Thank you very much for participating in the Biopage Storytelling Writing Contest! The results are now available on the contest webpage: https://www.biopage.com/contest It was a very difficult decision to make! We received many high-quality essays from around the world, it was so difficult to pick the winners. We have “Children of war” from Shobana and “Peace is priceless” from David to reflect the ongoing wars in the world. We have “Where there is will, there is a way” from Shreya, “The warmth of the garden” from Brandon, and “Is it me?” from Emilia to describe their experience with mental disorders. We have “Gifts of December” from Lily about the lighter note of life. And we have “Seed of greatness” from Stephene about hope and growth in poetry! The winners will receive separate emails regarding award certificates and prizes. We are sorry that most of you will be disappointed; but remember you are all winners! Many participants appreciated the contest as an opportunity to stay away from the noisy social media, to really start writing again to express themselves and to tell stories. Please keep in mind that this is a recurrent contest; you are welcome to write another story and submit again! Please continue to stay in the community of Biopage, using the website or more conveniently the iOS app or Android app to continue to write, and to stay in touch with your friends and other writers. If you use the iOS app or Android app, please rate and write a review at the App Store or Google Play. We are giving out an Amazon gift card to each user who wrote a review about Biopage at the App Store. Please email admin@biopage.com with your App Store or Google Play ID name and a screenshot of the review, and the gift card may arrive in 2 weeks. A certificate of participation of the writing contest will be available upon request by email. Thank you and happy writing! The Biopage Writing Contest Committee
Little teacher Station. My all exams finished and I was waiting for bus. At that time sudden, I saw little, so pretty, sympathetic, clean and stylishly dressed a boy. He is about 4 or 5 years old. He used to collect garbage around the sidewalk so take it to special conteniars. I was watching the clever boy during a few time. This Street crowded, in this case lot of people look at the boy and shying for casting own garbage to walkway. They watched the boy a fewer time and blush from own behavior. I also watched the position so thought about doing goodness for enviroment. The goodness absolutely return to our life, even will influence to future. Definitely, being decent isn't depend on to age or format of humans. Those only depend on a person's soul and behavior. I figure out, the boy teach me that lesson, besides stayed at my mind as little teacher.
Station. My all exams finished and I was waiting for bus. At that time sudden, I saw little, so pretty, sympathetic, clean and stylishly dressed a boy. He is about 4 or 5 years old. He used to collect garbage around the sidewalk so take it to special conteniars. I was watching the clever boy during a few time. This Street crowded, in this case lot of people look at the boy and shying for casting own garbage to walkway. They watched the boy a fewer time and blush from own behavior. I also watched the position so thought about doing goodness for enviroment. The goodness absolutely return to our life, even will influence to future. Definitely, being decent isn't depend on to age or format of humans. Those only depend on a person's soul and behavior. I figure out, the boy teach me that lesson, besides stayed at my mind as little teacher.
