Week 5 Writing Homework

Scholarship Practice Interview Question:
If your friends’ memories about you were completely wiped for a day, what would you want them to know, or not to have forgotten, about you?

Writing Prompt:
write a short vignette (~400 words) depicting a heartfelt moment in which a parent and child meet again after being apart for years. try to use dialogue masterfully as part of your piece!

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  1. The train exhaled steam as it slowed into the old rural station, the same one he’d left from twelve years ago. Sunlight fractured through the dusty windows, catching on particles that danced like ghosts. Elena stood stiffly by the bench, her hands clasped as though in prayer. The platform was nearly empty.
    And then,
    “Mom?”
    That voice.
    She turned.
    “Daniel.” Her breath caught, tangled in her throat like thread on a nail.
    He looked older than he should’ve. Taller, of course. A jaw that had sharpened. Eyes dimmer than the boy who had left, and shoulders that carried the weight of more than just his backpack.
    “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, stopping a few feet away. Not close enough to touch.
    “You sent a letter. That was enough.” Her voice was steady, though her fingers twisted the strap of her handbag mercilessly.
    A long silence.
    He cleared his throat. “You cut your hair.”
    “You grew yours.”
    A laugh slipped from him, tired, disbelieving. “Twelve years, and we’re talking about hair.”
    “I didn’t know where to start.”
    “Neither did I.”
    She nodded slowly, then stepped forward. “May I?”
    He didn’t answer. But he didn’t step back either.
    She reached up, fingers grazing his face as though confirming he was real. “You look like your father.”
    He flinched slightly. “I hoped I didn’t.”
    Her hand dropped. “He was cruel. But he wasn’t all bad.”
    Daniel’s mouth tightened. “I don’t remember the good parts.”
    “Then remember this: I tried to protect you. I wanted to leave sooner, but-”
    “You left me with him,” he interrupted, voice low and sharp.
    “I left him,” she corrected, a tremor breaking her poise. “And I begged the courts for custody. He had the money. I had… bruises.”
    His gaze softened for a blink, then turned away. “Why didn’t you find me after he died?”
    “I didn’t know. No one told me.” Her eyes shone now. “By the time I tracked you down, you were gone again. Foster homes don’t leave forwarding addresses.”
    He nodded once. Slowly. “Fair enough.”
    More silence.
    She pulled a folded paper from her bag. “This is your birth certificate. You’ll need it if you ever apply for scholarships. Or marriage.” Her voice broke slightly on the last word. “You used to say you’d marry a girl who owned a bookstore.”
    He took the paper, not unfolding it.
    “I still might,” he said, with a small, rueful smile.
    “That’s something.”
    Daniel looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time.
    “I don’t know what I want from you,” he admitted.
    “I’m not here to want anything,” she replied. “Only to give you what I couldn’t then.”
    He studied her, words crawling up his throat before tumbling out in a whisper: “Do you still make cinnamon toast?”
    She blinked. “Every Saturday.”
    He looked down at the platform between them. “I remember Saturday mornings. That little song you’d hum. The one from the record player.”
    “Ella Fitzgerald,” she said. “You danced with socks on your hands.”
    That made him smile, faint and surprised.
    “I hated you for a long time,” he confessed.
    “I know.”
    “I wanted to forget you.”
    “But you didn’t.”
    He shook his head.
    “Then maybe,” she said gently, “we can start again with cinnamon toast.”
    He hesitated, then, with a breath that seemed to exhale years, nodded.
    “Okay. But no socks on my hands this time.”
    She smiled, tears finally falling. “Deal.”
    The train groaned behind them, but neither moved.
    Not yet.

  2. My ears were perked up, hearing the familiar honking of the train’s horn. This time, however, felt less like ‘get off, it’s your stop’, and more ‘it’s ok, you can get off now’. She sucked in a breath, slowly, deliberately. As Emily placed her trembling foot onto the platform, she could see a bright yellow umbrella with the words ‘WORLD’S BEST MUM’ emblazoned on it. My cheeks flushed scarlet, remembering the goofy grin I had plastered on my face when I handed it to her. But nevertheless, my feet plonked onto the pavement as I ran to her, hands wide open. Her previously sleepy expression lit up as soon as she saw me.
    “Emily!” she cried, flinging her weathered arms around me. Her face, every line, every wrinkle, every scar was blooming with euphoria.
    “Mother!” I exclaimed, embracing her tighter.
    “I knew you would find me. My cute little baby girl is growing up so fast,” she sighed.
    “Mum, seriously? This is pu-”
    “-blic? It’s fine, honey,” she interjected, reassuring me. I could feel the pace of her heartbeat. First, it was rapid, constant, speeding. Now it was ticking evenly, resting warmly against my neck.
    “THIS STOP IS CHILKA,” announced the train voice in a monotonous tone. I shivered and crept back to my mother’s warmth.
    “Mother, I wish we could see each other more, rather than just once every 10 years,” I complained.
    Sighing, she replied, “Oh, honey, so do I. But…” she hesitated.
    “It’s ok, mum. You don’t have to answer,” I smiled. She smiled back, and pulled me back into the embrace, the world of no worries.

