The 3-min programme
Monday, November 14, 2005
today, during the prose workshop, we did a couple of exercises on developing different parts of our story. Didn't have quite much energy left by the time we did the Shakespeare exercise on Character development so it wasn't done to the best of my abilities. Nevertheless, I took the chance during the 3-min programme to develop the plot that I thought of last night but put aside to concentrate on my current piece on Kirono, which I shall call "Charms". Title may be subject to change.
Anyway, presenting "Anorexia Nervosa": Draft 1. (and I mean draft 1 cos I haven't finetuned it through research)
I entered the train, looking for a place to sit. To my dismay, all the seats were full. Oh well, I thought to myself, and grabbed on to a handrail. My stomach was rumbling violently. that stupid stomach; it keeps getting hungry. Nevertheless, I pulled my belt one notch tighter. I looked at my bulging stomach. I have worn a belt as I make my way towards the day when I can fit into that size four pair of jeans. I do not have enough money to afford jeans that go down the decreasing sizes, thus, the belt that can be tightened.
Ah, the hunger will go away, as always, I thought, frantically trying to ignore the grumblings of my stomach. But my efforts proved to be in vain as the pangs of hunger never seemed ceased. My head started to swirl. I tightened my grip on the handrail in an attempt to steady myself. Man, why am I so weak? Is two hours of running in the park in addition to 4 hours in the gym insufficient? My vision began to blur and my legs proved unable to support my body any longer. Have I really become so fat that even my legs are unable to support my weight? Yuck, these detestable fats stuck to every inch of my body like caramel to teeth. As to how I should get rid of them, I have not a clue.
A lady stood up from her seat and just in time too, as cold sweat broke out on my face. When I managed to gain enough consciousness to once again be aware of my surroundings, I noticed an elderly woman glaring at me. I guess that she was the warm body whom I had so hurriedly pushed away from the seat. It was only then that I noticed that many people in the train cabin were also casting their stares at me. I must have really looked like a chicken desperate to escape from the slaughter house as I scrambled to my seat.
A thought suddenly struck me with horror.
I shall stop here. It's geting late here. Anyway, since I ended it this way, what do you think will happen next? Have I been too long-winded here?
Anyway, presenting "Anorexia Nervosa": Draft 1. (and I mean draft 1 cos I haven't finetuned it through research)
I entered the train, looking for a place to sit. To my dismay, all the seats were full. Oh well, I thought to myself, and grabbed on to a handrail. My stomach was rumbling violently. that stupid stomach; it keeps getting hungry. Nevertheless, I pulled my belt one notch tighter. I looked at my bulging stomach. I have worn a belt as I make my way towards the day when I can fit into that size four pair of jeans. I do not have enough money to afford jeans that go down the decreasing sizes, thus, the belt that can be tightened.
Ah, the hunger will go away, as always, I thought, frantically trying to ignore the grumblings of my stomach. But my efforts proved to be in vain as the pangs of hunger never seemed ceased. My head started to swirl. I tightened my grip on the handrail in an attempt to steady myself. Man, why am I so weak? Is two hours of running in the park in addition to 4 hours in the gym insufficient? My vision began to blur and my legs proved unable to support my body any longer. Have I really become so fat that even my legs are unable to support my weight? Yuck, these detestable fats stuck to every inch of my body like caramel to teeth. As to how I should get rid of them, I have not a clue.
A lady stood up from her seat and just in time too, as cold sweat broke out on my face. When I managed to gain enough consciousness to once again be aware of my surroundings, I noticed an elderly woman glaring at me. I guess that she was the warm body whom I had so hurriedly pushed away from the seat. It was only then that I noticed that many people in the train cabin were also casting their stares at me. I must have really looked like a chicken desperate to escape from the slaughter house as I scrambled to my seat.
A thought suddenly struck me with horror.
I shall stop here. It's geting late here. Anyway, since I ended it this way, what do you think will happen next? Have I been too long-winded here?