COVID, lets face it -- It was the most miserable part of everyone's life. The world outside my window seemed to fade into a grayscale existence. Isolation swallowed me. Each day was a struggle, a battle against the sadness and the feeling of loneliness that threatened to consume me. With no one to talk to, even though I was living with my parents, I didn't necessarily had the greatest relationship with them. I was a in my pre-teens and had the same temper and habits as any other pre- teen kid – staying in my room all day, not showering for days, not talking to anyone. Life became so monotonous and repetitive during that time. Now that I look back at it I am damn sure I was depressed, I used to cry for hours and hours. Desperation led me to find solace in stories and music, my only companions during those long, desolate days. I devoured books that transported me to different worlds, where the characters faced challenges and emerged victorious. Music became my refuge, each note a soothing balm to the wounds within. The end of the lockdown marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I started going to school again and made started interacting with people, I may have created an alter ego for myself in order to appear lively so people would like me. I talked to these classmates of mine whom I wouldn't have talked to if they weren't my classmates and as we spent our time together I started getting closer to them building the bonds of friendship which I desperately needed after that depressive phase. During our exam season we would study together on meet and often go to watch movies and plan house parties together. I felt a surge of gratitude for the friendships that had pulled me from the depths of despair. Together, we explored the world outside our confined spaces, breathing in the fresh air and savouring the colours that had returned to my life. The once-silent heart now echoed with laughter and the joyous symphony of friendship. My three companions had become my whole world, and I realized that even in the darkest times, the universe conspired to bring light into our lives. No longer held captive by depression, I embraced the newfound happiness that radiated from within. The stories and music that once provided solace were now interwoven with the tales of my own journey, a testament to the transformative power of connection. As the famous saying goes “tough times don't last but tough people do.” This picture was taken recently in house party for new years
Enchanted waters of Karakalpakstan Once in the center of the Republic of Karakalpakstan there was a charming Aral Sea, famous for its clear waters and quiet beauty. The locals believed that the sea had a mysterious power, protecting its lands, blessed with a rich harvest. One summer day, a young fisherman named Arman rode his boat to his village for fishing. As he penetrated deeper into the sea, he noticed a bright light radiating from the water. Oddly enough, he followed the light and found a hidden bay hidden inside the cliffs of the Aral Sea. To Arman's surprise, a group of ethereal mermaids living in the mystical blind met ethereal creatures with bright tails. They echoed across the sea and sang charming melodies that filled the air with magic and admiration. Mermaids told tales about the ancient guardians of the sea and the importance of maintaining its natural splendor. Inspired by the wisdom of mermaids, Arman returned to his village and brought the community together to protect the Aral Sea and its surrounding ecosystems. Together, they organized beach cleaning, sustainable fishing practices, and educational programs to raise awareness of the ecological importance of the sea. Years passed, and the waters of the Aral Sea remained clean, overflowing with living marine life. Travelers who came far and wide visited Karakalpakstan and watched the amazing Island Sea, which today is revered as a symbol of environmental harmony and community management. The Aral Sea of Karakalpakstan continued to flourish, serving as an eternal reminder of the transformative power and eternal magic of preserving nature.
My interest in literature was not born when I saw the light for the first time or when I started writing. Literature was born when I learned that a simple action can limit your dreams and the emergence of your being. When I was a child I became ill with something that at first seemed to be nothing bad, but eventually pushed me to the limit of my hopes. I didn't know what I had and neither did my parents. That yellow tone in my skin distinguished me from the healthy ones. The illness was momentary, but at the same time hard. I began my rest by stopping going to school, abandoning my classroom and my siblings and parents with it. My illness prevented me from taking care of the children and my sister's childhood. I settled in a room with four walls where darkness and solitude were my best allies. My mother and father never left me alone, every breakfast, lunch and dinner I would lovingly observe each one's face, I could not eat with them but I could contemplate their existence. - This would not last long. My mother told me My believing self resurfaced with those words, hope returned from where it left off and the possibilities of moving forward arose as never before. But boredom took hold of me, I didn't know what to do other than sleep and play. Although I was very critical from a very young age, I attributed it to the debates that went on in my family and not to books, because I read them for school. As my greatest hobby was pottery, which I could no longer touch or look at. One of those cold and boring days. My older sister came with many books. She watched me and did not hesitate to mention that each book contained a world inside. I didn't save the best reaction because I always considered books as tools for school and not for a being who was locked up. As time went by my being sought the need for distraction but not with books. - Not with that. I mentioned madly Every moment was torture, until my curious instinct awakened the intention to see only the cover of the books and if there was the need to read, it would be the books with pictures. I started with the book "El chibolo Pilas", interesting, but very fast to read, that work, kept everything that its title says, a boy who was looking for happiness, but was misunderstood in the world. Then, I was interested in reading a story titled "The Dolphin", those pages full of letters and images awakened my desire to read even more, I understood how the human being seeks the meaning of life, the importance of perseverance and faith, that faith that I lacked and had to develop. Allowing me to know new worlds from my room was the beginning of the being I am now. Books introduced me to literature and the power to imagine a comfortable environment for myself. When I was able to heal and return to my reality again, I began to read not out of necessity, but out of interest for my personal growth. Books were not a problem, but a solution. Perhaps if I had not become ill, it would have taken me a long time to recognize the greatness of letters and images.