  3. Reunion
    The arrival board blinked, a bright, digital flicker against the cavernous dimness of the terminal. The air, thick with the scent of coffee and stale air, buzzed with a nervous energy that Leo could feel humming in his bones. He leaned against a polished pillar, the cool stone a contrast to the clamminess of his palms. Seven years. A chasm measured in school semesters and missed birthdays. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t expected the heavy knot of anticipation in his stomach. The crowds thinned as the last passengers from the Boston flight trickled out, their hollow footsteps echoing on the tile floor, and then, across the sea of faces, he saw her.
    Clara hadn’t changed as much as he thought she would. Her face was etched with a few more lines around the eyes, but her smile was the same, a little tired but genuine. Her suitcase handle rattled against the tile floor as she walked, a familiar sound. She stopped a few feet away, her eyes scanning the crowd before locking on his.
    “Leo?” she said, her voice a little breathy, like she was holding back a sob.
    “Mom,” he managed to say. The word felt foreign, too big for the small space between them.
    A silence stretched, filled only by the distant announcements. He wanted to say, “I missed you,” but all he could think of was a foolish observation. “Your hair,” he blurted out.
    A small, genuine laugh escaped her. “Yours is longer. It used to be a little boy’s bowl cut. Things definitely change.”
    The laughter faded, and a more serious expression settled on her face. Her eyes, the exact same shade of brown as his, glistened.
    “I know I can’t get that time back, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low and steady. “But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
    Tears welled in his own eyes. The knot in his stomach finally untied itself, replaced by a rushing warmth. He took a step forward, and then another, until he was close enough. He dropped his bag and opened his arms, and for the first time in seven years, he was home. The embrace was tight, a silent conversation of apology, forgiveness, and love that spanned all the years they had lost.

  4. Clean Hands

    The low, rattling hum of the ‘drinks’ fridge was the only sound in the muted cafe, a noise Leo had been listening to for ten whole minutes. He breathed in the familiar scent of burnt coffee, a stark contrast to the faint, sweet smell of stale sugar. The bell over the door didn’t so much chime as jangle, a harsh sound that snagged on the quiet. Leo startled, his hands stilling over the casualty of his wait – a paper napkin reduced to a damp, snowy pile on his saucer. He looked up.

    For a heart-stopping second, he saw only a stranger in the doorway, a woman clutching her bag like an anchor. Then, she tilted her head, and seven years collapsed into a single, sharp intake of breath. It was her. The face was leaner, the set of her jaw more stubborn, but the eyes hadn’t changed. They were still the deep, questioning brown that had always seemed to know all his secrets.

    His chair scraped loudly against the linoleum as he rose to his feet. “Maya.”

    She walked to the table, her movements stiff. She didn’t hug him. She just sat, placing her bag carefully on the empty seat beside her. “Hello, Dad.”

    The silence that followed was something physical, heavier than the greasy air hanging in the room. In the quiet, the rattle of the old fridge seemed to grow louder, filling the space between their unspoken words. A waitress appeared, her shoes squeaking faintly on the floor, and they ordered coffees with a shared, desperate relief.

    “How was the train?” he asked, once they were alone again.

    “It was a train,” she said, not unkindly, but not offering more. She looked around the small cafe, her gaze lingering on the condensation weeping down on the windowpane. “This place hasn’t changed.”

    “No. Still the same burnt coffee.” He tried for a smile, but it felt like cracking plaster.

    She didn’t smile back. Her gaze fell to his hands, resting on the tabletop. “You stopped building things.”

    It wasn’t a question. Leo looked down at his own hands, surprised. They were clean, the nails neatly trimmed, the calluses he’d carried for thirty years faded into pale ghosts. “Not much to build anymore,” he said quietly. “House is too big as it is.”

    Their coffees arrived. Maya wrapped her hands around the warm mug, as if to ward off a chill. “I got your letters,” she said, looking into the black liquid. “All of them.”

    “I wasn’t sure you would.”

    “I have them in a box.” She finally met his eyes, and he saw the flicker of the hurt, stubborn girl he remembered. “I never knew what to write back.”

    “You didn’t have to write back,” Leo said, his voice thick. “I just. . . I needed to know if you were okay. And I needed you to know I was. . .” He trailed off, the word catching in his throat. Sorry. It was just too small a word for the gaping chasm between them.

    Maya’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Why now, Dad? After all this time, why ask me to meet?”

    He took a breath, the air tasting of stale coffee and regret. “Your birthday is next week. You’re be twenty-five. I remember holding you the day you were born. You were so small, all you did was scream.” A real smile touched his lips this time, fragile and sad. “I realise that I’ve been a ghost for more of your life than I was as a father. I just. . . I didn’t want to be a ghost anymore.”

    A tear slipped from Maya’s eye, tracing a quick, silent path down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away. She just watched him, her own gaze unwavering.

    “I missed you,” she whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. “Every single day, I was so angry. And every single day, I missed you.”

    The admission shattered the last of the ice. Leo reached across the table, his clean, unfamiliar hand covering hers. It was a clumsy gesture, hesitant and uncertain, but she didn’t pull away. She turned her hand over, her fingers lacing with his.

    “I know,” he said, his voice finally breaking. “Me too.”

    They sat like that for a long time, their hands clasped over the chipped Formica as a lone fly buzzed lazy circles under the fluorescent lights. The burnt coffee grew cold beside him, its bitter scent mingling with a new, fragile hope. Nothing was fixed, not yet. But the lock had turned. The door was ajar.

  5. The light leaked through a gap within the roof, its beam illuminating the silent room.
    Suddenly, quiet sobs broke the silent tension.
    ‘Bryan!’ A woman’s voice rung through the hollow hallway.
    The figure was worn and was wearing the mask of the injured.
    Bryan inched forward, his hands trembling.
    “Why! Why did you leave me?” The woman cried, her face twisted with agony.
    She took the chance to lean closer, but flinched upon feeling the anger aura around Bryan’s body.
    “You were cruel,” Bryan snapped, “That’S why I…. Left.”
    “I-I’m so sorry B-Bryan. Your father wwwwas very brutal towards me, forcing me to inflict harm on-n-n you.”
    The woman stammered, and started to sob uncontrollably.
    Upon hearing the news, Bryan expression softened. He walked closer and gave her mom a big hug.
    I miss you mum.

