EL MYE

paper 1 - reading comp, summary and directed writing (1hr 45min)

paper 2 - directed writing and compo (2hr)
directed writing - formal/informal letter, interview, diary/journal entry, magazine, news report

Summary Writing (max 150)

Humans have two types of memory, short-term and long-term memory. The STM, or working
memory stores stimuli of only current interest, which arrives there by the sensory storage area.
This memory which disappears in about thirty seconds is said to hold seven chunks of
information. By chunking similar information together, one can optimize the STM and increase
the chances of information passing to the LTM. Contrarily, diseases and damages in the brain
cause negative effects to the STM. LTM, or reference memory holds information of endless
store and duration. Humans tend to refer to the LTM in doing daily tasks. Forgotten information
is retrieved by recognition, the act of understanding the information or recall, the act of
prompting. With more hints, a memory will be recalled easier.

Directed Writing

Diary Entry

27/11/2022

Dear Diary,

I woke up rather late this morning. Although I had already set up an alarm for 8 o'clock, I
somehow managed to sleep in until 9:30. It was pretty shocking to me as I had planned to
squeeze in literature before heading out for my yumilash appointment at 10. Nevertheless,

Composition Writing

Narrative Prompt
*Write a story which involves a mistake in the sending or receiving of a message

The Slip of a Finger

It was a sunny, warm and cozy Friday afternoon. The clock had just ticked three, and thus the
Brooklyn High school bell rang, signaling the end of Ava’s school day. As the teacher dismissed
the class, Ava and her best friend Suzy went out for the bleachers. She still had an hour until it
would be time for her mom to pick both her and her older sister up from school.

“Hey, I dare you to leave a mean message to your sister,” Suzy suggested.

Ava shrugged. She never really had a good relationship with her sister, they would constantly
fight and argue over the little things. And just a few days ago, they had a big quarrel. Since then,
they have become strangers to each other. However, despite all this, Ava knew that sending a
hurtful message would be too much. It was her sister after all, and deep down, even with all the
bickering, Ava had still loved her. Yet still, she joked to Suzy.

“Sure,” Ava sounded.

She proceeded to type the worst possible text message she could muster, it was the most
hurtful, disrespectful, and cruel message she had ever even thought of texting.

At the last possible moment before sending it, Ava added, “Jokes on you! What made you think
I’ll actually send that?”

However, as those exact words left her tongue, her thumb slipped and pressed the send button.
As she saw what she did with her own eyes, a look of terror made its way to her tan face.

Pearls of sweat began to form by the corners of her round face, her hand trembling as if the
winter wind had just gushed upon her. She had never meant to send it, but she did. And in the
face of that action, she was left motionless. Quickly checking upon her pink watch, it was 3:53,
perfectly 7 minutes before her sister would end class. She became a wild animal, her actions
came without thought, fully relying on her instincts. Eyes focused, legs stretched, she rushed
over back into the school building, and climbed over the flight of stairs to the fifth floor. She was
in a battle against time, her legs were giving up on her. However, her will remained strong, she
couldn’t let her sister see that message, not even if her life was at stake. Ave looked side-to-side
and saw the locker area. Bingo, she thought to herself. She dashed over to the lockers, not
minding her surroundings any longer. She had finally found her sister’s locker, for the name
Richel Kingsley was engraved upon it. She tinkered over the lock, trying every possible number
formation she thought her sister would put. There was only a minute left, both her hands and
mind were no longer cooperating. This is funny, but how about my birthday? Ava thought. As
she placed the exact numbers of her birthday, the lock opened. She was truly shocked, but she
couldn’t let that emotion take over her, not yet. She grabbed the phone, pressed the
passcode–which she figured out months ago by snooping, and deleted the message from the
phone.

Right at that moment, the bell rang. Ava let out a sigh of relief and continued jumping up and
down, like a young child on a trampoline. Her sister walked towards her with a sign of disgust
and snatched the phone back, snickering at Ava for snooping around again. She had overcome
her battle, and moreover, knew that deep down her sister had too, loved her. And that was all
that mattered.

