Short Stories: Fear of Biking, Swimming, and The Tale of Beauty and the Beast - Essay Example

Fear of Biking It was my first time to ride a bike. I was six years old. Some kids had learned how to ride a bike earlier, but I was afraid. Perhaps,it was because I saw many children falling and bruising their knees. I was afraid of falling and never getting up again. Despite his busy schedule, my father made sure that he would be there to encourage me. I was more afraid than before, more afraid to disappoint him than falling. But he always said, “You can do it! Just try and try.” His smile was warm and assuring. My mother got me worried more sometimes actually. She did not want the slightest bruise or wound in any part of my body. Every time I practiced and almost fell, she would scream, and her scream surprised me. It was a good cloudy windy afternoon at the park. Other kids were already biking, running, and playing around. I tried to bike, and I fell. I cried. I did not want to fall again. I felt like I was such a loser. Other kids biked fine. Why couldn’t I? I tried one more time, and fell again, but father caught me. He told me to not worry or count how many times I fell. He said I should keep on trying and trying. People learn to be the best only because they tried hard and so many times too, he said. I tried again and again. Because of his advice and patience, I realized I was safe and loved. After numerous times, I made it, and I’ve never felt so happy biking. I now know that fears are made by the self. Fears are then conquered by the self. It has to start with the person to conquer all fears. Swimming If there is a sport I loved, it is swimming. There is something about it, the cold water on my skin, the smell of water, the rushing sound of my heart with the waves- everything is perfect when I’m swimming. Who would have known that I almost drowned before? I was five years old, unafraid of the waters, but not yet very skilled in swimming. My family went swimming because it was my birthday, as well as a cousin’s birthday. It was a happy day of celebrations. It was also a family reunion. At the swimming pool, I was at the edge of the pool. My father left me for a few seconds at the stairs of the pool to get something, when I tried to swim. I walked slowly toward the waters, step by step. I felt the water coming close to my neck, but I did not mind. I thought I could swim, but I drowned instead, flapping my arms, going slowly deep into the water silently. I was trying to keep my head up, to breathe outside the waters. But the waters seemed to be eating me slowly. I felt heavy as I began to drink some pool water. My mother jumped into the waters to save me. I was breathless but I did not drink much water yet. All of them were afraid, but not me. I was ready to swim again and I was more determined to learn how to swim. The Tale of Beauty and the Beast Disney changed Beauty and the Beast so much from its earlier story line. I was nine years old when I saw it in theater. It was my first time too, and I enjoyed the glamour of live performance, as if I was there, hundreds of years ago, looking at the Beast and his Beauty. All I knew was the Disney version, but the theater version was so much more realistic. Beauty had a beautiful voice and loved sewing and singing. Her father loved her so much. Her sisters were too cold and materialistic. The Beast was ferocious like an ancient wild animal. Beauty feared him, but she slowly got to know and accept him. They were both shy and needed someone to love them. They became friends, and Beauty developed romantic feelings for the Beast who loved her. When Beast was dying, I was heartbroken. I blamed Beauty for forgetting her promise. She should have kept a schedule or something to keep her promises, I thought before. But of course, the happy ending made me feel better again. When I look back to this day, I feel it was better than 3D because I was really there. In the front row, I felt like one of Beauty’s neighbors or Beast’s visitors. The magic of theater is a beautiful one and it is beastly for me to not watch plays more frequently. The Halloween Costume Contest I was not much of a Halloween kid back then. I found the cute and scary costumes boring. Mother insisted that I joined a Halloween Costume Context one day because she felt she finally made the winning piece. It was a winning scary sight alright. At first, I did not know what Mother wanted. She was unsure of what category I would join. Should it be the cutest, scariest, or colorful costume category? She decided that her strength was on creating something scary than colorful or cute. She worked for a month on my costume, not because it was large or anything, but because she was busy with work, chores, and taking care of us. She put a bit of her time here and there to her sewing of my scariest costume. I was waiting for it. I know I said I was bored, but my mother’s fascination with the costume motivated me to join it. When I saw it, I was so excited. Some kids like scaring people for fun and I was one of them. I wanted to be the scariest of them all. I was six years old, and she made me wear a t-shirt with an alien head