  6. I walked across the sunlit path of Avery Drive, and my mind was bursting with happiness. It was Tuesday, and every Tuesday I got to go and meet my best friend Charles! And I thought this would be a normal (if you call us normal) day. Just a regular Tuesday. But turns out, this thought-to-be normal second day of the week turned into a drastic movie of the clouds of my heart spreading rain. When I walked over to Charles’ house, I knocked on the door as normal and expected it to be like usual – Charles comes out to greet me, we immediately do our triple secret handshake, and we walk in. But guess what? As you might have pictured earlier, I couldn’t be more wrong. I heard walking towards the door, and I thought he was in a bad mood. But when he opened the door with a creaking sound capable of making a dragon fly away, he just looked at me and said “Who are YOU? Are you another one of my so-called ‘friends’?”
    “Wow Charles, off the bat with the jokes! I think today’s going to be better than last time!”
    “Who in the universe are you? Are you going to get off my lawn or what?”
    And then he slammed. The door. In. My. Face. Finally getting he might have hit his head hard and forgot about me, I walked home slower than I ever have before, and even though the weather forecast said it was sunny and the temperature was around 30 degrees, inside me, it was flooding rainwater. When I got home I needed time to reflect. I slammed my bedroom door closed like Charles, hoping to create some new bond between us. But I knew he couldn’t hear me. He never would now.
    “Honey, how are you home so quickly?” I could hear my mom say.
    “Mom, can you leave me for, like, 30 minutes please. I need time to reflect on something.”
    “Sure! What is it?”
    “You wouldn’t understand”
    And with that, I locked my door. I needed him to remember me. He was my best friend! I wanted him to know my name, all the fun times together. The time he dropped ice cream and I caught it with a bowl for him. The time he helped me do a backflip and I fell on my face and we laughed it off. All the birthday parties when we made sure it was the best times of our lives. All the pranks we did. Everything.

  7. The lost Reunion

    As he waited for the train to slow down ,he spotted a familiar figure in the other side of the station.
    “It probably is someone else,” he mumbled to himself.
    But the stare the women made looked recognizable . There was something different about this one. When the train slowed down he went and he saw her again at the opposite side door.
    “Mo…” he hesitated.
    “Tan, jiro,” she said with a mix of content and confusion
    when we sat down next to each other, Tanjiro had real hope of talking to his mother! After a several minutes of smelling tension in the air. A fire lit inside him like a candle.
    He spoke ,”Where have you been?”
    “I was wondering the same thing”
    “can we talk during lunch” she anxiously
    “O, k.” He said with suspicion
    after another 30 minutes of complete silence, it was lunch time. each got are each got are ekibens(train station lunch boxes) And we sat face to face. This was the moment of truth
    “I got something to tell,” turning from weariness to extreme tensity
    Tanjiro’s heart dropped. When he heard the one thing that he should’ve never heard:
    “I’m not your mother, I’m actually your mothers friend,” she continued,
    “Your mother died from extreme depression because of the lost son she didn’t see.” She said empathetically.
    ” Then why did she leave me and my father alone!” Drips of tears flowing like down his face.
    he dropped his ekiben in Extreme anger and frustration mixed with deep sadness and agony. His emotion took over him. The next he knows he wakes up in a hospital bed.
    The doctor there says ” You had extreme emotional breakdown causing you to be in this state”
    The candle once lit to a cozy temperature turned into a blazing flame. Causing the candle’s wax to disappear.

  8. The lost Reunion

    As he waited for the train to slow down ,he spotted a familiar figure in the other side of the station.
    “It probably is someone else,” he mumbled to himself.
    But the stare the women made looked recognizable . There was something different about this one. When the train slowed down he went and he saw her again at the opposite side door.
    “Mo…” he hesitated.
    “Tan, jiro,” she said with a mix of content and confusion
    when we sat down next to each other, Tanjiro had real hope of talking to his mother! After a several minutes of smelling tension in the air. A fire lit inside him like a candle.
    He spoke ,”Where have you been?”
    “I was wondering the same thing”
    “can we talk during lunch” she anxiously
    “O, k.” He said with suspicion
    after another 30 minutes of complete silence, it was lunch time. each got are each got are ekibens(train station lunch boxes) And we sat face to face. This was the moment of truth
    “I got something to tell,” turning from weariness to extreme tensity
    Tanjiro’s heart dropped. When he heard the one thing that he should’ve never heard:
    “I’m not your mother, I’m actually your mothers friend,” she continued,
    “Your mother died from extreme depression because of the lost son she didn’t see.” She said empathetically.
    ” Then why did she leave me and my father alone!” Drips of tears flowing like down his face.
    he dropped his ekiben in Extreme anger and frustration mixed with deep sadness and agony. His emotion took over him. The next thing he knows he wakes up in a hospital bed.
    The doctor there says ” You had extreme emotional breakdown causing you to be in this state”
    The candle once lit to a cozy temperature turned into a blazing flame. Causng the candle’s wax to disappear.

  9. Animals Can’t Cry
    PROLOGUE
    She crept closer, leaning in on the tiger. Silently, slowly, hunting the hunter, she lifted up the gun. One wrong move, and she would be dinner. She thought of her child at home, the town that had been plagued by disappearances in the forest.

    For them. Always for them. A dart, a mere dart, then transportation up to the north. No one in the town would get hurt. That was what mattered. The animal would not suffer—not in any way that counted. They were fierce, beautiful things, but not like people. People felt loss. People wept. Animals… they didn’t.

    The tigress shifted, and her keen, fluorescent eyes swept toward the undergrowth. A spark of intelligence twinkled in them, but it was more than that. A hint of something almost human glinted in those hidden depths. The hunter shook it away. She had seen that look in beasts before. Reflex, nothing more.

    The tigress sprang—up, up, up—coming down with a mass of furry weight, sharp claws, and blood-tipped teeth. The dead-man’s trigger went off, and the dart whizzed into the hindquarters by chance.

    With a yowl of surprise, the tiger checked itself mid-leap. Forgetting the threat, it chased its tail, stumbling until it dropped to the undergrowth like a rock. For a second, a glimmer shone in its eyes, a drop yet to fall, suspended in time. She dismissed it. Animals couldn’t cry.

    Hesitantly, she crept up to it, trembling with fear, and met flesh with fur as she stroked the sleeping tiger. She took out a battered walkie-talkie, and softly murmured, “Target eliminated. Bring in the trucks.”