Narrative
The Visitor

Plan
Start - cozy autumn evening
End/start - heard a thump but no one to be seen
End/start - found a shadow
End/start - fight
End - person had stolen heirloom, brought it back and person is caught

The sun had set over an hour ago, the endless stretch of sky had turned itself into a dark royal
blue. The rustle of leaves dancing in the autumn breeze, the chirping of hovering sparrows, and
the soft drops of coffee dripping from the kettle by the countertop had formed a pleasant yet
angstful melody. Back bent, legs straightened, Jordan was cuddled up upon the sofa, relying on
his knitted blanket for warmth. It was finally the weekend, and he was beyond elated to spend
the whole few days to come binge watching his current favorite show. The thought of such
pleasure after the long week painted his mind with delight. As he reached out for the TV remote
by the coffee table, a sudden and brief thump from his behind entered his ears. Sounding as if a
person had terribly fallen, Jordan dashed for the backdoor.

Approaching the backdoor, he came just to see the door left wide open, blown by the cold wind.
What more is that the heirloom his grandfather passed onto him, which he usually leaves in a
small trinket box on the counter nearby, was nowhere to be found. Still unable to fully gather his
thoughts, he followed his gut and ran for the rectangular opening. Only by the furthest corner of
his eyes could he see a vague shadow leaping from the fences. The anger, but more the worry,
burned within him. Not having even another thought, he chased for the culprit, the so seeming
shadow.

Trailing onto a narrow alleyway, the black figure was slowly fading out of sight. With each
passing second, the sky could only turn ever more dark. Shaking his head both left and right, he
could very soon feel a liquid dripping from his forearm. Lifting his arm, he could see the sharp
black-ish slit. Sensing a charge coming at him from behind, he stumbled forward, turned
towards the fellow and thrusted his elbow with as much force as he could muster, all being done
in a split second. He did it. His attack made it. Being his first fist fight, Jordan was too, caught by
surprise by the reckless, rather unexpected yet successful move he had done, facing the
consequences of such with the excruciating pain now making its way to the contact area.
However, fortunately, the person seemed to be knocked out. Hard.

Jordan kneeled down and flipped over the lying man’s jacket, finding his inherited watch in one
of its pockets. Despite how evil the deed was, Jordan could not help but feel a sense of pity
enveloping him. Observing the thief further, he could see the thousands of washes on the man’s
ragged clothes, the dirty flesh, the bare feet. Being the empathetic person, Jordan lifted the lying
man and brought him into his house, blindly offering him a place to stay until he awakes. When
the man awoke, Jordan let him off with a few words of advice. After all, anyone, even a thief,
even a sinner, should always be given a second chance.

The sun had set over an hour ago, casting the sky into a captivating shade of dark royal blue.
Leaves rustled and danced in the autumn breeze, accompanied by the cheerful chirping of
sparrows and the gentle sound of coffee drops dripping from the kettle on the countertop. The
harmonious yet bittersweet melody filled the air. Jordan, with a slightly hunched back and legs
stretched out, found solace on the sofa, cocooned in a knitted blanket that offered warmth and
comfort. The weekend had finally arrived, and his heart overflowed with joy at the prospect of
indulging in his favorite show for the next few days. The anticipation of such simple pleasures
after a long and tiring week painted his mind with delight. As he reached out for the TV remote
on the coffee table, a sudden, brief thump caught his attention, originating from behind him.
Alerted, Jordan rushed towards the backdoor.
Approaching the backdoor, he discovered it left wide open, swaying in the cold wind. To his
dismay, the precious heirloom passed down by his grandfather, which he usually kept in a small
trinket box on the nearby counter, was nowhere to be found. Struggling to collect his thoughts,
Jordan instinctively followed his intuition and dashed out into the rectangular opening. From the
corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a vague shadow leaping over the fences. Anger and
worry surged within him, propelling him forward without a second thought. He pursued the
mysterious figure, driven by determination to apprehend the culprit.
Chasing the black figure, Jordan found himself in a narrow alleyway, where the silhouette
gradually faded into the darkness. With each passing second, the night sky grew darker,
enveloping him in its obsidian embrace. Shaking his head in disbelief, he suddenly felt a trickle
of liquid running down his forearm. Raising his arm, he discovered a sharp, blackish gash.
Sensing an impending attack from behind, he stumbled forward, swiftly turning to face his
assailant, and instinctively thrust his elbow with all the force he could muster, all within a split
second. He succeeded. His unexpected and impulsive move, his first in a physical altercation,
caught him by surprise, and he now had to endure the searing pain radiating from the point of
contact. However, fortune favored him, as the person before him seemed knocked out cold.
Jordan knelt down and cautiously flipped over the man's jacket, finding his inherited watch
nestled in one of its pockets. Despite the malicious act that had brought them together, Jordan
couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion enveloping him. As he examined the thief further,
he noticed the countless washes on his tattered clothes, the dirt-covered skin, and the absence
of shoes. Being an empathetic individual, Jordan mustered the strength to lift the unconscious
man and carried him into his house, offering him shelter until he regained consciousness. When
the thief finally awoke, Jordan chose to grant him a second chance, offering words of advice and
guidance. For in the end, no matter how flawed or sinful, everyone deserved the opportunity for
redemption.