coming out of it. Fake bright red blood with fake intestines was spilling out. She painted my face to look like a thin person in pain. We won first place that day, one of the happiest day of my life. Christmas Snowflakes I had not seen snow up close. Every time, when there was snow, we were bundled up inside like babies, warming up in front of the fire, drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows. All I wanted was to go outside, to chill in the snow, making snow angels and tasting ice. My parents went out and left us with a nanny. The nanny fell asleep and my brother and I sneaked out. We went to the backyard. It was snowing hard enough for snow to be thick outside. I saw snowflakes falling on my brother’s head. They were magically beautiful. The snowflakes had different symmetrical shapes. I wondered how God made them so perfectly and beautifully. I thought about clothes with these patterns, as well as houses. I thought about beautiful palaces of snow. And we were in these snowy dreams of mine. I tasted some snow; it tasted like water. I was surprised. It looked so sweet to me. My brother and I made lots of snow angels. They were large and connected to one another. Their hearts were big and connected to each other. They felt cold but they were warm with love. The backyard was full of snow angels when our nanny woke up. She did not know we went out all by ourselves. We were inside back then, sipping hot chocolate with a smile. Our hands felt cold, but our hearts were warm with happiness for our freedom. The Nightmare They always said to not sleep after having a full meal. I was sleepy and my tummy was so full I felt it would break. I slept soundly at first, no dreams yet. However, when I woke up, I couldn’t move my arms. I couldn’t move my whole body! I felt like someone was holding me back. I was so afraid that I was paralyzed because of over-eating. I tried to shout, but I couldn’t move my lips. Inside my head, I was screaming for help. I was wild with fear that froze me to my bed. I moved my sight line around. I saw no one with me. I was more afraid. What if I didn’t wake up? What if no one came to wake me up? I became paranoid. I felt the crush of the world on my breast. I could not breathe. I told myself to calm down. The first thing that I should do was to not panic. I should think about waking up. I started breathing better. I felt myself perspiring. I pushed myself to calm down, to relax. I would wake up very soon, I thought. I just have to be in control. I closed my eyes and prayed to God that I was dreaming. When I opened my eyes, I could move. My tears had fallen by then. I do not eat so much and then sleep afterwards nowadays. One nightmare is enough, two is just too much. Sweet Dreams The loveliest dreams are freeing and sweet. I dream in full color, but many times, I don’t dream at all. One night, I fell asleep while reading a book about a wizard who can’t fly. I dreamt that I was flying, floating so freely and happily in the sky. In my dream, I remembered that I could fly so I said that I’d fly that day. I closed my eyes and I imagined myself floating. I floated little by little, until I reached a few feet above the roof. I flew like superman, and I went around the neighborhood. I went to a rich man’s garden. It was full of flowers. I went to the roses and smelled them from above. They smelled so sweet. I went to other flowers and touched their soft petals. Their softness felt so energizing. They gave me greater power for my flying. Afterwards, I went to the mango trees. They have sleeping birds in their nests. The baby chicks looked so cute. They were huddled under or near their mothers. One mother bird opened its eyes. It looked at me as if angry for disturbing its sleep. I flew away. I flew to a tree of apples and I ate an apple. It was red, sweet, and chunky. I loved it and went to another tree. The apples tasted better and better for each tree. For the last tree, I was so tired that I went to sleep. I woke up and I still smelled like apples. Getting Sick All my family went to Disneyland for the first time, but I could not come because I was sick with measles. I told my family to go and enjoy without me. My Uncle stayed with me. He was sleeping when I started crying for the vacation I did not have. I cried because I wanted to greet Mickey Mouse and his friends. I wanted to meet Disney movie characters. I wanted to shake hands with Beauty and the Beast and take pictures with Cinderella, Snow White, Aurora, and their princes. I cried because I wanted to go to the wild rides. I wanted to go up high in the roller coaster and Ferris wheel. I planned to ride the waters and act like a pirate. I also wanted to feel like royalty and to have magic in my hands. I was going to have it all. I cried because I wanted to eat and eat until my tummy hurt. I wanted to eat new kinds of food. I wanted to share food with my family. We planned to cruise and eat, to taste even what seems gross. I was prepared for a food adventure with wild rides adventures. I cried because my family was all there and I was all alone crying with no one to comfort me. My Uncle was there, but he was tired from work