UPPER-INTERMEDIATE (B2) LEVEL ARTICLE
This short story asks if it is better to live safely or dangerously.
Scars
What shall I write about?
Everyone around me is silently scribbling down their minds. Their pencils are scratching across their papers like a cat’s claws, leaving ideas behind them like scars on white skin. I have made no scars on my paper because I have no ideas. I feel like I have no memories. My 20th birthday was last week, so I should have just as much experience and just as many memories as everybody else in this room, and yet I have nothing. They are all scribbling away with their heads down and serious expressions on their faces, but my head is like a large, empty room. I am standing in the middle of the room calling out for inspiration and listening, but all that comes back are the echoes of my own voice.
“What shall I write about?” I yell. The sound bounces back to me like a basketball; hitting every wall and making the air around me vibrate with nervous tension. I listen carefully to the echo, trying to feel the sounds with my skin. They wash over me like a warm wind. The sound of my voice has changed – becoming deeper and slower, getting rounder, as if spoken by a very fat man. I like the sound. It is soothing, so as I listen to it, I can forget about the exam… THE EXAM!!!
I really did forget about it! How much time has passed? Ten minutes? Twenty? As soon as the examiner handed out the exam papers, everybody else read the question and dived straight in. They started scribbling and scratching… and I just sat. Am I empty? Am I a plastic doll who looks almost normal from the outside, but is just a hollow copy of a normal person? I look down at the question again and then around me at the other students. Each of them is still writing frantically – scarring the clean, white paper with their pencils.
Maybe the problem is that I have no scars. I am not talking metaphorically – I really don’t have a single scar on my body. My skin is pure and unspoilt, like fresh snow on a winter’s morning. I’ve always been such a careful person. I don’t stay out too late, don’t hang out with dodgy people, brush my teeth before and after every meal, and watch my diet. I always carry my umbrella, even on sunny days, but I usually don’t go out if it’s cold or wet. And I never do dangerous sports or activities. I live safely, and I guess that’s why I don’t have any scars.
So here I am, the only person in the exam who has nothing to write, the only person with no experiences to draw upon, the only person with no memories worth sharing, the only person with no scars. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake with my whole life. I don’t want to get hurt or feel sad. I don’t want to be cold or wet, or to have rotten teeth. I don’t want to be ignored or rejected by people who I meet if I go out. However, I also don’t want to be sitting in an end-of-year exam at university with a blank piece of paper on my desk and nothing in my head to put on the paper.
What was the thing in my past that made me so cautious and what would my life be like now if I had been more adventurous? During my first few weeks of university, the other guys on the course invited me out almost every day, but I never went with them and eventually they stopped asking. In high school I never participated in sports – I just tried to stay as far away from the ball as possible at all times. On family holidays I stayed close to my mum all the time. If we visited a theme park, I only went on the smallest, safest rides. I’ve never been on a date in my life, and when I go to the cinema, I always wait until the lights come back on before leaving because it’s safer going down the stairs. I don’t have a single scar on my skin because I’ve never cut myself, never fallen, never banged my head or burnt my finger, and that’s because I’ve never taken a risk.
Yes, it’s true… my life has been a waste! I promise that as soon as this exam is over I will start living properly. I will go out and meet people, make friends and party, ride bicycles, swim in the sea, jump over walls and accept any and every new challenge. I will live!
That doesn’t help me with this exam, though. There are just five minutes left and my page is still blank. I am going to fail.
I look down in despair at the empty page.
Just a minute… what’s this? The page isn’t empty! It is covered, from top to bottom, with my wild and untidy handwriting. The page is scarred with my thoughts, memories and ideas. I have written down everything I was thinking just now. I look up again at the question:
‘Is it better to play it safe or to take risks? Write an essay giving your opinion.’
Everyone around me is silently scribbling down their minds. Their pencils are scratching across their papers like a cat’s claws, leaving ideas behind them like scars on white skin. I have made no scars on my paper because I have no ideas. I feel like I have no memories. My 20th birthday was last week, so I should have just as much experience and just as many memories as everybody else in this room, and yet I have nothing. They are all scribbling away with their heads down and serious expressions on their faces, but my head is like a large, empty room. I am standing in the middle of the room calling out for inspiration and listening, but all that comes back are the echoes of my own voice.