Narrative
Adventure - Tropical Island

One Last Adventure

As the gushes of pristine blue water kissed the golden gravel-mixed sand, the adventurer’s feet
waded toward the shore. The tiny rocks, fractured seashells, and variations of residue mixed
into the sand, pinched the bottoms of his sensitive feet and sifted between his toes. The
scorching sun set the glimmering sand ablaze; the stinging heat forcing him to agonizingly tiptoe
back into the cooling water ever so often.

His eyes furtively inspected the island, the island hiding what would be his biggest treasure.
Beyond the unruly sand, towering coconut trees, compiled to a forest. Seagulls soared below
the ceaseless stretch of sky, in flocks of what were observed to be tens or fifteens. Intermittent
shrieking, loud, ill-tempered squawks shattered the air. Backing a few steps from the line where
land meets sea, He could see the drastic change in scenery.

Dingy green waves washed in slow rhythmic movements upon the seashore, like an opening
melody to a deafening sonata. The day shifted to an ill lit evening, allowing for only the slightest
moonshine to reflect upon the murky water; a ghostly presence enveloping the entire
archipelago. The looming, dark coconut trees swayed to either side by the chilly intermittent
gushes of wind. Gloominess made the sand seem pale gray, twisted twigs and holed leaves
fluttering on its surface with every single breeze. The sporadic uncanny noises added salt to the
wound. For with each footstep, a sense of someone—or something—overlooking each and
every action of livelihood, would tingle down the spine.

Fear whispered in the adventurer’s ear, a mocking endeavor to his morale.

It’s nothing. It’s normal. I fear nothing.

The mind and the heart contradicted. The confines of his mind were clouded with doubt, turning
it ever more feverish with every passing moment. However, the heart. Always the most valued,
yet never the most truthful. His heart longed for the prize, that sensation forced him miles away
from any thought of returning home.

One hand clawing his head, teeth clenching, the adventurer pushed his body forward into the
eerie forest, limping as he went. It was too late now. He could not, would not turn back. The
homogenous sand vibrated. Diverting his eyes to the vast sea, the ripples of waves grew larger
and fiercer, more vigorous than ever before. His eyes squinted to see the largest wave he had
ever seen, approaching with lightning speed. If the ocean was the predator, the adventurer was
prey.

Still fazed, the adventurer used all his will to move his limbs, thrusting to only one direction:
forward. The tenebrous ring of large branches radiated a sinister demeanor, yet the adventurer
could not care less. The dangers of the forest were of no measure in comparison to the
incoming tsunami. The shaking of land intensified, the plates of the earth mutually grinding. The
large force of wind lifted everything around him. It was expected. The power of man would
always fall short from the power of Mother Nature. As the tsunami rushed to land, the
adventurer could sense all the sand and the rocks getting dragged away into the ocean.
In his last mere seconds, he turned to face the engulfing water. The adventurer closed his eyes,
his final adventure was coming to an end. In a heartbeat, the tsunami crashed forward and
dragged all life behind, back to the waters, to the start point of livelihood.