and was asleep. I thought about him without his family because he was with me. I kissed his forehead, and went to sleep. The Black Cat It was a black cat that crossed the street. A girl decided to go around it. The black cat called Mabby was sad. Why do people always avoid him? In the streets when he walked, people whispered and made crossing signs. Why do people hate him? Mabby was a strong and fat cat. He had raven eyes, shining in the night like a bright star. He was a street cat, but an old lady fed him. This old lady was alone in the house. She hardly went out and stayed cleaning the house everyday and doing other chores. Mabby went to her and he licked her feet and hands. She always had milk and food for her. Mabby ate everything. He licked the plate clean. He enjoyed the pats of the old lady. He could say he loved her and she loved him. They were family. One day, the old lady was gone. People were crying at her house. She was put in a long box. Mabby was confused. What is he supposed to do? He did not want to go near the box yet. Something about it felt sad and wrong. Something was wrong and he was sad. Mabby went to the long box where the old lady was. She was in a red dress and smiled. Her eyes were closed. Mabby wanted to wake her up; it’s time to eat. The people shooed him away. Mabby was so sad and alone. He missed the old woman and her food. The White Cat Everyone called her Antsy because she loved playing with ants. She was all white with bright blue eyes. She liked playing with yarn too. She was always having kids, and her kids always went away, but she stayed with us until she was old. Antsy loved painting too. She would put her paws on mud and paint the floors with muddy symbols. Mother would be angry at first, but we all found the paintings nice and funny. Sometimes, I thought that she was painting mother’s angry face. Apart from painting, Antsy loved going out and eating grass. Sometimes, she would prefer grass to cat food. I wondered why. Grass must be bitter and rough to the tongue. She might taste it so sweetly and good for her health too. She loved eating grass all day. Antsy went to the edge of the pool one day and fell in. She was wet and looked so angry, but we laughed at her. She dried up in a few minutes under the sun. She was back to her old playful self. Antsy played with her ants once more, and soon, it was time to eat. One of the best memories of Antsy was her gifts. She’d bring things to the house from places she’d been. Some were pieces of clothes, yarn, or small toys; or paper and metal parts. Of course, every now and then, she’d bring dead mice that made us go “eew.” Beach with Friends It was my first time to go out in the beach with friends. It was three of us, and we went there to make sand castles, swim until we’re exhausted, eat barbecue from the shops, and share crazy stories. It was a great time, one of the happiest times of my life. Sandcastles and swimming are some of the best times. We made little sandcastles that already made us tired. We just wrote our names in stones around them. Then, swimming was the best time. Our skins burnt from swimming during noon, but we didn’t mind at all. We also ate barbecue. I loved chicken barbecue the most. It tasted sweet and had crunchy skin. The meat was moist. It smelled delicious. I liked eating it with rice and salted eggs and tomatoes. I loved eating after a long day of swimming and running around. Afterwards, on the sand, my friends and I shared crazy stories. We sipped coconut water from coconut shells. It was great to be sharing stories and laughing and learning more about each other. Stories make friends better friends. At night, we gazed at the stars. It was fun, just staying silent and doing nothing. We looked at the stars and pointed at constellations that we’re familiar with. We also made new constellations of our own and gave it our names. We were stars that time. Picnic at the Park My first picnic at the park was a happy time. It was my mother’s birthday who wanted to get out for a change. I was six years old. She baked a large chocolate cake and cooked spaghetti, fried chicken, and rice. She also made a garden salad. When we came, my siblings and I played first. Mother and father set up the picnic table. We played at the swing and hide and seek. I was running so fast, I almost fell. I became more careful afterwards. Some families were also there, including friends. It was time to eat; I was so hungry I think I ate in less than two minutes. My mother was laughing, asking me to slow down. She was not used to a large appetite from me. My father wolfed down on his food too. He has a large appetite though, no surprises from him. Afterwards, we flew a kite. It was my father’s surprise for my mother. It had the words “I love you” and had hearts. It was the cheesiest, most romantic kite up there. I could see my mother was pleased. She hugged father and kissed him on his cheeks many times. The wind was blowing hard, and my mother’s kite flew so high. We could not see the words “I love you” anymore. But it was the only red kite with long tails. It was beautiful up there, flying freely. My father let it go, kissed my mother