    TWO HOURS LATER…
    A mewl, soft and sweet, echoed out to the jungle. The sheltered cave was emptier now, a space where warmth had been. The cub stumbled into the open, tiny sides heaving, nose lifted for a scent that would never return.

    It called again, and again—high, broken sounds that carried through the trees. No one answered. The forest held its silence.

    The hunter would have said animals could not mourn, could not cry. But the sound that drifted over the undergrowth told a different story.

    THREE YEARS LATER…
    Jungle green. That was her first impression as she shot up in bed like a bullet. She shook her head in exasperation. This was the seventh time in a row she’d had the same dream. That tiger…

    It had died. Died from the dart that weakened her when she was already suffering with post-childbirth issues. But it was an animal. An animal that had killed a previous pet, and nearly killed a human. Sure, it was sad, and it had got the pro-animal right people preaching for a while, but everything had died down.

    She’d moved on from bounty-hunting business. She’d tried to make it work, but…

    Glazed photographs stood proud like a treaty, displaying the unexpected boy that had changed her life. She heaved up, out of bed, and carelessly glanced at the clock. 9:08 AM it blared, shoving her in the face with anxiety.

    Where was her son?


    Human.

    The scent was whipped around by the crisp morning air, settling heavily into the nostrils of the hunter. The dormant, faint smell of something lingered like a wisp of smoke from a faraway fire, dancing, before retreating, and dissipating.

    Child of it.

    He was shocked at the observation. He had smelled that strong, tangy smell when the big monsters had swallowed his mother. She was sleeping, but not dead. And that foul woman plucked out the human thorn that had felled her.

    And this was her child.

    Run! Run! The instinct was so powerful she was shaking with emotion. Her son was in danger. His trail meandered into the forest, twigs snapped, crackled leaves.

    The trail grew so vague that the last thing she saw of him was a blue strand of thread, fresh and unsullied, laying innocently on the ground.

    He was gone.

    The child…

    Not child. Human.

    The human was dawdling about, completely unprotected. Was this a trap? Like when his mother was captured because she went out, lured by the smell of unclaimed fresh meat.

    But they wouldn’t risk a child’s life.

    Where did that thought come from?

    Something was seeping into his brain, and the smell he hadn’t even noticed was growing stronger. And then he was a cub again, wailing for a mother that would never come, because that scent was so strong, it felt like she was next to him.

    A mournful bay echoed through the treetops. And it was a most magnificent and terrible thing to hear that. It was most likely the first time a grown tiger had given out such a message of sadness. All that pain, it came out.

    And he collapsed with a thud.

    The boy was still there, and he crept up to this fabulous beast. He was about to raise a milky hand to touch it when a roar, a tiger’s roar, purposeful put not fierce, made him stop. He looked up, innocent eyes widening, as he took in a bruised and battered tiger, crimson-orange stained with blood.

    Fire. Fire. Her little boy was on fire. The orange tiger was wrapped around her little boy. That was her first impression as she rushed into the clearing. Two tiger… two! And one of them looked very much like…

    She looked down at her hands. The hands that had shot that tiger, had doomed that tiger. Any animal-safe dart wouldn’t harm an animal, even a severely weak one. Her former scientist friend had loaded a gun for her, a gun she’d thought was safe.

    But he’d called her in the middle of her trek, and he’d said that the dart was filled with a serum yet to be tested. It would knock the animal out, but the consequences were unknown. And he’d laughed. Sick.

    But wasn’t she sick too? Instead of turning around, and getting the real serum, she’d continued on. And she’d doomed that animal to whatever fate the universe chose. She’d heard that the tiger had not woken up at the expected time. Breathing was shallow. So they’d dumped her on the side of the path.

    Raised from the dead.

    While the adult human was busy with conflicting thoughts, the tigers had a conversation.

    Why do I feel so different?
    It’s because of the serum. Our connection in the womb kept us connected when I was struck by a ‘human thorn’ as it is said. And you received the blessing and curse of being human. I survived, only just, because of this. And my injuries almost killed me.
    I don’t want to be human!
    You walk both worlds. Come, my child, my cub, the grown-up tiger I never got to raise. You survived because I kept strong, our connection sharing strength.

    And the two tiger lay side by side, like a ying-yang, one fiery red, like a sunset, the other orrange, stripes inky black, but somehow glowing at the same time. Blood leaked out of her wounds, and the serum was shared. As the blood was released, a spirit whose time had long come, was set free.

    And the tiger left nuzzled his fallen mother. And he turned to face the murderers.

    When she looked up, there was one tiger left. And it looked at her with piercing eyes, and somehow, she understood. This was the son of the tiger she had brought suffering to, for years.

    He plodded over to her son, and a claw rested on his fleshy neck. The boy glanced up, curious. The meaning was clear; a life for a life.

    And she collapsed to her knees, sobbing. This was pain, this was agony, this was what she had done, and what she deserved.

    Ripped apart a family. Only to be reunited, and ripped again.

    Death and life, vengeance and justice blurred, she inclined her own neck to the tiger. He seemed to consider.

    But he dragged his claws across the ground, arching them around to the same spot, around the body of his fallen mother. Again, and again, and again, until it was a shallow groove.

    He dipped his head, and a drop of water fell from his eyes. Not a tear, but a gesture.

    Animals couldn’t cry. But he taught her how to.

    And she was crying into that hole, crying for the lives she ruined, crying in happiness for her son, and the hope of a new future.

    And when she looked up, the tiger was gone.

    In its place was a lone silver droplet, shining in the sunlight, like a star of forgiveness.