Once upon a time, in a quaint coastal town, there lived a young girl named Lily. Lily had a heart full of compassion and a spirit that radiated kindness. She believed in the power of small acts of goodness and how they could create a ripple effect of positivity in the world. Lily's town was known for its picturesque beaches and vibrant community. But there was one thing that troubled Lily deeply - the pollution that was slowly suffocating the ocean. Determined to make a difference, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Armed with a pair of gloves and a determination to clean up the beaches, Lily started organizing weekly beach cleanups. She would wake up early every Saturday morning and rally her neighbors, friends, and even strangers to join her in her mission. Together, they would comb the shores, picking up litter and plastic waste, one piece at a time. Word of Lily's beach cleanups spread throughout the town, and soon, more and more people started joining her cause. What started as a small group of volunteers quickly grew into a community movement. People of all ages and backgrounds came together, united by their love for the ocean and their desire to protect it. As the beaches became cleaner, Lily realized that raising awareness was just as important as cleaning up. She started giving educational talks at schools and community events, teaching others about the impact of plastic pollution on marine life and the environment. Her passion and knowledge inspired others to make changes in their own lives, reducing their plastic consumption and adopting more sustainable habits. One day, a local artist named Mia approached Lily with an idea. She suggested creating an art installation made entirely from the plastic waste they had collected. Lily loved the idea, and together, they transformed the collected plastic into a stunning sculpture that depicted the beauty of the ocean and the importance of preserving it. The sculpture became a symbol of hope and a powerful visual reminder of the impact of human actions on the environment. It was displayed in the town square, attracting visitors from far and wide. People marveled at its beauty and were moved by the message it conveyed. News of Lily's efforts reached the ears of an environmental organization that was looking for young ambassadors to join their cause. Impressed by Lily's dedication and the impact she had made in her community, they offered her a position as a youth advocate. Lily eagerly accepted, seeing it as an opportunity to amplify her voice and create an even greater impact. As a youth advocate, Lily traveled to different towns and cities, sharing her story and inspiring others to take action. She worked with local governments, urging them to implement better waste management systems and promote eco-friendly practices. Her tireless efforts caught the attention of national media, and soon, Lily's message reached millions of people across the country. Years later, as Lily stood on a stage receiving an award for her environmental activism, she looked back at her journey with a heart full of gratitude. She realized that her small acts of goodness had sparked a movement that had transformed not only her town but also the hearts and minds of people everywhere. Lily's story serves as a reminder that every individual has the power to create change, no matter how small their actions may seem. It is through our collective efforts and the belief in our ability to make a difference that we can create a better and more sustainable world for future generations. And so, the story of Lily and her beach cleanups reminds us that the power to change the world lies within each of us. With compassion, determination, and a little bit of sand between our toes, we can create a wave of positive change that will wash away the pollution and bring back the beauty of our precious oceans.
