I should have listened to them
My parents have always discouraged me from lying, but I never did listen to them. They always thought that I would end up as a crook of some sort. Especially Ma. She always told me how she would disown me if I were ever convicted of some villainous act.
Today, I make my living by a vile profession.
I remember how it had all started. I was in junior school then, and I had broken a vase in the school garden. On recollection, a vase on display in the school garden could not have cost very much, but I was young then and everything was expensive to me. There was also the problem of studying in an English-style boarding school, where the discipline masters were unreasonably harsh and their caning skills incredibly well-honed. Or so I had been told.
With no intention of finding out the truth of the stereotype, I withdrew from the scene of the crime, thankful that no one had seen me.
I then proceeded to create an alibi. I went on to delibrately create a scene in the cafeteria, letting all the coins in my wallet drop to the ground. Yes, I know it was not the best of scenes to create, but I was only nine then. Anyway, it served its purpose. A total of three other students noticed me. I know. I counted.
Today, I am forced to create alibis on a monthly basis.
The next day, the much-afeared discipline master made an appearance during assembly.
“Does anyone here have anything to do with the broken vase in the garden? If so, I suggest he own up immediately.”
The discipline master had a disconcerting habit of clawing a nearby smooth surface while he spoke. I was trying to avoid the image of myself being the one clawed. Yet, I kept silent.
With the usual threats of punishment if no one confessed, the discipline master dismissed the school. I got away with the crime, scot-free.
On further hindsight, my attempt to create an alibi was totally useless, not to mention poor, as no discipline master would check through the hundreds of students just to find out who had broken a cheap vase. The damage had been done, however. I discovered, or thought I had, that you can be proven innocent of a crime with the proper techniques, dishonesty being foremost of them.
I should have listened to them. Ma was right.
Today, I am a lawyer.
16-year-old writer’s commentary:
Extremely disappointing piece. When I typed through it, I discovered many places where I could have improved the style of writing, not to mention the content. Well, exam conditions. My excuse. And in an examination which -mattered-, as in well it decides whether or not I get into the JC of my choice. Well, this is one of the papers which does so anyway.
As you can see most of the story was redundant. I even said so toward the end. Well, not so explicitly, but I may as well have. The whole thing was meant to build up the idea that ‘I’ was a criminal and twist it by using the stereotype of the evil lawyer. Could have been done much more skillfully, I repeat once more, but now I think the idea was quite sad. But it was either that or write a (more or less) descriptive piece on a post-apocalyptical scene. Didn’t really want to try that because of my fantasy/science-fiction tendencies. So. Well.
At least it’s still an A1 grade, but when practically everyone gets that anyway, it’s kinda sad. Oh well.