ihatetestz
Member
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2007
- Messages
- 35
- Gender
- Male
- HSC
- 2009
Guys i have a creative writing assessment 2moro and this is the only thing ive prepared from before. i got 9 / 15 for this.
Any suggestions for the plot or any suggestions at all highly appreciated as im stressing out and dont know what to do to improve / fix it.
Today marks my Third birthday celebrating my new life , the life that was suppose to bring success ad happiness, the life that was supposed to be a paradise where I could live in peace. I celebrate this day the same as I celebrate any other, knowing that I have no reason to live. I escaped my war torn country to come to a better place, the land of opportunity where I could do something with my life and maybe even start a family who would live a safe live. I started my journey to Australia with so much excitement but little did I know I was on a one way trip to living hell.
I never heard the terrifying stories about Australia; all I was told was that it would be a land of beautiful beaches and stunning scenery. No one told me that I it would be my full time prison, the beaches replaced by fences and barbed wire. Come to think of it, I can’t even look outside at the horizon thanks to the special designed prison that makes us feel right at home.
Home – how can I forget how my life was ruined over there. I was like any other young, free and trying to make a living. Fresh out of school I was so proud of myself for finding a job so quickly. In a land were so many are unemployed for me it was a god sent. My income helped my family pay the rent and also left me with some money to get some good clothes and other luxuries many of my friends could only dream of. Life was looking really good for me. I was loving every second, every second till the last few, after that it was a nightmare – but I didn’t wake up.
I woke up, just like any other day knowing that I am useless. I had dazed off in the prison yard. I call it prison because that’s exactly what it was masked by the better sounding “Detention Center” title. In this prison I am nothing but a dead man. There is no reason for me to wake in the morning because I know I will just waste another day. All I can do is remember how things use to be before it all changed and when I’m not doing that I just sleep, hoping time will pass and this will all be over. Time, it really is relative because it seems to me I have been here for an eternity. For others it has only been three years. Thousands of hours have gone by and nothing has changed. Three years have been taken away from me. Three years were I could be working somewhere, living life like everyone else. What harm can I cause?. I am a refugee not a murderer, just another human being, I haven’t committed any crimes.
Crime –It got me into this whole mess. The god sent job I had found was driving a delivery truck for a small business. It was a very simple job and payed very well because who likes sitting in the traffic all day long. All I had to do was pick up TV’s for repair from customers and drop them off when the job was done. I worked hard for a year in this job and the boss was very fond of me. I wouldn’t muck around like the other workers I would go and come straight back.
A few months after my first year I turned up to work one day and everything was gone. The shop was empty, no signs, and no equipment. I remember calling my boss and my colleges all of which were nowhere to be found. I asked so many people that worked close by and no one knew what I was talking about. What TV shop they would say.
Not knowing what was going on I got back into the van and started my long drive home. It felt so awkward driving a van that belonged to a company that was now nonexistent. Deeply confused I thought nothing of it and went home to get some rest.
The next morning my parents had woke me up. The look on their face I will never forget. My mum was crying and my dad was shaking me telling me what I had done.”This is the simple job you have been doing, Dealing drugs?, you bring shame to the family “. After a few minutes I finally found out what they were saying. I was on the news, wanted as the leader of a drug trafficking gang with a bounty on my head. I was outraged. How had this happened, I told my family that this was not true and I knew nothing of it. That’s when I knew I had to go. I had to leave before I was thrown in prison for something I had nothing to do with. My parents handed me all the money they had and we said our goodbyes, just like that. In 30 minutes with only the clothes on my back and my family’s life savings I was out the door, gone forever, destination unknown. I’ll never forget the cry’s of my mother and the look on my father’s face.
The smugglers told me about Australia, the land of opportunity and I was sold. Handing over all the money I had my journey had started. One last look at my home land and that was it , 4 months on a rocking boat till we reached the land of’ freedom’ , my new prison.
That’s how it happened. My efforts to escape being thrown into prison had ironically sent me to another prison. Both of which were for doing nothing wrong. I abandoned my home, my family , my life and in return Australia did the same. No one will explain why us refugees are abandoned, put in a box and isolated from everyone else. No one cares about the things we have been through and the suffering that we have sustained. I would rather be in that prison at home then in this ‘temporary prison’. Their things would be for certain, I would know that I have a sentence to serve. Here my life is consumed by constant uncertainty, I don’t know when I will be release, or why I am rejected being released. No one answers my questions, no one cares. Why would they care they can go home to their family and have a good night’s sleep knowing they are free. I don’t have that luxury.
The only reason I am still alive is I cling onto the stories of a better place, I hope to one day be free of this prison and be able to live a normal life. I dream one day I will see my family again and show them that I am now safe and happy. Until that day I sit here just the same as a prisoner of war, waiting and rotting as my youth is taken from me.