The first time Avery asked about her mother, she was five. She didn't remember much. Just bits and pieces. But she did recall her and her dad were outside, sitting on their favorite bench – An old, worn-out piece of furniture they liked to lounge on to pass time. All starry-eyed, she asked her dad and got the standard, out-of-the-textbook answer. “She's in a better place hon,” he said, carrying her into his lap. She remembered looking into his eyes. “A better place?” She was confused. “What could be better than being with us?” He laughed and looked into the distance. “You're just going to ask her if you ever meet her.” Six years later, Avery finally understood what being in a better place meant. And to be honest, it didn't bother her as much as she expected. It had always been her dad who had been there for her. Plus, she had never met her mom before and didn't mind cutting her out of the picture. Personally, it was okay with just her and papa anyways. So, it could be imagined the shock fourteen-year-old Avery got, walking in on a phone call her dad was having. “You can't just –!” He was pacing up and down, a habit of his when he was nervous. “Thirteen years Kate! You didn't even call!” Avery moved her feet and began to climb the stairs. She knew when somebody needed their privacy. “But she's our daughter. Your child.” Avery stopped in her tracks. “Couldn't –” He paused. “Couldn't you come to see her at least once?” Silence. Then a muffled voice. And a sigh. Avery couldn't recall what happened exactly. All she remembered was the crushing feeling she had when she realized that her mum was actually alive and probably didn't want her. The shock went just as fast as it came. She made no indication that she knew, and her dad didn't deem it fit to tell her. So, life went on, until it didn't. At least for her dad. Avery was proud to say she didn't cry. Not when she found her dad on the floor. Not when he was rushed to the hospital by the neighbors. Not when she came to visit him and saw him all pale and haggard. Not when she heard the news. Not even after the funeral. She told herself over and over again that she would not cry, and she didn't. People she had never met. People she knew. Everyone told her it was going to be okay, that they understood. But Avery knew that they didn't. After the funeral, Avery had to stay with her dad's sister, Aunt Veronica. In order for that to work out, she had to move. New house, new school, new friends. It was all very strange for her. Everything seemed to be happening too fast for her to catch up. Nobody thought to ask her how she felt about it all, until she met Mrs. Ada. Mrs. Ada, the temporary stand-in for Mr. Jacobs, the English teacher, was petite, brunette-haired lady who was said to be too nice for her own good. After class one day, Mrs. Ada called her back. “Avery?” Mrs. Ada called. “Could I see you for a moment?” Avery took a seat, wondering what this was about. Sure, she wasn't a star student. But she definitely wasn't failing. And even if she was, Avery didn't think Mrs. Ada had it in her to chew her out. Mrs. Ada pushed her glasses up her nose, a comforting smile on her face. “I've noticed you've got a lot on your mind lately, and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it.” She paused, scanning Avery's face. “I know being a new student and all that can be a little too much –“ She continued, “ – but I just wanted to say that I'm here if you ever got anything troubling you, okay?” Avery muttered something along the lines of a thanks and began to stand up. “Hold on.” Mrs. Ada interrupted. She bent to bring out something from her bag. It was a black notebook with some words on the front. “I heard about your dad.” She placed the black book in her hands. The front cover read: 'There's no greater agony than keeping an untold story inside of you' – Maya Angelou. Mrs. Ada winked at her, “It's my favorite quote. For times you don't feel like talking, it might surprise you how well writing helps.” Avery rushed out of the classroom, a stuffy feeling in her chest. When she got home, she brought out the book and stared. After a minute of silence, she opened to the first page and began to write. About her dad, the mom she never met, how she felt, her new school. About everything. And for the first time, Avery let the tears fall.
Once upon a time, in a world similar to ours, a pandemic called Covid-19 spread across nations, causing economic decline, socio-political issues, and unexpected successes. In the small town of Willowbrook, nestled amidst green hills and a peaceful river, life came to a sudden stop as news of the virus reached the tightly-knit community. The lively marketplace, once filled with children's laughter and friends' conversations, now stood empty and deserted. Shop owners who once thrived now faced the harsh reality of economic decline. Some had to shut down their businesses indefinitely, unsure if they would ever reopen. As time passed, tensions rose in Willowbrook, and the town's socio-political issues became more prominent. Lines formed outside the food bank as families struggled to feed themselves. Unemployment rates skyrocketed, leaving many desperate and uncertain. The town's leaders faced the challenging task of balancing public health measures with addressing the socio-economic inequalities exposed by the pandemic. However, amidst the darkness, Willowbrook found glimpses of hope and achievements that would shape its future. Local businesses adapted and survived through innovative thinking. They embraced e-commerce platforms, offering their products and services online, providing a lifeline for the community. Neighbors came together to form support groups and community initiatives to help those in need. The town's leaders implemented financial relief programs and collaborated with neighboring towns to share resources and knowledge. Education also underwent a transformation. With schools closed, teachers and parents quickly adapted to online learning. Students explored virtual classrooms and discovered a world of knowledge at their fingertips. Although challenges arose, this new mode of education bridged gaps and ensured all students continued their studies. Willowbrook's triumph over the virus came through sacrifices and determined efforts. Healthcare workers emerged as unsung heroes, tirelessly protecting the town's residents. They faced the pandemic head-on, demonstrating compassion and resilience on the frontlines. The community rallied behind these dedicated professionals, offering words of encouragement, symbols of appreciation, and donations to support their endeavors. As the pandemic gradually diminished, leaving its lasting impact on the town's history, Willowbrook emerged even stronger and more united than before. The economic decline began to reverse as businesses reopened and new ones emerged from the ashes. The town also addressed the socio-political issues it faced, sparking conversations about fair access to healthcare, income equality, and social safety nets. Willowbrook became a shining example of resilience and camaraderie. The story of Willowbrook and its people is just one chapter in the global narrative of the Covid-19 pandemic. It serves as a reminder that even in the most challenging of times, hope can thrive, and achievements can be attained. By coming together, adapting to new circumstances, and addressing the socio-political problems highlighted by the pandemic, communities worldwide can reconstruct stronger and more inclusive societies.