  10. Thomas sat on the creaky wooden bench, eyes fixed onto the concrete ground. The train soon rumbled into view. Ashen grey smoke filled the air. People flooded out of the train. Thomas stood up and scanned the platform for his father. It has been ten years since his father went to war. Then he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. He whipped around. He saw warm, familiar chestnut eyes, a lion nose and vermilion, thin lips.
    “Thomas. You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you.” Thomas’s father commented with a bright smile.
    He stared at the son he left for ten years and noticed his features that had developed over the years. Thomas had a sharper jaw and was more tanned and also looked more burly.
    Thomas’s eyes immediately filled with tears. His top lip quivered. He embraced his father right away. His tough facade melted instantly. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder and let out his sobs one by one. His father patted his son’s back as he let tears roll down his face. Thomas started talking between his sobs but his father couldn’t fathom what Thomas was trying to say.
    Thomas stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes.
    “Father, let’s go home. I have many things to show you. Mother prepared a feast.” said Thomas with a straight strain in his voice. Thomas’s father noticed how hard Thomas was trying to stop breaking down and he smiled.
    “Yes, let’s not keep your mother waiting. I still remember how snappy she gets when I am late for dinner.” chuckled Thomas’s father letting out hearty laughs.
    The pair headed home at last after being separated for a decade.

    Scholarly scholarship writing term 3 week 5

  11. The heartfelt reunion
    The train exhaled steam from its engine, its sound echoeing through the station, reflecting of the freshly painted walls. A bundle of flowers were clenched between Jack’s hands, as he patiently stared at the tracks, hoping that the train carrying his beloved mum would arrive. His fingers tapped a constant rythm on the oaks seat. His toes started wiggling in his shoes. Until he heard the sound.
    “Jack,” hushed a quiet voice in his ear.
    The sound halted every breath, every sound and every beat of the heart. Startled, he spun his head around, making his jaw drop and eyes widened. Infront of him stood his beautiul mum, her slick hair drooping on his shoulders. Her lips smooched his cheeks, as his heart enlightened with joy. His hands reached out, his mums body collapsing in them.
    “I haven’t seen you in a while,” he whispered.
    “It was impossible for me too get out of the house with what has happened in the last few days,” she replied, tears now flowing down her cheeks. Jack new that these tears were a sense of happiness. Afterall, since the passing of his father, life hasn’t been easy. ” No one is in the house to comfort me now. Not your dad, not your sister, not even you. I’m glad that I’m here.”
    “I understand,” I reassured her, “and now that I’m with you, I’ve decided to make the most of it.” “To begin with, I want to apologise for making your life harder than it already was. When father passed away, I didn’t bother to check in on you because I was too engaged in what I was doing. I understand how hard it is for you, and I want to remind you that I’m always here.”
    The message was all that his mother needed, touching her heart and making it lively again. Throughout the day, they laughed, cried and chatted. Jack and his mum had finally reunited, and their hearts are now content.

  12. I waited hesitantly at the open train door. Did I really want to do this? My eyes darted to the fluorescent orange sign. It read, ‘Melbourne’. I can’t believe I was really here, meeting the person I talked with every day, just on a pixelated screen. My mum’s network was never good, where she lived.
    No.
    I had to go meet her. I stepped out onto the stoney platform and sprinted down the stairs. Of course, she was there waiting for me. She looked almost furious, having a staring contest with the woman on the poster opposite her.
    ‘Hi!’ I called out to her, waving my arms enthusiastically.
    ‘Hi.’ She almost immediately replied.
    ‘You okay?’ I asked, suddenly worried. ‘You look sad.’
    ‘No, I’m fine. Come on, we need to go now. Dad’s waiting.’ She quickly pulled me out onto the pathway and we rushed towards our car, where Dad was sleeping.
    ‘Hi.’ I quickly muttered, as I got into the back seat.
    ‘What?’ He said, as he slowly woke up. ‘Oh. Hi! Welcome back. How was school?’
    ‘It was fine.’ I replied, not wanting to tell him about my friends. I was afraid of him being angry. ‘How’s Mum? She hasn’t been looking too well today.’ I asked, sneakily changing the topic.
    ‘She’s fine too. Just feeling a little bit… overworked?’ Dad answered awkwardly. ‘Let’s just go home.’
    Frustrated, I struck first. ‘You guys are hiding something. Why can’t I know?’
    ‘It’s just… I don’t want to live like this. It’s strange meeting each other every day through FaceTime. We’re considering moving to Sydney. That way this family relationship might not be so awkward.’ My mum finally said.
    ‘Honey, didn’t we say it was supposed to be a surpr-’
    ‘We’re moving?’ I interjected excitedly.
    ‘Yep.’

  13. The Surprise

    It has been ten years since Lilly saw her parents. Lilly had been at a high school for 3 years, the other 7 years ,Lilly has been exploring the whole wide world with Julie her friend. They went to several different countries. During that time Lilly was a busy little bee making sure that She and Julie know when to go, not loosing anything and planning hotels and flights . One ordinary day Lilly was walking out of” Lilly and Julie’s” room talking to her friend Julie until…
    A stranger approached in front of the Science room.
    “What grade are you in?” Asked the mysterious person
    “ I am in year 10.” Julie answered confused
    “Oh then I will be teaching you Science for the rest of the year.”
    Lilly’s stomach had butterflies spinning in her stomach ,suddenly the new science teacher looked familiar. Lilly felt like that she has seen the new science teacher before but her head was just exploding with thoughts.
    “ What if I am imagining things?, Why does she look similar?” Lilly said quietly to herself.
    “Lilly do you remember me?”
    Suddenly she knew exactly who.
    Mum, is that you?” Lilly questioned curiously
    Believe it or not it was Lilly’s mum
    “Are you excited that I am teaching you for the rest of this year!”her mum asked
    Julie was waiting on the side patiently and quietly like a dog patiently waiting waiting for someone to play with.
    Yes, I am sooooo happy!” Lilly yelled with joy
    Lilly and Julie’s class also has science today. On the way back Lilly and Julie was hopping, Spinning all the way back to “Julie and Lilly’s room with excitement that Lilly’s mum was going to teach their science class.

  14. Was it really her, the person that I had been longing to see since I had been shipped off to Sydney Cove. I ran and embraced her. I saw that she also had a friend with her this time.

