The following is a short story that will make no sense.
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On the plate was the most beautiful, elaborately decorated slice of cake I had ever seen. It was chocolate, adorned with intricate patterns of icing sugar and delicate chocolate - I dare say they deserve to be called chocolate sculptures - on the top. I looked up at the person who handed me the plate, but I couldn't make out any physical features. Man or woman? Young or old? I couldn't tell. It spoke while handing me a silver fork, in a sweet-sounding but slightly electronic voice: "Have some cake. But it's only for you; you can't share it with anyone else."
Can't share it? I looked over at my friends, all huddled in the far corner of the cramped room. They were all weak from malnutrition, and a few of them looked like they were on the brink of starvation. Surely the person wouldn't mind if I gave the cake to them. I walked over to them, and proceeded to feed a piece of cake to the weakest-looking of my friends. But just as his teeth were about to sink into the cake, it turned into a pile of dust and fell through the fork onto the ground.
"It's only for you; you can't share it with anyone else," the person repeated in that saccharine-sweet voice, as I stared dumbfounded at the pile of dust on the ground. Then the same friend I was trying to feed spoke up: "Don't worry about us and just eat the cake. Better for one of us to eat rather than having everyone starve." I looked hesitantly at the slice of cake, feeling the stares of my friends and the mysterious person on me. Finally, I took a bite.
It was horrible. I have no explanation as to why a cake that looked so appetising could in fact taste so disgusting. Before I knew it, that mouthful of cake was already lying on the ground.
"Why did you spit out the cake?" I turned around and saw my friend, with tears in his eyes. The same went for the rest of them huddled in that corner. "You are the only one who gets cake. Why aren't you eating it?" Behind me, he or she or it also started talking: "I prepared the cake specially for you. It is meant only for you, and no one else. Why do you not like it?" They were right. I am the only one who gets cake, while everyone else is starving. What right do I have to complain? I braced myself, and took another bite.
Mouth after mouth I just shoveled it in. It seemed that the more of it I ate, the worse it became. Soon it started to burn in my mouth and sting my tongue. My eyes watered with every bite. But in the presence of my friends and the mysterious It, I continued eating. After what seemed like an eternity, the plate was finally clean. Fighting to keep the tears from flowing, I whispered in a shaky voice: "Delicious."
"Good," the mysterious figure said. "I made more." With that, it held out an enormous cake, out of which a single slice was missing. Struggling to steady my words, I spoke softly: "Great."
But was it sincere?
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I miss writing stories for english instead of boring argumentative essays. but even back then, i was constrained in the topics i could write about. i still remember one time in sec 4 i wrote a story about an insane person en route to a mental hospital, from the insane person's point of view. the teacher didn't really like that. i told myself that one day i will write a completely nonsensical and unconventional story just for the sake of it. and now i have :D
