‘Lost’ By Roha Khan


“Okay class! You only have thirty minutes to complete your essays.”

I looked up at the clock, exasperated. How could I possibly write a good essay in thirty minutes? Everyone groaned and mumbled; I felt under pressure.

I could not possibly think while everyone continued to complain. They kept on asking weird questions with obvious answers: it was so annoying. I was lost in the whirlpool of mumbles and complain. I could not force my mind to think− inspiration does not come even when you ask nicely.

The white board should tell us everything that we were supposed to make sure was present in the essay entitled “Lost”. It looked all confusing and jumbled up and the words wanted to swallow me whole.

How could I possibly be more lost that I already was? I started to think about writing a narration on getting lost in the desert; the sun burning my back. Everything was hazy in the heat of the sand and the air was stifling. I felt myself actually sparkle as the sun rays glistened off the beads of sweat covering me.

Now at this point I really lost myself. I was sitting near the window and at this precise moment, I looked out of the window and saw a man scaling the roof of the adjacent house. The roof, painted bright red, sloped steeply downwards.

Completely forgetting about my essay, I started to observe him. He was tall and muscular with strong hands to wield tools. But he shocked me with his uncleanliness; his hair was oily and needed cutting. His clothes, covered in grease had patches all over them, and his shoes had holes.

He walked with a slight limp and suddenly I was afraid for him. He moved towards the water tank and started to check it for something. I looked on as he limped around it, bending down or testing with his hands. I could not possibly look away. Something caught his attention and he took out his phone and made a call. Then he started to move back towards the ladder. It gave me the shivers to watch him move down the steep slope with his limp….

I was jolted out of my reverie by someone saying, “Miss? Done!”

I looked up to see the time: twenty-nine minutes had passed. Someone even asked the teacher how much time was left.

“Five minutes,” then she glanced back at the clock. “Oh no, zero.”

I was shocked.

Luckily for me everyone started to complain and the teacher gave us time till 3o’clock. So I picked up my assignment sheet and went to the library to complete my work.

About froebelianwriters

I am an English Language teacher teaching O'Levels Edexcel and CIE A Levels at Froebel's International School, Islamabad. I am also working as a Subject Specialist Literacy consultant for the same school. Writing and reading has always been a passion and I try my utmost to instill these habits and hobbies in my students as well. I can be reached/contacted at fabbas227@hotmail.com or 03365287335 Happy reading!

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