and said, “I love you honey.” The Lazy Spaniel I take my Cocker Spaniel to regular walks. She, however, does not like to walk at all. So basically, our walks mean taking her on a wagon or carrying her, therefore, I do the walking, and she does the queenly part of enjoying it. We all walk, aside from Queenie. She is Queenie, which fits her well. She does not want to walk, so I carry her. If I don’t carry her, she stays frozen in her place. She will not budge at all. She has that look that says, “Carry me, or we will stay here forever.” I don’t know why I spoil her. The Dog Whisperer Cesar Millan will disapprove of my method. Giving in to Queenie’s laziness is similar to telling her that her laziness is acceptable. But what can I do? My whole family spoils her. One time, I decided to be more forceful, and she did nothing. I said, I’ll be Cesar and be firm. I will be the leader of the pack. I will make Queenie follow me through my own strong will. I tried it last month. I told Queenie she will walk. I tugged firmly to make her walk. She stared blankly at me, unmoving. After fifteen minutes, my will broke down. I carried Queenie. I could see Cesar Millan shaking his head. I was not the leader of the pack, Queenie was. I was ashamed of my weakness and lack of confidence in controlling Queenie. Up to now, Queenie rules us all. Changing Schools, Ups and Downs Changing school should be as easy as changing clothes, but it’s not. Instead, it’s almost as hard as changing life itself. This is what changing schools for me feels like- it feels like being a new person and sometimes, losing the old person inside too. The first day is the hardest day. I had no friends, no relatives, no nothing in the new school. It felt like I was an invisible person. People in groups avoided looking at me, as if they were embarrassed for my loneliness and newness. I was embarrassed too. Classes were better. Inside, I could fit into the classes that erased individual and group boundaries. I could write notes and answer exams without feeling lonely. After classes, the breaks and other times, I was alone, so strongly alone, I almost felt like crying. Crying would definitely make me a loser in school, so I tried to make friends. But it was hard to break into cliques or groups. I was a bit silent and shy too. One try and one rejection- they were enough for me to enter my shell and stay hidden inside it. Still, time passed and I was able to make friends. Better to make friends slowly that they will know me and I will know them until trust is formed than making quick friends who are false. It was one of the hardest times in my life, but I learned so much about myself too. Boating It was my first time to ride a boat. I was nine years old and I rode a small boat with my grandfather and father. I was so excited to be bonding with two of the men I loved the most in my life. Boating is a great way to enjoy time without speaking so much. The boat was my grandfather’s. It is called Olympia. It made me think of Mount Olympus and we were on a trip toward a Greek island or in an adventure with Poseidon. My grandpa was more of in charge of the boat, while father and I sat and fished. I had a small fishing rod. My father said that where we were going, there were not many fish, but it was just to pass time because it was a good day to fish. My grandfather said that he was the best fisher in his town before. My father agreed. I waited for hours to catch my fish. The sun pounded on my head and arms. It was very hot. I had my hat on, but still, the heat made my clothes stick to my skin like coals with fire sticking on the barbecue grill. I was feeling impatient already. My father caught his fish, and I was envious already. I wanted to give up, until I caught my fish two hours later. It was quite small, but I loved it! We cooked our fish on the grill and put some salt and pepper on it. My fish tasted the best for me. Vacation on the Lake in New Hamsphire My family went to a vacation in small town near the lake in New Hampshire. It was a quaint log house with cooking, sleeping, and restroom amenities. It was a good hour away from the lake. Walking to the lake was a fun adventure, as well as swimming in it. We stayed here for three days. My mother was anxious because I just recovered from an illness. I said I’d be alright and I’d be sick again if I stayed at home. My father said I needed sunshine, physical activity, and fresh oxygen to make me stronger. Sunshine was plentiful, as well as trees, plants, and physical activity. While walking, my father and mother told stories about their own adventures in the woods and the lake in different parts of the country. They looked so young when they told these stories. My mother is fond of plants and trees, so every now and then, we’d stop and she’d say the name of a plant or tree. She knows many medicinal plants. I listened carefully when she talked about the medicinal uses of plants because you’ll never know when you’ll be lost. My father is good in fishing and swimming. He taught us to be great fishers and swimmers that day. We had fun as we tested different swimming strokes and tried to get fish. Only father caught fish, and