The Brief Story of Eternity Arthur Stace was not a man that you would have spent your hard-earned money betting on to become a celebrity. Born to alcoholic parents in Sydney in 1885, he lived in grinding poverty. That led to stealing bread and milk and searching for scraps of food in bins. As a teenager, he became an alcoholic, was sent to jail at 15 and, in his twenties, he was a scout for his sisters' brothels. Arthur was 45 when he entered a church one day, probably to get out of the rain and hoping for a handout. The sermon concerned eternity. And, for reasons he could never explain, he immediately gave up alcohol and became obsessed with that word - eternity. Despite the fact that he was illiterate and could hardly write his own name legibly, for the next 35 years he inscribed the word ‘Eternity' on footpaths and doorsteps in and around Sydney. He always wrote in immaculate copperplate and used yellow chalk and it's estimated he did this half a million times. Along the way, he achieved world-wide fame as ‘Mr. Eternity', before his death in 1967 at the age of 83. Only one original still exists, inside the bell of the Sydney General Post Office clock tower, which was brought out of storage in the 1960's. It had been sealed up for 20 years and no-one knows how Arthur had been able to get to it. He inspired many artists (including Banksy) and writers, spawned an opera and even a film by Julien Temple, the video chronicler of the Sex Pistols and The Kinks. In 2000, the Sydney Harbour Bridge was lit up with the word "Eternity" as part of the celebrations for the beginning of the year 2000, as well as being part of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games Opening Ceremony, in celebration of a man who became eternal though the use of one word.
I'm going to tell you a story, and it does not start with "Once upon a time...", but she might wish it did. For then, she too would be blissfully fictional and not painfully human. It is about the girl like any other. She liked the smell ground after the rain and hated the ultimate heat of the summer. Loved to get lost in the known parts of the woods and enjoyed how a creek can wash off all kinds of emotions. She loved dogs. Had two. She often admired her yellow cat for the simplicity of the days... Candles were for tough days and something sweet for every. Wind could make her feel alive and soothe the anger of raw emotion and strange people. She adored smelling that celestial aroma on her wrists, but often forget to put the perfume on. Loved ladybugs and nightingales, but never actually heard the exact lullaby. Fireflies were the magic and leaves could tell a story, though often a gloomy one. Spring could make her feel the pain of melancholy and autumn would make her feel alive again. Blood would make her wonder and people made her sick. Some days all the bottles of laughter she cherished so fondly were cracked and leaked in places, in time, melted with pain and grief. And when all that heroic pain became a burden, she'd start to grieve for the person she was before... the softness of a pillow, hot showers, and chocolate... the best thing for the worn-out soul. so that's when she'd realize that grief was just wild and forgotten love. Eyes are the mirrors and grin is a battle scar. Nothing can turn back time. Except for memories. And sometimes she hated that wretched window she could easily open. But through the image, the glass was already gone. So she would think of salt as an ocean and not a drop. Wild, ultimate, and free. The smell of the ocean always brought smiles and with the scent of pines, the moment of freedom. Cold is clarity for her and heat is too much. She likes the color blue and the sky with puffy clouds. In fields of green, she's frequently looking for clover with three petals, because that brings peace to the storms in the force of life around her. December sun can make her soul warm and she would smile like a new miracle was found. Every night they met, she often asked the Moon if she can make her full too because she was torn between the wonder of thoughts and wounds of reality; that didn't make her bitter, just more human than she knew. So, you see, all people enjoy Earth and what they think magic is in their different, but just another way of understanding the real world around them. Romanticized by the poets and worshipped by the nature. And sometimes air around you shifts and the path for the day goes well off the tracks... and the whole world is against you. Those days you frequently ask yourself about the mere purpose, but there's no known response that can bring you enough wisdom or happiness. It all belongs to you. All that pain and joy. Mind is a strange struggle itself, and I believe completely in that quote I bear in my mind; it sometimes creeps in, like a phantom and I find it sipping herbal tea, oblivious to my fear... "Not all those who wander are lost." So when our girl, that this story is about, goes looking for that particular wardrobe, blue box or huge hole near the tree... or even second star in the night sky... don't you dare to stop her! You can join her of course, and bring a book! She might not be fond of people in general, but I can tell that she likes humans with a rainbow in their eyes.