    “Mother, what have you done? Why are you at Sydney Cove like me? Why is Peppercorn with you?” I asked the wheels in my brain turning as I threw questions at her. Peppercorn was our family dog. We had adopted him from an adoption centre. He is not a dog that would hurt anyone or do anything bad. The last time I saw my Mother she had short hair and had soft brown eyes. Now from the journey her eyes looked tired and weak and she was stumbling on her legs. Her hair had grown to a very long cascading tower of brown locks with long strips of purple and teal hair dye alternating with the brown. Her hair was also filthy from not being washed over the voyage. I felt a knot in my stomach creeping up towards my chest. I told myself to be brave. I told myself not to cry in front of my mother. I held it in.
    “Rosamond! I am so happy that I can finally see you again. I came here for committing a crime as well, just a small theft though. Peppercorn had to come because the police said that he was helping me.” Mother said. She was shaking from the voyage. I gestured for her to sit down next to me. I filled her in on what had happened through the past years without her. I told her how they had used a cat o’ nine tales on me and then I started crying.. I described to my Mother how the horrid whip was used on me multiple times, giving me bruises on my back. My body clenched even now, thinking of every crack of the whip. I remembered where I slept on the ship, hard, nasty, horrible and filled with rats was the only way I could describe it. It stunk like vomit and sewage when someone was sick or needed to go to the bathroom. The flour had weasels in them and all us convicts were never happy. Day after day the walls were all sticky and nothing seemed clean. This was nothing like my life in England. All the convicts on board the Lady Penrhyn were mainly mean, though some were kind hearted. One of the kind-hearted convicts, Eleanor, a female convict, reminded me of Mother. It was comforting but also made me sad.
    A sudden thought came to mind,

    “ What about Father?” I asked. At the thought of father it pulled my heart a bit. I worried that he would be all alone in another ship or prison. Eating only stale bread and little salted beef that rotted.
    “Oh he’s back at home safe.” Mother said.
    “Thats good, so he hasn’t committed any crimes yet?”
    “Oh no, not for now,” Mother said with a little laugh. Thank goodness. I was relieved that at least Father was safe.
    I told Mother how I got a job working on a farm. I had to dig up manure from the fields, empty the worm farm, herd and milk the goats. It was tiring and smelly work, and different from my old life in England. I hadn’t noticed but Mother had a ball and chain around her ankle. It looked very hard to carry around.

    “Is it hurting you?” I asked her, gasping.
    “It is OK, not bad at all..” She said, trying to smile, but instead wincing. I smiled sadly back at her. I knew she was in a great amount of pain, as I’d also had a ball and chain when I first arrived. The metal had scraped the skin around my ankles raw.
    One of the mean soldiers approached and gave us both lunch. Today was some stale bread with little salt fish and a small piece of chocolate as a treat. We ate it in thanks although it was very little, being girl convicts meant that we didn’t have as much of a proportion of food as males. My stomach was still growling afterwards.

    Over this journey I’ve learnt to overcome my fears, the whip and going onto a ship on my own, worried, but all alone I was afraid I would not be able to survive. Now I was reunited with my Mother. We would have each other in the penal colony at least. I could only hope for a brighter future, one where maybe one day we could return to England.

  15. Laura’s eyes pierced through the clear window of the train. She had finally arrived at the station, back home. Laura had been away for years without her beloved family, though their faces were just a blur in her mind. She didn’t remember much about her family and what they were like. Their identity was just distant, no clear memories came back to Laura.
    The train went to a complete stop. Laura, confused, walked onto the platform. The wind swept across her face. She wanted to go home. Laura didn’t remember parts of her hometown. She felt like it was her first time here. She tried to remember playing here once, but nothing came back.
    “Laura!”
    Her dad called out. Laura flung her head around, trying to figure out who had called her name. She looked at everyone, but nobody seemed familiar, even though her father was standing a few feet away from her. She simply didn’t remember anything about her family.
    Laura’s dad wrapped Laura in a hug tightly. Laura reacted fast and struggled out of her dad’s arms.
    “Stay away from me, you don’t know who I am!” Laura shouted, crossing her arms. A sense of anger rushed through Laura’s body as she tried to calm down, after all that commotion.
    Laura stared back at her dad, and her eyebrows furrowed. She could see a tear trembling down his eye. Laura’s eyes started to water, realising she had made her dad cry without realizing it was him.
    “Laura, it’s me, your dad” he whispered so only Laura could hear. As soon as Laura heard the word ‘dad’, she raced up to him and hugged him like a teddy bear. Her memories were still faint and fading, but little pieces started to come back. “I didn’t realize it was you” Laura cried, remembering her actions towards someone she loved.
    Laura’s dad drove her back to her old house as the puzzle pieces in Laura’s mind started to fit together. Inside, she saw herself when she was young. Tears cascaded down on her face as more photos she saw. Laura had fully remembered her family. She realized it was them. Her mum and brother had been waiting for her, preparing surprises and food.
    As Laura started eating, she remembered the times she sat at the exact table before she left. Laura finally saw her family’s faces for the first time after years.

  16. Clara covered her sweaty hands on her face, wanting to hide herself from the world. Her legs trembled on the battered road as the wrinkly hands of the trees stretched down to her head. Her blurry eyes scrutinized at the cars, toppling unnaturally over the gnarled roots and vines. Clara felt like the last piece missing from a puzzle.
    “If only the world was a bunch of roses, all together and not lost, I don’t think I would ever feel that brightness inside of me” She whimpered like a stray puppy hysterical for a home. Her head rose up like the sunrise as she heard a familiar voice behind the mist.
    “Clara, Clara” The figure’s voice echoed down the street.
    Clara squinted her eyes, trying to identify the enigmatic shadow emerging out of the grey fog.

    Her eyes crinkled up as her mouth turned into a wide grin.
    “M-mum is that really y-you?!” She bounced onto her toes, unable to keep still as warm arms clutched onto her body.
    “Clara, don’t be scared, you’re safe now….” Her mum scanned the atmosphere peering at the GPS.
    “I don’t feel safe, I want home.” Clara couldn’t resist tears running down her pink cheeks. Her mum’s face went pale like a solitary dead leaf surrounded by ongoing rain.

