Kean (First Draft of My Creative Writing Class Assignment)

I am laying down under an apple tree on the top of a hill overlooking the village. Surrounding me is the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen: village to the north, rice fields to the west, green pastures where a pack of horses are running in circles in the northwest right next to the rice field, not to mention the river flowing to the lake to the east. Then I looked at my right and I see a beautiful angel sitting right next to me. She looks familiar, but I don’t bother figuring out who she is because her beauty absorbs all my worldly attention. Her lips are moving as if she’s saying something but I can’t comprehend what. Then suddenly, to my surprise, she moves her lips towards mine, closer, and closer…

Then I hear the sound of my phone’s alarm ringing on the table on the other side of the bed.

Oh, man, why now, of all times? That angel in my dream, well, I know her. Her name is Kean. She actually exists in this very world. And she’s my classmate. And she’s very cute. I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently, but I’ve never dreamt about her; that was the first time.

But the fun’s over thanks to my phone’s alarm.

I sit down for a couple of seconds before walking towards the phone to dismiss the obnoxious sound of the alarm and check the time. Monday, 5:30 AM. Darn it. School. I walk lazily into the bathroom to get my things done.

Have I told you that I’ve been thinking about Kean a lot recently? Well, let’s be honest: I like her so much and I want to get closer to her, both physically and personally. Not only she’s cute, she’s also a very bright student. She’s active in the school body and a few extracurricular activities in school. Everyone in the school knows her, and by everyone I mean everyone: the teachers, the girls, the boys, and even the school janitor.

That leads me to my problem: I am the complete opposite of her. I am known in school for nothing. My classmates see me as this silent fellow who spends his time sitting on his own in the corner of the class. I have no friends; my desk mate would be my only one but sometimes he’s busy with his other friends. Maybe it’d be helpful if I’m smart or something, but my grades are nothing special.

Maybe you thought getting close to Kean is easy, since she’s my classmate. Technically, it is, but I have this difficulty in talking to people. No, I’m not autistic or mentally-retarded or something like that. I’m completely normal. It’s just that when I talk to people, whoever that is, I always get tongue-tied and my conversations are always awkward. Let alone striking a decent conversation with Kean.

After having a quiet breakfast with my family, I leave home for school, caring less about what is today’s subject in school and more about Kean.

Writer’s note: this is only the first draft, so pardon the crappiness.


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