“What shall I write about?” I yell. The sound bounces back to me like a basketball; hitting every wall and making the air around me vibrate with nervous tension. I listen carefully to the echo, trying to feel the sounds with my skin. They wash over me like a warm wind. The sound of my voice has changed – becoming deeper and slower, getting rounder, as if spoken by a very fat man. I like the sound. It is soothing, so as I listen to it, I can forget about the exam… THE EXAM!!!
I really did forget about it! How much time has passed? Ten minutes? Twenty? As soon as the examiner handed out the exam papers, everybody else read the question and dived straight in. They started scribbling and scratching… and I just sat. Am I empty? Am I a plastic doll who looks almost normal from the outside, but is just a hollow copy of a normal person? I look down at the question again and then around me at the other students. Each of them is still writing frantically – scarring the clean, white paper with their pencils.
Maybe the problem is that I have no scars. I am not talking metaphorically – I really don’t have a single scar on my body. My skin is pure and unspoilt, like fresh snow on a winter’s morning. I’ve always been such a careful person. I don’t stay out too late, don’t hang out with dodgy people, brush my teeth before and after every meal, and watch my diet. I always carry my umbrella, even on sunny days, but I usually don’t go out if it’s cold or wet. And I never do dangerous sports or activities. I live safely, and I guess that’s why I don’t have any scars.
So here I am, the only person in the exam who has nothing to write, the only person with no experiences to draw upon, the only person with no memories worth sharing, the only person with no scars. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake with my whole life. I don’t want to get hurt or feel sad. I don’t want to be cold or wet, or to have rotten teeth. I don’t want to be ignored or rejected by people who I meet if I go out. However, I also don’t want to be sitting in an end-of-year exam at university with a blank piece of paper on my desk and nothing in my head to put on the paper.
What was the thing in my past that made me so cautious and what would my life be like now if I had been more adventurous? During my first few weeks of university, the other guys on the course invited me out almost every day, but I never went with them and eventually they stopped asking. In high school I never participated in sports – I just tried to stay as far away from the ball as possible at all times. On family holidays I stayed close to my mum all the time. If we visited a theme park, I only went on the smallest, safest rides. I’ve never been on a date in my life, and when I go to the cinema, I always wait until the lights come back on before leaving because it’s safer going down the stairs. I don’t have a single scar on my skin because I’ve never cut myself, never fallen, never banged my head or burnt my finger, and that’s because I’ve never taken a risk.
Yes, it’s true… my life has been a waste! I promise that as soon as this exam is over I will start living properly. I will go out and meet people, make friends and party, ride bicycles, swim in the sea, jump over walls and accept any and every new challenge. I will live!
That doesn’t help me with this exam, though. There are just five minutes left and my page is still blank. I am going to fail.
I look down in despair at the empty page.
Just a minute… what’s this? The page isn’t empty! It is covered, from top to bottom, with my wild and untidy handwriting. The page is scarred with my thoughts, memories and ideas. I have written down everything I was thinking just now. I look up again at the question:
‘Is it better to play it safe or to take risks? Write an essay giving your opinion.’
Here are some questions on the text:
-
This character thinks he has spent his time badly in his life.
a) True
b) False
c) Does not say
- The character does not manage to answer the question in the exam.
a) True
b) False
c) Doesn't say
- The character has never been sick.
a) True
b) False
c) Doesn't say
- You could describe the character as being:
a) fearful
b) reckless
c) adventurous
d) carefree
Language note
When we tell stories, we try to make things as interesting as possible. To do this, we use lots of adjectives, adverbs and metaphorical language. This kind of language helps the reader imagine what is happening more clearly.
Compare these sentences:
Another way to describe in detail is to use ‘like’, ‘as _____ as’ or ‘as if’. Look for examples of these in the story.
Compare these sentences:
- ‘The rain was pouring down.’
- ‘The cold, miserable rain was relentlessly pouring down.’
Another way to describe in detail is to use ‘like’, ‘as _____ as’ or ‘as if’. Look for examples of these in the story.
- ‘Their pencils are scratching across their papers like a cat’s claws.’
- ‘The sound of my voice became deeper, as if spoken by a very fat man.’
