the apartment he had lived in earlier. Piercing cries of pain were heard from the open window. I ignored them and walked on but he took hold of my arm and halted. ‘Listen’, he seemed very curious.

“Oh God please return my son to me. I will never be harsh to him. Never again.”

He let go off my hand and  rang the doorbell frantically. The woman came out and hugged him desperately.

“I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive mom. Nothing . I’m home”  His eyes sparkled like jewels.

I felt a pang of sadness at his departure but the delight the reunion gave me filled me with profound happiness.

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