NURUL FATIN AFIFAH

1. Prose fiction (Short story)

A visit she longed for.

She stood rooted to the ground. The sight of an arched white, immense brazen new gate welcomed her back, dropping her jaw, leaving her in awe. It was a new sight for her to see, yet it felt almost the same as how it was back in the day. Everything presented the same energy as she once felt before. Nothing was excluded. Not even the dust in the air. Swiftly, the icy cold morning air caressed against her skin, chilling her to the bone. She could feel that Plutchik's wheel of emotions spun around hard, taking over herself.  She was taken aback to old memories of this place 9 years ago. Fifa could not take any step forward.  Her hooded eyes were teary and she quickly looked for a piece of tissue from her bag, to not let the tears ruin her make-up. “Come on, it was just one minute since you arrived and you are already crying?” she complaint to herself. She then braced herself, took a deepest breath ever, and walked into the school compound. First thing first, upon meeting the school guard, she greeted him and asked for a permission to report herself to the headmaster at the school’s office.  He nodded as a sign of approval and so she headed to the office.

“The headmaster will not be around for this week, so you may see Encik Azman instead. He is the senior administrative assistant,” informed one of clerk in the office. She offered Fifa a cup of coffee earlier with a warm smile bloomed across her face. Fifa felt grateful for her kindness, leaving an impression in her mind that this school never disappoints her except for one thing. Then, Fifa went into Encik Azman’s office and greeted him. He recognized her at first sight and shook his head in amazement of how a 12-year old Fifa is now a grown up. Funny enough to kick start the conversation, he congratulate her for successfully growing up (physically). They had a long conversation, until it was time for the assembly. But before he finished his last word, Encik Azman asked Fifa how she coped up with “that”. The one thing that haunted her in dreams for months 9 years ago. “I am doing just fine now,” she replied with a faint smile on her face.

Fifa wondered what had happened to that place. The only place that she knew she had to avoid in the whole school. The place that she would need enormous courage if she were to visit it. The one that a part of her heart longed to be there yet the other part screamed in terror, unready to do so.   It was the place where her most beloved Keke died. Keke was a rabbit that the school had adopted along with other animals which were turtles, fishes, cats and roasters. It was almost like a mini zoo back in the backyard of the school. The little rabbit was very cute, adorable and totally a sight for any sore eyes. Every pupils love Keke but no one could top out Fifa. She went to visit Keke every single day, before class, during recess and after school. As she was there, she would be feeding it food or most of the time talked to it. No one can assure but rumours had it that Keke also loved Fifa so much. It was accustomed to meeting Fifa every day that when Fifa was sick and could not come to school, Keke refused to eat that day. You could have guessed as much, how it was when it came to Fifa herself. She had a fever but begged her mother to go to school just to feed Keke. Everyone in the school knew about Keke and Fifa. They called the duo with a rather cuter name which was “Kekpa.”

One frightful day, something happened to Keke. She could sense uneasiness claimed over her body, mind and soul as she woke up from bed that day. As usual, the pet keeper let out the animals from their cages every Thursday for one hour or two. The pupils will gather around and play with them. Suddenly, there was a little boy who jumped in excitement to see Keke and he tripped over it. It was right in front of her eyes and Fifa screamed so loud that she lost her voice. Guilt hung heavy on that boy’s shoulder but it did not change the fact that he killed it. Keke died. And so was the light in her heart. It dimmed and slowly disappeared from her heart. The light which turned her into a zoophobia she is today. Her heart cried for a countless times as she mourned the loss of Keke. It took months for her to be able to sleep without a nightmare after the incident.

Her mind wondered around and flashbacked her memories of Keke. Before she knew it, she was tricked her by her thoughts that took her back to that place where the mini zoo was once situated. It was now nothing but an abandoned, cold, rustic scabrous metal cage. She could see it. There. Almost giving a smile she did not know a bunny could give. Fifa smiled upon her brave soul. She finally visited Keke’s home.

2. Prose non-fiction. (Poster/ Advertisement)

As I strolled around the school, a big banner caught my eyes. It was a banner that shows model students of the school. I have recreate the banner below as inspired from what I saw that day .

3. Poetry

I would like to dedicate this poem to the girl whom I met during my SBE. She was looking out of the window when I walked pass her class. This poetry will tell you a story of what I felt then and there.

The Girl's Eyes.

A pair of sorrowful eyes

was looking out of the window of her classroom.

Long was her gaze, deep as well.

The next second, her eyes locked into mine.

At that moment, it was almost like the time stood still.

For her gaze to turn heads

of only those who understand

her.

She was telling me something.

Something deep inside her heart that screams to be heard.

No one would ever find out.

But I knew.

I knew, I understand,

and I could tell because

she reminded me of me,

when I was once sitting on that seat.

Her eyes spoke in hush whispers of anguish and despair.

It was as if she was sending me a thought

That sounds just like this:

"I wonder why

everybody wants to be heard,

but they never want to listen?

And I could be the best listener you’d ever met.

But sometimes a listener like me yearns to be heard too.

I do have my own stories to share,

I do have things happening in my life.

That I wanted to tell you.

Like you do.

It's not fair that you have me to listen to you

when I have no one.

You were not able to read between the lines,

when I hinted a look through my eyes in earnest to say something.

You did not realise that you were not listening

to me.

That you felt naturally okay

to mistreat me.

I wonder what

does it mean when people do not remember that

they already told me

things they are telling me ?

Sure enough,

for their importance lies in sharing the story.

Not with whom they share it with.

How lucky of them when things has always been about them.

It is always about them.

Now, where is the “sharing is caring” part people are talking about?"

I was able to read her through like a book so beautifully written.

Because I have been there.

I roamed about the school, saw it all,

and wondered a lot of exquisite things in my mind.

And I found the answer.

My dear, listen to me.

Here, you will meet different kinds of people.

There are always those kinds of people you just told me;

never want to listen to you

nor they care of your existence.

And of course.

There are people who are worse than them;

who downgrades other,

feeling superior to other.

In spite of everything,

just bear in mind,

no matter how hard it is dealing with people,

be strong. Stay in the battle.

“Because it is what everybody else go through,” they said.

No!

You have to be strong, not because you are not the only one.

But because only the strongest of them survived!

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That's all from me.Thank you for your time. i really appreciate it.