Creative Nonfiction Class: First Exercise
At the end of our first meeting in my Creative Writing class, our prof gave us an assignment:- Write the opposite concept of the following words: cake, kiss, train, green and wall. Explain each in one sentence.
- Use any of the following in a 100-word essay: a ringing phone, a broken/unmoving clock, a sealed envelope, a pet, an unidentifiable sound, a boy in sneakers.
- Write the City in 100 words.
I find this exercise really interesting and exciting. I think this exercise is not graded, it's a sort of a diagnostic test to gauge our writing skills.
Here's what I submitted for this exercise, what do you guys think? :)
Opposites
· kiss
: pass by – To kiss someone requires physical contact and sentiments of
some sort while
to pass by someone doesn’t require any.
· green
: gray – Green equates to life while gray, for me, is anything lifeless.
· train
: unimaginative mind - Trains transport you to places; an unimaginative
mind does not.
· cake
: sad faces – Cakes are must-haves in just about any kind of celebration
while sad faces are definitely
what you shouldn’t bring in celebrations.
· wall
: road – Roads were made to enable movement from one place to another;
whereas walls were made as a means to block
something.
A Broken Clock
I’m
walking along this familiar street again, known to me ever since my first
memory of walking beyond the limits of our house gate. On this particular
morning, on my way to a nearby sari-sari store,
I passed by a familiar looking child, holding a broken wall clock while
rummaging the insides of a neighbor’s garbage can. Minutes later, on my way
back home, I saw people crowding around the place where the child has been. I
learned soon enough that the child died, hit by a stray bullet. Now, it’s been
three months since I’ve last walked that street.
City
As
the jeepney drove along the infamous killer high way, I see men in blue
stopping a speeding bus, alternating views of greens and man-made structures,
and people pushing each other, racing for their ride back home. I hear barkers
shouting their throats out in exchange for some spare change, and the
repetitive chants of “Litex, Manggahan, Ever”. I smell the day’s worth of work
from me and from my fellow riders inside the jeepney. Back home, I run my
finger along the dust on our car’s window. I resist the urge to scrawl my name
on the city’s dirt.
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