we always wondered why. He must be Poseidon’s son. Sledding Sledding is one the most challenging and exciting activities for me. The first time I went sledding was when I was ten years old. During this time, my parents were there with me, because my mother was terrified that I’d be lost and hurt myself. We went to the top of the hill. My father said he chose a slope and snow that would not be too fast for me. I had a long sled so I sat with my legs out in front of me. I pushed my sled off with my hands and held on tight to the sides. I was spinning around sometimes. When I was spinning around, I could feel my mother’s worried eyes on me. But I knew how to get back in control because my father taught me well. I used my feet or moved the sled with my weight to turn right or left. It was fun sliding down faster and faster. I think my father chose one of the fastest slopes. I was sledding so fast I squealed in delight. I enjoyed the fast brushing of air against my skin, the cold wind on my hair, and the smell of pine trees. I felt the wind on my chest and I was cold and happy at the same time. As I neared the ground level, my sled was jerking a bit. I panicked a little because I felt some stones underneath and that I might have had to bail and leave my sled behind. Thankfully, the sled landed smoothly. The snow was white; my mother’s face, whiter. The Old Man We were eating at a family restaurant when the old man came in. He had ragged clothes. His shirt and pants were torn in some parts. He smelled badly too, when he passed us. I thought he was a beggar, but he met someone in a nearby table. I could see them where I sat. The old man stopped a bit. The young man waiting for him at the table smiled. “Hi pops.” The old man didn’t say anything. He sat with his back turned on me. There was tension in his shoulders, like the world was on it. The young man said, “Sorry dad, I couldn’t find you. I thought you went to Uncle Vinnie.” “No, I stayed behind the old house. Someone must take care of it or else it will rot.” “You don’t need to do that pops.” “Where should I live then? Your house?” The young man’s face turned color violet. “No pops, there’s a home in…” The old man answered: “A home? You will put me in a home? Shame on me for being independent and then live in a home. Just buy me some food and I will be off and leave you for good.” The young man gave him a paper bag and the old man left. My parents might have listened to them too. They looked silent and sad. I whispered, after the young man left, “You will stay with me when you’re both old and smelly.” They laughed. I was six years old. The Bully The first bully in my life appeared in pre-school. I was in nursery and he was the oldest and biggest among us. He had scabs on his skin from scratching them and he smelled bad because his teeth were rotting. He took our lunches when no one was looking. His name was Jack, Jack the Smelly Giant, we used to say. One time, Aliyah did not give her lunchbox. He kicked her on the shin. She cried and told teacher about it, and she just said: “Do it one more time Jack, and you will no longer step on this school.” Jack did things anyway. He was just very good in doing it outside the radars of our teachers. He’d punch some students, or trip them. Always, he’d take someone’s lunch. He was angry and hungry. He was a mean beast. I wanted to teach him a lesson. One time, I was waiting for my mother to pick me up, but she was late. I went to the park near the school. I saw Jack with his father. He slapped Jack’s face, once, twice, and shook him hard. Jack was not moving or crying. He looked absent-minded. The next day, I told Jack, “Here, have my lunch.” He got angry: “I don’t want your lunch!” It was strange. He whispered: “I saw you. You saw me. If you tell anyone, they’d take me away from my dad, and he’ll kill my mom.” I was afraid for Jack ever since. The First Spicy Food I hated spicy food before. But I figured one day that I might as well learn how to appreciate them because most of my family members loved eating spicy food. I loved sushi, so I thought it would be nice to eat it with wasabi, my first taste of spiciness. Wasabi is horse radish, an angry spice, as I would describe it. We went to a Japanese restaurant and ordered tuna sashimi. I was ready for the angry spice. I put enough wasabi on the soy sauce, and added lemon. I dipped a piece of tuna in it. I swirled the tuna around, the green wasabi dissolved in the soy sauce. The greenness was meanness of spice turned blackish-green. I could smell the spiciness. I put it quickly in my mouth and the spice attacked me like an angry bull with horns in my nose. I felt the rush going up to my nose, quickly to my head. The spice travelled upwards, while also staying in my mouth. I was crying and laughing. It was actually a great experience to be eating spicy food this way. The spice was clearing my nose, my mind. I thought that the spice burnt my brain dry, like fire that ate my mind. I loved eating spicy foods afterwards because it was such a crazy experience. I prefer wasabi though than usual cayenne and other kinds of chili. Wasabi makes me speechless and breathless. Read More