As the gushes of pristine blue water delicately caressed the golden gravel-mixed sand, the
intrepid adventurer's feet forged a path toward the shore. The tiny rocks, fragmented seashells,
and assorted remnants intermingled within the sand, pricked the soles of his sensitive feet and
sifted between his toes. The scorching sun set the shimmering sand ablaze, its searing heat
compelling him to gingerly retreat into the cooling water at regular intervals.
His eyes stealthily surveyed the island, concealing what would be his greatest treasure. Beyond
the unruly sand, a forest of towering coconut trees stood, creating an imposing spectacle.
Flocks of seagulls soared beneath the never-ending expanse of sky, their intermittent shrills and
irritable squawks shattering the air. Stepping back from the juncture where land meets sea, he
witnessed a dramatic transformation in the landscape.
Dull green waves cascaded onto the seashore in a slow, rhythmic motion, akin to the opening
notes of a haunting sonata. The day transitioned into an ill-lit evening, allowing only a faint
glimmer of moonlight to reflect upon the murky water, lending a ghostly presence to the entire
archipelago. The looming, dark coconut trees swayed in harmony with the sporadic gusts of
chilly wind. The gloominess of the scene rendered the sand a pale gray, with twisted twigs and
perforated leaves fluttering upon its surface with every passing breeze. The sporadic eerie
sounds further added to the disconcerting atmosphere, causing a shiver to run down his spine,
as if someone—or something—watched his every move with a penetrating gaze.
Fear whispered in the adventurer's ear, taunting his resolve.
"It's nothing. It's normal. I fear nothing," he reassured himself, though his mind and heart were at
odds. Doubt clouded his thoughts, fueling his growing unease. However, his heart, that
ever-revered but not always truthful compass, yearned for the prize, pulling him farther away
from any notion of retreat.
With one hand clutching his head and teeth clenched, the adventurer pushed his weary body
forward into the eerie forest, limping with every step. There was no turning back now; it was too
late. The homogeneous sand quivered beneath his feet. Casting a brief glance toward the vast
sea, he noticed the undulating waves growing larger and fiercer than ever before. Squinting, he
could discern the approach of the largest wave he had ever witnessed, hurtling toward him with
lightning speed. If the ocean were a predator, he was its prey.
Undeterred, the adventurer summoned all his strength and propelled himself forward,
determined to move in only one direction: onward. The ominous ring of colossal branches
exuded a sinister aura, but he paid it no heed. The perils of the forest paled in comparison to the
imminent tsunami. The trembling of the earth intensified, the tectonic plates grinding against
each other. The mighty force of the wind lifted everything in its path. It was inevitable. The
power of man would forever pale in comparison to the might of Mother Nature. As the tsunami
relentlessly surged toward the land, the adventurer could sense the sand and rocks being
mercilessly swept away into the unforgiving ocean.
In his last fleeting seconds, he turned to face the engulfing water. Closing his eyes, the
adventurer resigned himself to the inevitable. In the blink of an eye, the tsunami crashed
forward, dragging all life back to the water, returning to the starting point of existence.
EL FYE

Paper 2
Composition
Descriptive Writing
Write a description of a place underground.

The Cafe Below Ground

In the heart of the forever bustling Times Square lays a hidden gem, bestowed by the Cafe
Gods. Passing the array of high-end boutiques, and turning a corner to the right, soon to be
seen iron stairs would lead to a mystifying underground cafe. The walk from the blinding shops
to this passageway was no more than 5 minutes, however the difference between the former
and the latter could never have been so significant. Approaching the iron staircase, its railings
were seen to consist of delicately molded iron; forming curves and ends that were art on their
own. Nevertheless, time tampers it. The dark green painted passage was rusting horribly,
patches of brown oxidized iron seen almost everywhere.

What the passageway seemed to lead to was an endless pit of darkness, however this was as
far away from the truth as possible. Trailing down the steps, a large wooden door was held in
sight. The doorway was incredibly ill-lit, only shone by the blinding lights of the square reaching
the staircase behind. With a little “clink” of the door handle, the door led to the cafe below
ground.

By the entrance, a 1-person cashier was stationed, and a welcome rug greeted all visitors. In a
glimpse, the cafe was lit by warm yellow bulbs, hanging by the ceiling. Potted plants engulfed
every corner of the room and the floor beneath it. It was clear now that the underground cafe
still had another level, deeper in the ground, providing even more underground space. However,
in general, the place still wasn’t in any way big. The cafe itself was also not jam-packed, like the
Square just a few meters from it. However, it still had some occupants. A sense of comfort,
coziness and warmth covered the entire cafe. It was like autumn, but every time of the year. The
air inside was gentle but breezy, the perfect temperature to just sit back, and relax. Additional
pleasant instrumental pieces were being played, by a vintage brown record player, releasing
calmness into the soul.

Moving further inside, bean bags of assorted colors and heaps of blankets and pillows filled the
first floor. The floor itself was made of iron planks, but the large fuzzy red carpet covered this
sight. A large projector screen was presently struck by a movie where several customers
enjoyed with a glass of either coffee or tea; a personal preference. However, several shelves
were filled to the brim with board games, old and new, some even from the 1980s. A well-used
PS3 was also stacked on the shelf, along with two equally well-used controllers. In one of the
corners, was the same iron stair; not a potted green.
This railway led to the lowest floor. The seemingly same carpet of different color, purple, laid
above the floor. In this level, numerous wooden chairs and tables laid all over. Having a sip of a
drink, talking, the customers all had a wide smile on their faces. The waiters and waitresses, not
too many of them, swiftly moved back and forth, and up and down; balancing a tray of delicacies
in one hand. A strong yet comforting aroma, diffusing through the entire cafe, came from one
side of this floor, from what was assumed to be the kitchen. An iron door created a boundary
between the small kitchen and the lounge area, but glass panels made the culinary acts inside
visible to all customers.