    She grasped onto Clara’s hand until nothing was able to move their momentum.
    “Home is in here.” Her mum placed her nurturing palms onto Clara’s heart. She could feel every beat getting slower and slower each time seconds flew past their shoulders. Clara put a shaky fake smile across her face as her mother’s wise words swelled in her mind.

    The clouds turned dull like inside of her head, all filled up with a plethora of thoughts. This might be her last stance to fight for her survival. Rain pierced through the ground like needles. Each minute felt like a second.
    “No, mummy no! I want my real home!” Clara’s unicorn t-shirt turned grey and as dark as the clouds. “Dear, life is not perfect. It’s like two roads: one leads to the disappearing dungeons while the other leads to joy.” Her mum whipped Clara’s tears with the edge of her yellow jumper, but she knew deep down inside of her that this might be the end.

    Forever and ever.

  17. I felt an icy finger tap my shoulder – one that had disappeared many years ago.
    “Leo?”
    I turned. The voice was shaky, hesitant, but it cut right through me. My mother stood there, smaller than I had recalled, hair streaked with grey. She had a faint smile plastered across her warm face. For a moment anger stabbed at my tongue, years of nasty things to yell at her. Why would she leave me? Why would she leave me… with him? But then I saw her weary eyes – full of exhaustion, but filled with love that I once knew.
    “Mum,” I whispered as if the words alone were about to shatter into millions of pieces if I spoke too loudly.
    She nodded. Her lips trembled as though she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. At that moment, I gawked at her a bit, noticing her weariness and eyebags. She finally managed to find her voice.
    “I never stopped thinking about you,” she said quietly with a slight crack between her words.
    I swallowed hard, my throat burning. “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”
    “I was afraid,” a lump formed in her throat. “I was afraid of your father, and what reaction it would pull out of you.”
    “Father died 3 years ago,” I replied almost immediately. I felt her arms wrap around me, full of warmth and affection, just like before,- many years ago. I couldn’t help but embrace her back.
    I closed my eyes. The years apart had been weighed down with many questions, but in that moment, the answers didn’t matter. What mattered was the mother that had returned, and the son who could no longer let go. The station faded around us. No train, no noise, no strangers passing by that could touch the memories flood back between us. For the first time in years, I finally felt whole again

  18. Mistakes
    The moon was high, and its smile faded. The alleyways were empty and the lights stopped in houses. Ben was the only one left. His isolation caved into his heart, as he thought of his mother. The person who had abandoned him was something he had thought about all day.
    Tonight, something was watching him, like the gaze of a mimic tearing into his back.
    As he turned around, Ben spotted a familiar face.
    “Mum.”
    Emotions burst inside Ben’s chest, memories of the past ten years flooding through head. His mother stood there, trying to say the right words. His eyes filled with tears, but Ben held them back, forgetting that emotions were forbidden in the army.
    “Ben! I’ve missed you so much!” Look at you! You’re in the navy!” She said with a warm but forced expression. She ran towards Ben, arms wide open, delivering a hug, before Ben put up his hand.
    “Don’t even try,” Ben said as he slowly pointed something at her.
    A revolver.
    Ben’s mother stopped in her tracks, her face filled with astonishment and fear. Was this a joke? Of course it was! Ben wouldn’t kill his own mother!
    Would he?
    As he moved in slow motion towards that figure, he smiled.
    “Put your hands up. I know your foolish tricks,” he said while slightly chuckling to himself.
    “After all, I know who you really are.”
    With a quiet ‘click’, Ben let out a bullet, soaring towards his mother like an eagle to prey. The bullet struck the heart, its smile shining in the light of the pale moon.
    His mother stared at him with disbelief, a single teardrop rolling on her cheek.
    As Ben watched his mum’s eyes roll to the dark sky, and her thud of eternal sleep, he expected her to vanish, like a normal mimic. He expected to hear the familiar sound of metallic screeching. But no. There was no vanishing, no metallic screeching, and absolutely nothing that mimics did.
    Cautiously, Ben approached the body, her eyes focused on the stars twinkling in an eternal pattern. He took out his phone with a confused expression, dialing the director’s number.
    “Director, I killed a mimic, wh-“ Ben was interrupted by the excited voice of the director.
    “Ben! I found your mother! She’s meeting you at Hedge’s street!”
    As Ben put down the phone, he stared at the body, his eyes wide open.
    Unblinkingly, he stared at the street sign.
    Hedge’s street.
    “Ben? BEN?” The director said with a concerned voice.
    Ben had killed his real mother.

  19. The station

    The metal train screeched to a halt, sparks flying as steel grind against steel, echoing through the cavern station like a metallic scream. A cold gust swept along the platform as the doors hissed open, scattering newspapers across the concrete floor.

    Jack’s breath clouded in front of him. His hands twitched inside his jacket pockets. What if she doesn’t come? What if she forgot me? What if… His thoughts tangled and knotted like the cables overhead. He stared at the flood of passengers pouring out, scanning every face, heart pounding against his ribs.

    A shape appeared through the crowd—familiar, yet so far away.

    “M-Mum?” His voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.

    Her head snapped up. “Jack?”

    The world narrowed to that single word, his name, and suddenly time splintered apart.

    “OMG, Mum! I haven’t seen you in so long!” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out as if five years of silence had broken in an instant. His throat burned, his chest heaved, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

    He had never seen her smile so wide. Her posture was straighter than he remembered, like someone who had fought storms and survived. For a heartbeat, they just stared, eyes locked across the platform, an unspoken tide of memories crashing between them.

    The shy boy—skinny as a stick—was gone. In his place stood someone broader, taller, shoulders squared with a confidence he never had before. His black hair fell into his eyes as he bent to hold her closer.

    “You’ve grown so much, Jack…” she murmured, voice trembling. “Life has changed you in ways I never imagined.”