I no longer have a home which I was forced to abandon and will never get back. Here I am a foreigner, different in many ways and still unaccepted. I know one day I will finally be free, it might be one year – maybe five years but the day will come. I wonder will I ever be the same.
Any suggestions for the plot or any suggestions at all highly appreciated as im stressing out and dont know what to do to improve / fix it.
Today marks my Third birthday celebrating my new life , the life that was suppose to bring success ad happiness, the life that was supposed to be a paradise where I could live in peace. I celebrate this day the same as I celebrate any other, knowing that I have no reason to live. I escaped my war torn country to come to a better place, the land of opportunity where I could do something with my life and maybe even start a family who would live a safe live. I started my journey to Australia with so much excitement but little did I know I was on a one way trip to living hell.
I never heard the terrifying stories about Australia; all I was told was that it would be a land of beautiful beaches and stunning scenery. No one told me that I it would be my full time prison, the beaches replaced by fences and barbed wire. Come to think of it, I can’t even look outside at the horizon thanks to the special designed prison that makes us feel right at home.
Home – how can I forget how my life was ruined over there. I was like any other young, free and trying to make a living. Fresh out of school I was so proud of myself for finding a job so quickly. In a land were so many are unemployed for me it was a god sent. My income helped my family pay the rent and also left me with some money to get some good clothes and other luxuries many of my friends could only dream of. Life was looking really good for me. I was loving every second, every second till the last few, after that it was a nightmare – but I didn’t wake up.
I woke up, just like any other day knowing that I am useless. I had dazed off in the prison yard. I call it prison because that’s exactly what it was masked by the better sounding “Detention Center” title. In this prison I am nothing but a dead man. There is no reason for me to wake in the morning because I know I will just waste another day. All I can do is remember how things use to be before it all changed and when I’m not doing that I just sleep, hoping time will pass and this will all be over. Time, it really is relative because it seems to me I have been here for an eternity. For others it has only been three years. Thousands of hours have gone by and nothing has changed. Three years have been taken away from me. Three years were I could be working somewhere, living life like everyone else. What harm can I cause?. I am a refugee not a murderer, just another human being, I haven’t committed any crimes.
Crime –It got me into this whole mess. The god sent job I had found was driving a delivery truck for a small business. It was a very simple job and payed very well because who likes sitting in the traffic all day long. All I had to do was pick up TV’s for repair from customers and drop them off when the job was done. I worked hard for a year in this job and the boss was very fond of me. I wouldn’t muck around like the other workers I would go and come straight back.
A few months after my first year I turned up to work one day and everything was gone. The shop was empty, no signs, and no equipment. I remember calling my boss and my colleges all of which were nowhere to be found. I asked so many people that worked close by and no one knew what I was talking about. What TV shop they would say.
Not knowing what was going on I got back into the van and started my long drive home. It felt so awkward driving a van that belonged to a company that was now nonexistent. Deeply confused I thought nothing of it and went home to get some rest.
The next morning my parents had woke me up. The look on their face I will never forget. My mum was crying and my dad was shaking me telling me what I had done.”This is the simple job you have been doing, Dealing drugs?, you bring shame to the family “. After a few minutes I finally found out what they were saying. I was on the news, wanted as the leader of a drug trafficking gang with a bounty on my head. I was outraged. How had this happened, I told my family that this was not true and I knew nothing of it. That’s when I knew I had to go. I had to leave before I was thrown in prison for something I had nothing to do with. My parents handed me all the money they had and we said our goodbyes, just like that. In 30 minutes with only the clothes on my back and my family’s life savings I was out the door, gone forever, destination unknown. I’ll never forget the cry’s of my mother and the look on my father’s face.
The smugglers told me about Australia, the land of opportunity and I was sold. Handing over all the money I had my journey had started. One last look at my home land and that was it , 4 months on a rocking boat till we reached the land of’ freedom’ , my new prison.
That’s how it happened. My efforts to escape being thrown into prison had ironically sent me to another prison. Both of which were for doing nothing wrong. I abandoned my home, my family , my life and in return Australia did the same. No one will explain why us refugees are abandoned, put in a box and isolated from everyone else. No one cares about the things we have been through and the suffering that we have sustained. I would rather be in that prison at home then in this ‘temporary prison’. Their things would be for certain, I would know that I have a sentence to serve. Here my life is consumed by constant uncertainty, I don’t know when I will be release, or why I am rejected being released. No one answers my questions, no one cares. Why would they care they can go home to their family and have a good night’s sleep knowing they are free. I don’t have that luxury.
The only reason I am still alive is I cling onto the stories of a better place, I hope to one day be free of this prison and be able to live a normal life. I dream one day I will see my family again and show them that I am now safe and happy. Until that day I sit here just the same as a prisoner of war, waiting and rotting as my youth is taken from me.
I no longer have a home which I was forced to abandon and will never get back. Here I am a foreigner, different in many ways and still unaccepted. I know one day I will finally be free, it might be one year – maybe five years but the day will come. I wonder will I ever be the same.