From the rusty staircase, to a double leveled comfort spot, the Underground Cafe was a place
like no other.

46 minutes

Narrative Writing
Write a story with the title, ‘Taking A Risk’.

Taking A Risk
The afternoon was sunlit, golden rays of sunlight shining across the concrete ground of campus.
The day’s classes had just come to an end, and Ella was getting ready to head home and
continue her ceaseless trek of studying. However, at that moment, a thought clouded in her
mind’s confines. That very afternoon, was also the deadline for talent show applications; to be
held the very night of that Monday. Ella had always had a deep passion and love for singing,
ever since she was three. Despite being a singer at heart, and in the shower occasionally, she
was never confident enough to surface her abilities. Everyone thought of her as the ‘smart kid’,
unapproachable; but that was never the impression she wanted to portray when someone would
say her name. All she wanted, was to sing. To sing as freely as if all the ropes and strings that
have always been pulling her behind were broken as the heartfelt melodies left her mouth.

It was a risk. After all, singing in the talent show would be the real debut of her long compressed
skill. Despite her fear, an invisible force could not help but pull her into the gymnasium, where
the school board would be taking applications. Her feet walked themselves, and soon, she
found herself registered as the third performer of the night.

The hours fleeted like a gentle breeze, and night came as quickly as ever. Those hours in
between, she spent memorizing the song of her choice, bracing for the sight of hundreds of
people to be watching her as she sang her every note. This was what she wanted, but worry,
anxiety and tension enveloped her soul.

Nevertheless, Ella was now backstage; only several minutes before her performance.

It’s okay. I’m gonna be fine. This is my dream, it always had been,
Those words echoed in her ear up until the show’s host called out her name, “Please welcome
our third act of the night, Ella Jones!”
Back straight, hands clutching onto the microphone, Ella reached center stage. At that moment,
she positioned herself and closed her eyes.

A small voice whispered, “Go for it! For our dream!”

The figure of her young self arose from the complete blackness in her sight, and finally she
opened her eyes, heart and voice.

The melodious harmonies of her sweet, light voice engulfed the whole theater, where the talent
show was hosted, turning the stage to a garden in heaven. Her voice created an imagery, a
sensation. Blooms of flowers, fluttering butterflies and chirping birds all flourishing majestically in
the garden configured by her voice. Hitting her high notes as smoothly and as flawless as
possible, she felt like a white pigeon, soaring beneath the infinite blue stretch of sky. That feeling
got the best of her, and she smiled foolishly, dancing and twirling around the wooden floor, the
beats of her feet matching the rhythm of her voice. The world around her grew silent and she
did not care about the audience now, about what they thought, about anything else. Ella was
living in the moment, her moment, and she had never felt better, any more satisfied before.
Ending her song by slowly lowering the volume of the lyrics, she finally faced the audience
head-on, striking the ending fairy. Waves of cheers, screams and claps formed a beautiful
ocean from her debut’s witnesses.

Ella had finally broken through the bars of her self-deliberating prison. She lived the night of her
dreams, and found where she truly belonged: under the shining lights, and on the stage,
spreading music second to none.

45 minutes

Paper 1
Reading Comp

✅
Question 1

✅
a) 1. To raise awareness about the current decline in global tiger population.

✅
2. To encourage tiger conservation.

✅
b)(i) almost extinct/completely swept out from the surface of the Earth

✅
(ii) chose to do something about it to fix it pledged, promised

✅
c) 1. Over 95% of the world’s tigers have been lost. Since 20th century/short time
2. There are only 3900 tigers left in the wild.

✅
Tigers (wild) focused only in asia/1 continent.

✅
d)(i)1. Certain diseases, some fatal, spread like epidemics and can affect the tigers.

✅
2. Genetic diversity is declining at an alarming rate. lack of
(ii) The study of health management in the wildlife is neglected by humans , but this
knowledge can be important in saving and conserving the wildlife, like the tigers. If this was not
neglected, more lives could have been saved. Moreover, humans desire to improve their

✅ ✅
livelihood and create cities etc. This takes up a lot of land that used to be wildlife/tiger
habitats , and causes them to not have much living space and have to live in captivity kinda
awarded mark. This can cause the numbers of tiger population to decrease as well. keep from

✅
wild/in captivity
e) Firstly, tigers have valuable products that can be used as gifts and souvenirs , or jewelry

✅
and other items, and in order to get them, people choose to kill these tigers. Because of having

✅
to poach the tigers, these products are seen as status symbols , and people would like to
flaunt these possessions , thus this comes in high demand. This causes more killing, and

✅
people would think that it is acceptable because they would be able to get use of these tigers.

