Creative Writing: Revenge


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Minute after minute the phone had rang in both rooms as people young
and old, had paid their mourning respects. The room had been in utter
silence, it had been as if the phone had been demanding someone pick
it up. It had become very irritating for most of us. I had seen the
anger rising up in my uncle, as he has an extremely short temper. He
had been trying to clear the furniture out of the front and living
room.

For everyone in my family, it had been an occasion they had never
experienced before, in their lives. Every person in my family, who was
in our house at that time, had swollen red eyes from crying, and dark
circles from being awake most of that night. When I had heard about
what had happened, a big lump had slowly started to form in my throat.
A lump I could not swallow, a lump that would not let me talk and sent
me into a deep remembrance of my past memories that I had shared with
my granddad. As everyone in the room had been silent, the only thing
that had brought me back to reality had been the shrieks of the
telephone.

I had been helping my uncle in the dining room, as we emptied out the
front and living room furniture. The whole dining room had looked
gloomy, as usually the light would have been beaming in through the
glass doors, as bright as a hot summer’s day. We had cleared all the
furniture, except for the big, white, u-shaped sofas in both rooms
that we could not get through the doors, which as a result of, my
uncle had decided to leave it there.

When we had finished, my uncle had gone and sat in the front room with
my dad and all the other men, who had been grieving for my beloved
granddad. Then I had been alone with nothing to do. I had looked out
into the long corridor. It had felt so empty, as if all my insides had

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turned inside out. The front door had stood wide open, as more and
more people had poured into our house. Outside, the rain had been
gushing down, beating against the windows, like drums being played at
a great musical in the Sydney opera house. The wind had blown my hair
back and had sent shivers up my bare legs and under my pink strap
dress.

I had been sitting in the corridor, when my uncle had come out of the
mens room and had gone into the kitchen.

“Muna, come and help me in here,” he had said.

“Cha Chu bJee, (uncle), I can’t. Mums said I’m not allowed in the
kitchen as i create a hurricane,” I had answered.

“Forget about that right now. Come and help me,” he had replied.

O baying him, I had gone in and asked him what he was doing.

“Serving dinner to the men,” he had responded.

“WHAT!” I had enquired. As what he had said was very surprising.

He had repeated the same astonishing words again, though I still could
not believe him. My uncle, whom had thought himself higher than
everyone else, was serving dinner.

“Muna, go and put these dishes in the mens” room whilst I pour the
curry.”

I had felt so grown up inside me as I had served the delicious dinner.
Never had I ever served dinner, as my mum would not let me. After I
had helped my uncle, I had gone and sat in the dining room.

I had tried to concentrate on the furniture, but nothing could have
lead my thoughts away from my beloved granddad. My eyes had started to
fill with tears, the, slowly, I had started to cry. I had tasted the
salty water of the tears on my lips, as they had slid down my face.

At that time my uncle had walked in/. He had instructed me to set the
computer up, install the webcam and sign in onto the internet.

As my uncle had walked back into the mens room, I had saw my cousin
khadija come into our house, walking in her usual penguin and babyish
way. She had looked at me and had turned away as she had given me a
look of disgust. I had acted as if I had not seen it, and continued to
ignore her.

Half an hour later, I had finished setting the computer up, and had
gone to call my uncle.

“I’ve set the computer up,” I had told him.

“Have you signed onto the internet?” he had asked.

“Yes,” I had replied.

“Okay I’m coming. I’m just going to the bathroom,” he had said.

I had felt a little thirsty, so I had decided to have something to
drink. I had walked into the kitchen, that had looked as dark as a
graveyard on a moonless night. ‘Sssssssss’ had gone the gas in the
bottle of coke as I had slowly twisted off the lid. I had been pouring
the drink into a glass when I had heard a loud cry of laughter come
from upstairs. I had not been sure, but I had had a feeling that it
had come from my room. As I had stepped onto the upstairs landing, my
uncle had come out of the bathroom and had walked into my room.

As I had stepped into my room, I had seen my cousin Khadija sitting on
the edge of my bed with her little sister. She had a cone of henna in
her hand, and she had been laughing like a hyena, but a bit quieter
than before. Compared to the atmosphere downstairs, at that time, her
laughter had seemed so loud. Downstairs it had been pin drop silence.

I had then seen the reason why she was laughing, but I had not found
it funny. Anger had risen up inside me as I had stared at my bed
sheet. I had known she had done that on purpose. Just to get revenge
on me. I had clenched my fists tightly, as I had an urge to hit her.
The more she had laughed, the more the anger had rose up inside me. I
had tried harder and harder to control it. Who had she thought she
was? She had barged into my room without permission. There had been no
way she was going to get away at that time. I had to get my own back
on her. I had known I would.


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