Before the pandemic, I lived in New York City. On one of my mom's visits, we were sitting side by side on the subway heading downtown. I think we were talking about what to do about dinner that night. Suddenly she turns and asks me, “so, how many men have you slept with?” I'm used to questions like these coming out of the blue. Luckily, she says it in Greek. I began to argue with her, also in Greek, in a half-empty subway car, in the middle of the afternoon… about sex. Particularly how it wasn't really any of her business. “You came out of me,” which is her argument whenever I ask for privacy. Which I'm certain is a Greek thing. “Just tell me that there have been men!” She shouted. Was she asking if I was a lesbian, or if I was a virgin? “It's just sex, it's like a sausage going in and out, it's no big deal.” She was calling me a prude. “Okay, please stop talking, I have had sex,” I might have shouted in English, my mother then sighing in relief and going quiet. I would be remiss if I didn't say this is how most of our conversations go; me exasperated and mortified, she going silent or moving on to some sort of small talk. Our relationship has always been a tug and pull, mainly between my mother's traditional Greek ideas and values, and my yearning to be just like any other American Girl. My mother only come to the country in her early twenties, newly married, and not knowing one word of the language. Even so, she adapted to some American thinking and raised her three daughters with notions of getting an education, being independent, and never having to rely financially to anyone; especially a man. But some of the greek traditional ideas leaked through now and again. And then the entire world stopped. I was in New York when the pandemic came to the United States. We quickly became the epicenter of the crisis, sirens wailing at all hours, make-shift hospitals being pitched up in Central Park, and millions of people all around us completely devastated. It became too much for me. I started having panic attacks, not sleeping, and worrying about how I was going to survive. New York is expensive at the best of times, so I decided that it was best to move back home to save money. So I'm back in my childhood bedroom living with my mom and our cat Violet. I'm 30. I quickly had to set some ground rules. See, mom doesn't really know what a closed door means. She comes into my room without knocking. This would not work if I was in the office in the middle of a zoom meeting or filming a self-tape or writing. So I had to explain if the door is closed, you cannot come in. No, you cannot come pee while I'm showering. Have I mentioned my mom is bad with boundaries? She thinks I'm messy because I leave plates in the sink and she has accused me of loving Violet more than her. We've had a lot of difficult talks. Some even about sex. I told her about a guy I invited to stay over after we stayed out really late; how he offered to sleep on the floor and that nothing had to happen. “So he slept on the floor, did you give him enough blankets?' “No Mom, he slept in my bed because I wanted to have sex.” My mom shuttered. “I thought you wanted me to tell you about this stuff?” “Yes, but not all at once, Niki.” She's learned about online dating which she calls appointments for sex. Which I encourage because it's hysterical. On our family trip to Greece the summer I was 13, my aunt, my older cousin Eleni and I were sitting in a cafe. A really obnoxious sports car drove by, I think it was lime green, and my cousin said how much she liked it. Without a second thought, my aunt told my cousin, “if you marry a rich man maybe he'll have a car like that and you can ride in it.” I was shocked, so I asked my aunt, “why couldn't Eleni get a car like that for herself?” She looked at me with pity, “that's harder for girls to do.” My mother would never have said that to me. If I wanted a fancy lime green Ferrari she would say, “you'll have to work very hard.” I realized how different the two women were. My aunts do not know how to drive a car, they don't own their own property, do not have a bank account separate from their husbands, and don't work. Leaving in her early twenties made all the difference, not just in how she carried herself and lived her life, but how my mother raised her daughters. I'm brave because she was. I'm moving back to London in September and my mom is not very happy about it. She's just always going to worry about me when I'm somewhere alone with only me looking out for me. That's just the way it's always going to be, because I'm her kid. We keep having our hard talks, she keeps walking into my office without knocking. But we make sure we have an outing every Sunday, and she makes me laugh because she's the funniest person I know. And we talk. I haven't told her how many men I've slept with but I put the dishes in the dishwasher now. She's still learning about boundaries. And that's okay.