✅
Furthermore, with the lack of habitat, tigers may find prey in domestic livestock , which are
owned by people. For revenge , people kill or capture these tigers.
Make money, worry for/protect livestock, tradition/continues centuries' old practice

Full mark

✅
Summary Writing

✅ ✅
The current population of tigers are mostly in captivity rather than in the wild. Many of these

✅
tigers are kept personally at places where they aren’t suitable , a fake security.
Furthermore, these owners often do not learn the proper ways of raising these tigers . In
addition, there are many places like roadside attractions, which promotes the tigers interaction

✅ ✅
with the public. This can be bad for the tigers, due to their original nature contradicting
entertainment , and for the health and safety of the people . Moreover, this causes the

✅
tendency to breed more tigers, but this is usually improperly done by private breeding facilities

✅ ✅
and causes issues from birth , thus tigers become unable to be released into the wild. Tiger

✅
farms are also brutal, as they create higher demand for tiger products and worsen
enforcement efforts , making an obstacle for the welfare of wild tigers.

20-ish minutes
Full mark

Directed Writing
News Report

Citizen Hoards All Water Supply, Others in Thirst

By: Callista Dominique Fan
Recent events on an island, which consists of blockades and water rationing, have left all
inhabitants thirsty for clean water. The inhabitants made a move to Aljafar, an inhabitant who
was caught hoarding heaps of water supply, two days ago.

Several inhabitants on an island sneaked into a mansion, late at night, in an attempt to take its
storage of clean water. The owner of this house was one of the island’s inhabitants, named Don
Aljafar and his family. Don Aljafar occupied a vast stone mansion on the top of a hill, easily the
largest house in the whole island. Other inhabitants had come across Aljafar swimming in a pool
full of freshwater, despite the water shortage faced by all the other occupants of the island. Two
citizens, Marchand and Ali, tried to educate Aljafar of the water rationing ongoing; seeking for
Aljafar to share his supply of water. When these efforts proved to not be fruitful, the two and
several other island inhabitants decided to make a move, aiming to ensure fairness. By the time
they arrived, Aljafar’s family had stored the water in casks, compelling them to barge inside the
actual building of the house. As the group reached the cellar, where Aljafar hid with casks and
casks of water, they pleaded for the water, with no result. By this time, the group attacked the
bolted cellar door with heavy objects, even an ax. Soon Aljafar gave up, and the group made
their way to the casks of pristine freshwater, drinking with all their might.

All the thirst was a result of a blockade present in the island. This blockade prevented many
daily necessities carrying ships from entering the port of the island, and therefore caused water
rationing to be implemented. Living with only 1 liter of clear water a day, taps have also been
turned off. Daily routines like washing and bathing were forced to be done using saltwater by the
circumstances. Islanders also utilized used water, coming from visitors who rented the houses
they built. According to Marchand and Ali, during this time, fewer cars were seen around. The
city seemed lethargic as well, quieter than ever before. They also mentioned that the people
seemed dried up, crumbling apart, close to becoming dead flesh. Economy deteriorated down a
slippery slope. The adults did not have the power to work or trade, no income whatsoever. To
add salt to the wound, the children weren’t mentally nor physically able to take part in any
learning activities.

However, today, the blockade was lifted, and water rationing was no longer needed. Supplies
were finally able to reach the island and its islanders. In this time, Aljafar and his wife have
surfaced complaints regarding the incident occurring in his house a few days ago to the
authorities. Aljafar mentioned how unsafe the whole incident was to him and his family, the other
citizens were banging on the door with objects that could easily cause harm. Moreover, he
added on how the act done by his fellow islanders, to sneak into a house that was not theirs,
and freely touching and taking its furniture, was both invading the family’s privacy and incredibly
disrespectful. Despite all that, the authorities were aware of Aljafar’s deeds of hoarding all the
water supply, and the warnings and reluctances of the inhabitants and Aljafar himself.

The authorities have yet to decide on what they make and do of the incident of the preceding
days, but for the time being, with the blockade removed, no such incidents would be expected to
take place in the near future. All the islanders, including Marchand and Ali have gotten back to
their usual routines, allowing the whole island to thrive both in health and economy; just as
before.