Narrative

I could see that the man was very unhappy. As I watched him sitting by himself at
the bus stop, a big brown paper parole beside him, my curiousity was aroused. I also
felt strangery troubled. I sensed that the old man felt confused and needed someone to
talk to. Yet I held back. The party was in half an hour. So I could not make the time for
him. Besides, who was I to intrude into another persons privacy? These thoughts ran
through my mind as I boarded the bus. As the bus pulled away from the curb, I glanced
at the lone figure on the bridge.

A few minute later, I was back at the same place. He was still here, still alone. I
sat down beside him. Other people were ignoring us.

I struck up a conversation with him. At first, he was startled and was silent. As
time passed by and he could see that I was sincere, he began to talk.

His name was Arthur Tan. Fifty years ago, he had been a happily married man
with two lovely children performing well at school. It seemed that nothing could upset his
beautiful life.

Then, on one cruise, his family decided to go along with him for a family vacation.
It was a hectic time for him, but he thoroughly enjoyed their company. Everything went
well until one night, when taking over the wheel, he fell asleep. His ship collided with an
oil tanker and both sank. He was the sole survivor of this tragedy.

Since that fatefull day, Arthur had lived a miserable life. With his family gone, his
life seemed to lose all meaning. He spent his days in despondency and guilt. His friends
shunned him, hardly anyone spoke a kind word to him, he rarely saw a friendly face. He
showed me the brown parole. He had collected all the moments of his happier life
before the tragedy- his uniforms, certificates and his family photographs. He had
wrapped all these precious things and tied them up in the big brown paper parole.

As I looked at his collection of memories, I understand his sadness. The people

in the photographs were laughfing and smiling happily. The Arthur Tan in the
photographs was so different from the man I could see now in front of me. He started to
reminisce and I let him. I did not care that I was already late for the party. This was more
important. He talked for two hours, telling me about his family and the happy times he
had with them. Finally, he looked at me, his eyes brimming with tears and said Thank
you.

Then he got up and left. I found myself sitting alone, hardly noticing the trickle of
tears on my cheeks, watching him walk away. I was glad I had been there for him as all
he had wanted was a person to talk to.
Eavesdropping

The day was cold and windy as I set off towards Janets house. I knew that she
would not be in but I had to collect the pair of roller skates that she had borrowed. As I
approached her house, I noticed a strange, black Ferrari in the driveway. It seemed
unusual I as the Holts were never in on Tuesdays. Mrs Holt had threatre practice every
afternoon while Jane had ballest lessons on that day. Mrs Holt had become more
involved in pursuing her acting career ever since Janes father died.

As I grew suspicious of the car, I quietly made my way up to the house. I stopped
in my tracks when I heard voices. I realized that it was not very ethical but I could not
help it. What I heard made my hair stand on end. Mrs Holt was conspiring with someone
to get rid of her daughter. I was awere that Mrs Holt was Janes stepmother, but plotting
to kill Jane was just unthinkable.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of footsteps leaving the house.
As the door opened, I heard the mans voice say that he would be meeting Old Grumps
at the Fishermans Inn that evening. I caught sight of the mysterious owner of the black
Ferrari. He was tall, broad-shouldered and very good-looking compared to Janes late
father. As I watched the car speed out of sight, thoughts raced through my mind. My
skates were forgotten and all I could think of was how to save Jane from this plot.

I dashed as fast as I could to the police station. To complicated matters further ,

the policeman refused to believe me, claiming that my report was too far-fetched.
Realising that I could not convince the police, I decided to take matters into my hands. I
called my two best friends and told them of the plot. We decided to go to Janes house
and snoop about in the hope of finding something that would serve as evidence of what
I overheard.

We found the house empty. We climed through an open window and had just
enough time to hide behind a cupboard when we heard a key turning in the lock. We
were surprised when Jane walked in. Rushing up to her, I told her of the plot. Jane
listened attentively but found it unbelievable and unlikely that her stepmother, with
whom she got on extremely well, would plot or even think about killing her stepdaughter.
We were so absorbed in our conversation that we did not hear Mrs Holts arrival. Jane
immediately confronted her stepmother with the alleged plot and the fact that there was
a witness to the conspiracy between Mrs Holt and the owner of the black Ferrari.

Mrs Holt suddenly convulsed in laughter,unable to control herself over what she
had just heard. She explained that both she and Mike Smith, the owner of the car, were
rehearsing their lines. The director of the play was the Old Grumps referred to earlier.
She even showed us the script.
 I then realized how very foolish I had been in jumping to the wrong conclusion.
My over-active imagination and suspicions were based entirely on what I had overhead.
I hung my head in shame and embarrassment as Mrs Holt admonished me for being too
hasty. Thank goodness, the police had not been called in! I decided that in future, I
would always think twice before reacting.

Yes, Look before you leap!