4. Write a 200-300 word description about a time when you were vulnerable and open to persuasion. In your response, use either the style, language technique or atmosphere from the extract ‘On Anticipation’ in your own composition. (8 marks)
I’ve always believed in second chances. Unfortunately for me, second chances have not always believed in me. In those moments, I sit, drooling, expecting to find resolutions and forgiveness crawling to me like children. Right now, it is pouring outside, and the familiar stench of my grandmother's cooking fills the air, enveloping me into a mush of warmness and grief. Today was supposed to be my birthday party, but today I spend it clustered behind television screens and newspaper wrappings. Today I was supposed to feel happy.
My mother tried to convince me to have a party. She told me that mourning over the smell of baked beans and cherry pies could only make one sadder. I remember she would urge me every single morning on the car ride to school, of the importance of relaxing and spending time with my friends. Perhaps she is right, perhaps I should have taken that second chance to fix my overarching fear of celebration. I guess I shouldn’t blame myself for my 9th birthday party.
Three things happened that fateful afternoon. One. My three friends and I sat down next to the forest campfire. We played Duck, Duck Goose, and Miley Cyrus’ ‘Party in the USA’ in the scorching summer. Two, we all wore long, frilly, ironed matching pink dresses (and we were barefoot), which glistened against our toenails. I was happy, until three. Little Timmy in the pinkiest pink dress ate my entire cherry birthday cake, which my grandmother worked all night on. Ever since then, birthdays have become a burden.
At around 3pm on my birthday, a wave of excitement washed over me. I wanted to celebrate, not as a birthday party, but as a mutual acknowledgement of aging. I put on my favourite frilly pink dress, and I decided to give myself a second chance.
I call my friends over. Little Timmy was not invited.