    “You still look like Mum,” he said softly, and for the first time in five years, his voice wavered.

    Her eyes glistened, then overflowed, tears streaking down her cheeks like rivers breaking their banks. She tried to speak, but only a sob came.

    “I thought…” She swallowed hard. “I thought you might’ve forgotten me.”

    “Not a chance,” he said, his voice firm now. “Not in a septendecillion years.”

    A laugh burst through her tears, shaky and raw. She pulled him into another hug, arms tightening as if she could squeeze the lost years out of existence. His jacket smelled faintly of rain and something foreign—maybe the new city, all the roads he had walked without her—but underneath was the same warmth she remembered.

    And for the first time in five long years, neither of them felt alone.

    The station

    The metal train screeched to a halt, sparks flying as steel grind against steel, echoing through the cavern station like a metallic scream. A cold gust swept along the platform as the doors hissed open, scattering newspapers across the concrete floor.

    Jack’s breath clouded in front of him. His hands twitched inside his jacket pockets. What if she doesn’t come? What if she forgot me? What if… His thoughts tangled and knotted like the cables overhead. He stared at the flood of passengers pouring out, scanning every face, heart pounding against his ribs.

    A shape appeared through the crowd—familiar, yet so far away.

    “M-Mum?” His voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.

    Her head snapped up. “Jack?”

    The world narrowed to that single word, his name, and suddenly time splintered apart.

    “OMG, Mum! I haven’t seen you in so long!” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out as if five years of silence had broken in an instant. His throat burned, his chest heaved, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

    He had never seen her smile so wide. Her posture was straighter than he remembered, like someone who had fought storms and survived. For a heartbeat, they just stared, eyes locked across the platform, an unspoken tide of memories crashing between them.

    The shy boy—skinny as a stick—was gone. In his place stood someone broader, taller, shoulders squared with a confidence he never had before. His black hair fell into his eyes as he bent to hold her closer.

    “You’ve grown so much, Jack…” she murmured, voice trembling. “Life has changed you in ways I never imagined.”

    “You still look like Mum,” he said softly, and for the first time in five years, his voice wavered.

    Her eyes glistened, then overflowed, tears streaking down her cheeks like rivers breaking their banks. She tried to speak, but only a sob came.

    “I thought…” She swallowed hard. “I thought you might’ve forgotten me.”

    “Not a chance,” he said, his voice firm now. “Not in a septendecillion years.”

    A laugh burst through her tears, shaky and raw. She pulled him into another hug, arms tightening as if she could squeeze the lost years out of existence. His jacket smelled faintly of rain and something foreign—maybe the new city, all the roads he had walked without her—but underneath was the same warmth she remembered.

    And for the first time in five long years, neither of them felt alone.

  20. The station

    The metal train screeched to a halt, sparks flying as steel grind against steel, echoing through the cavern station like a metallic scream. A cold gust swept along the platform as the doors hissed open, scattering newspapers across the concrete floor.

    Jack’s breath clouded in front of him. His hands twitched inside his jacket pockets. What if she doesn’t come? What if she forgot me? What if… His thoughts tangled and knotted like the cables overhead. He stared at the flood of passengers pouring out, scanning every face, heart pounding against his ribs.

    A shape appeared through the crowd—familiar, yet so far away.

    “M-Mum?” His voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.

    Her head snapped up. “Jack?”

    The world narrowed to that single word, his name, and suddenly time splintered apart.

    “OMG, Mum! I haven’t seen you in so long!” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out as if five years of silence had broken in an instant. His throat burned, his chest heaved, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

    He had never seen her smile so wide. Her posture was straighter than he remembered, like someone who had fought storms and survived. For a heartbeat, they just stared, eyes locked across the platform, an unspoken tide of memories crashing between them.

    The shy boy—skinny as a stick—was gone. In his place stood someone broader, taller, shoulders squared with a confidence he never had before. His black hair fell into his eyes as he bent to hold her closer.

    “You’ve grown so much, Jack…” she murmured, voice trembling. “Life has changed you in ways I never imagined.”

    “You still look like Mum,” he said softly, and for the first time in five years, his voice wavered.

    Her eyes glistened, then overflowed, tears streaking down her cheeks like rivers breaking their banks. She tried to speak, but only a sob came.

    “I thought…” She swallowed hard. “I thought you might’ve forgotten me.”

    “Not a chance,” he said, his voice firm now. “Not in a septendecillion years.”

    A laugh burst through her tears, shaky and raw. She pulled him into another hug, arms tightening as if she could squeeze the lost years out of existence. His jacket smelled faintly of rain and something foreign—maybe the new city, all the roads he had walked without her—but underneath was the same warmth she remembered.

    And for the first time in five long years, neither of them felt alone.

  21. I stepped off the train hesitantly, was this really what I wanted? To meet the one person that left me during my hardships yet gave birth to me? There was no turning back, I was already here after all. The platform was nearly empty, except for a woman standing near the edge, clutching a faded scarf. Her eyes met mine—uncertain, searching. “Gina?” she asked, voice trembling like the winter breeze. I nodded, unable to speak, in disbelief. She took a step forward, then another, until the distance between us was just breath and memory.
    “I didn’t know if you’d come,” she whispered, her hands wringing the scarf like it held all her regrets. “I wasn’t sure I deserved it.” I looked at her—older than I remembered, but still carrying the same familiarity. “You didn’t,” I said, not cruelly, just honestly. “But I came anyway.” Her eyes welled up, and she reached out, hesitating. I took another step forward and we hugged for the first time in 10 years. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was real. Her arms around me felt like pages of a book I’d stopped reading long ago—familiar, painful, unfinished.
    We sat on a bench beneath the rustling gum trees, letting the silence speak first. “I missed your 17th birthday,” she said, voice cracking. “And your graduation. I watched the video online. You were brilliant.” I blinked back something sharp, painful. “You missed a lot,” I replied. “But you’re here now.” She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to stay.” I didn’t answer right away. But I reached for her hand. That was enough—for now.

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