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"English Essay: The Explorer and the Cactus”
An Original Short Story By: Gina
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Imagine this reader.
Imagine me, standing in front of a large group of young adults, on their last day until break.
College students. College students in for a nice treat.
Now imagine me taking out a piece of paper and clearing my throat, grabbing the attention of all the students.
"Allow me to start off my time here with a little story." I would say, unfolding the packet of pages in my fingers, "A story of a young high school girl that I think you all would learn a thing or two from."
I would look out at the crowd of eyes. Some look confused, others bored, and even a few roll their eyes. Luckily, many of them seem genuinely interested, encouraging me forward.
I would half-smile shyly as I clear my throat once more before beginning to read off everything written on the paper.
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A few years back, a high school English teacher had assigned an in class essay to her collection of students.
It was simple enough. The topic: Describe yourself in one word. Easy enough, right?
So, while all the students were writing only half of a page of work, and staring blankly at nothing, or doodling on notebooks, one student was writing away. A young girl.
She scratched and scribbled at the paper, not looking up until she was sure she was finished. The teacher noticed this and called her to the front of the class to share what she wrote.
This is what she said once she arrived to the front of the scope:
"My word of choice..." she began, “Cactus.”
Cactus.
You heard that correct, yes.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. 'Cactus? What's that supposed to mean?'
Well, dear reader, your questions shall be answered.
"Cactus… Get it? I'm abstract!” the girl smiled as the class chuckled, even the teacher, “I'm random and funny. And, I prefer hotter weather! Makes sense, right?”
Another expression of amusement rose throughout the room as the class laughed once more. After a few minutes the girl beamed at their delight and continued,
"Also, I give off a weird vibe. Almost as If I'm covered in needles. Because of this, my social options are limited. Although there is the occasional bystander who will stop to admire me and my different personality and appearance, not many would risk battling my thorns to get to the deep down area that I keep the real me hidden. Some have tried and endured the pain for a short while, but no one has really been able to fully open me up and get to the creative fluid that flows within me.”
The students, unaware if a punch-line was arriving soon, sat confused, scanning the room and matching eyes with every other questioning look. The girl dismissed this and continued,
“Some just use me. They keep me around to act as some sort of decoration. They water me using nice images and thoughts to try and keep me from withering away. I enjoy this. Buts it’s never enough. No one, not one person, has ever dared to even search inside me. To try to find out what really makes me tick."
