The child

Idag mens jeg lurket rundt på stumbleupon fant jeg en ganske morsom måte å trene opp skriving og kreativitet på. Det gikk ut på å finne 6 ord i ordboka og skrive en historie/tekst på maks 250 ord. Etter mye roting med å finne en ordbok i .pdf-format fant jeg en norsk (uten nok sider vel og merke) og en engelsk - welsh. Ordene jeg kom fram til var; equal, express, furious, catch, scar og blending. Child ble objektet mitt. Og teksten ble slik (på engelsk, noe jeg er relativt dårlig i, for mye gaming med forkortelser):

The child
The child wasn’t equal to the other children. The child expressed something else. It reminded me of something furious. Something unique. It was something the other children didn’t have. We learned them that everyone was equal. That they all meant everything and nothing. We knew that wasn’t the truth. We knew that when the children grew up they would realize just what we did. We learned them brainwashing facts that didn’t last forever. There was always someone who could think for themselves. That child. I admired that child.

The child fell, and I caught him. “Thank you”, he said quiet, without an expression. I noticed a scar on his collarbone; his shirt had wrinkled when he fell. I saw the child walk away from me to his class. I felt guilt. How could I become what I hated? How could I, the one who was different than the others do this? I don’t know how I could do this to the children. They weren’t equal. They were different. All of them. They just didn’t know it yet, they didn’t understand. Cause we filled them with ideas, ideas of a perfect world. Where we knew what we expected, because we all were the same. It was nothing to be afraid of in a perfect world. In that moment I made up my mind. I went to the classroom, to stop the children blending in to this world.
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Jeg tror jeg skal legge ut denne på deviantart, for jeg ble faktisk ganske fornøyd.
"Oppgaven" kan du finne her.