My Paradise: Now i am going to share my own life story which i underwent when i was 9 or 10 yers old. Let me give you first background general information : when i was 9 our family used to be one of the poorest one in our countryside my dad and mom had nothing to do and no job like other parents, once or twice in a month only my dad used to visit another countryside and he used to came back with a less amount of money. that would be enough for our living expanses, that said , ironically my father was addicted to alcohol , he was alcoholic and used drink even though we had no money for bread. So he spent half of his money for purchasing alcohol drinks. There was always conflict between my mom and dad . Whatever as i was young, immature boy i did not care of anything. I could not get on well both with my mom and dad , instead I had the best family member of us and the best friend of mine his name was alpha and actually he was my dog and both best friend. Today my story is wholly devoted to him, to his memory . i remember whenever i had fight with my father mostly due to his unconciousness i used to go away from home mostly to the hill of the nearest mountain to our home with alpha and rarely i used to cry, weep over everything I do remember once I was going to my frends home for some schoolworks almost by sunset and of course my friend Alpha was going together with me . As usual situation I faced some bullies maybe 3 or 4 , they were just hiding their facewith masks and startood to approach me , I was so proud that i had my brave friend with me . he just sprang up and went to the bullies with barking like the Lucifer , he tried to bite them, that said they ran away and did not come back again . Due to such events i was loving him more and more, day by day as buddy. we used to get, understand each other fully , whenever i came back from school firstly i used to hear the " Welcome home" bark from Alpha. several months maybe a year passed, as usual i came back home from school. hmm but I did not find Alpha he was not home so i went inside of the house there were my parents and brother all together sitting . my dad showed his kind and said " Come on son today your mother cooked soup for you, today is happy day becouse we are going to eat enough meat" . I was happy also I had not have breakfast that day i was starving. i went and sat down I ate couple of bowls of soup and probably 300gramms of meat. I was stuffed. I had never eaten such and I was feeling like a king becouse of lush food . i was a lad who always cares of his friend , I callected all bones which we had cleaned the meat of it and wanted to give them to Alpha. S o I went out and called " Alpha,Alpha come on where are you i have surprize for you". After my dad said " come back son he can not hear you now". I went to him, set down and said " did he go somewhere". Dad said " Yes now he is with you, sitting with you together ( I thought he was on good mood and joking around ) " i said " I am asking seriously, i thibk Alpha is hungr too so let me give these bones to him". Dad laughed a bit and said " No dog eats it's own bones son you now just ate your dog. Whatever I needed to do this becouse we all were hungry also we will not catch cold . do not get upset you will get used to live without him , he was just a dog". I could not say a word only , i was shocked . i felt burst of anger , i raised my noice ,c ryed and sprang up and striked my father several times. Of course my punches were not powerfull so my father asked to stop it and slapped me on face. the flood of tears were on my face i ran to the restroom, put my finger into my throat and vomited voluntary. i was almost unconcious... that is how our friendship ended up. Years passed my father went to Kazakhistan to earn money and fund us. every week i try to find a daily work for some money to pay for my Ielts courses. sometimes as this month I struggle to find 30 bucks and be needed to miss my courses for a month. I hope one day to be a rich person and provide all poor people to be the knowladgable . that is why i am trying to read and learn more everyday . THE END
The coronavirus pandemic is the defining global health crisis of our time. This virus has spread to every continent except Antarctica. That new virus and disease were unknown before the outbreak began in Wuhan (China) in December 2019. We all have been affected by the Covid-19. However, the impact of the pandemic and its consequences were felt differently depending on our status as individuals as and members of society. Before beginning of the pandemic situation the life was usual and was very exciting. Unfortunately, that infection caused to many health problems and even death in every single country. In order to prevent the public health, the government announced a quarantine. Our president also suggested to work at home, to study online instead going out at that disastrous time. Loads of markets, factories, universities, schools all is closed until the vaccine was created. At that times I was one the applicants who were preparing the entering tests of universities. I was studying hard to pass the test even to acquire higher band score from IELTS examination so as to be exempted from English examination. I was going to register the exam for May but after having announced the quarantine I cancelled that and all my hopes were dashed. I started to learn at home with the helps of my friends and my teacher. Really that times I was very impressed by the pandemic and I thought that is impossible for me to pass the examination. Beginning of the summer days the situation was eased and my tutor called me to suggest to learn grammar with another teacher. And I started to participate to the grammar course. But increasing the number of patients was the main reason for the government to ban to go out again. Exam dates had been postponed due to the pandemic. Finally, it was announced that my exam will be held in September and my teacher advised me not to harry, not to be nervous if I don't find the answer during the test. And all was worked for my success for exam results. After the results were announced, I found out that I was also a university student. Currently, I am junior student of the Jizzakh state pedagogical university. In conclusion, always being optimistic and active and realizing what I need and putting exact priorities and never stopping trying to reach them motivates me to go forward.
It had been a very tough time for my area since the covid 19 break out. We are living in a remote area at the end of the border, south Punjab, Pakistan. We had merely been coming out of covid 19 outbreak when suddenly the flood hit the country across all cities. The most affected region is South Punjab along with Baluchistan. Even though the situation was devastating but the local people aiding each other on their own set a heartwarming example for standing the humanity. Today, this story writing contest and taking advantage of the power of writing itself will enable people across the world to witness the bravery and kindness of the people. On 22 August 2022, I walked through shelter homes with my father and my cheeks rolled down with tears seeing people homeless and flood washing off their years of crops, homes, and families. There was chaos among people. Rescue boats were in search of people yelling for help in the midway pouring water into their mouths. I couldn't help but wrapped a box full of a few clothes, shoes, and other necessary things, especially for women and children. The local government authorities though showed helplessness and fewer resources due to huge-scale devastation, but the local NGOs jumped into the field and their motivation was at its peak. This is where my motivation summoned up to never give up on my own people. I could hear my colleagues saying why I came back to my own area despite the fact my career was at its peak in a big city. I, the first generation, graduated from university in 2019 in the aviation field, but it was my ultimate life-changing decision to go back to my community and start from zero to set a new change for those, especially those who are underprivileged. I'm even back in that remote area where most of the time the rest of the world even couldn't know what happens to you. No technology, no freedom of expression for girls, and reluctant to change their mindsets. I even heard people saying there is no power in the pen which is why I deny it today by portraying fine examples of our work which we started for the young girls. Through the power of writing and the pen, I was able to communicate with a different organization where we started one of the most popular literacy programs for young rural girls, the conversational English language program. It is a kind of program that encourages young rural girls to participate by breaking language barriers. It not only teaches them a new language skill rather enables them to participate in different character and capacity-building activities. This is where we started to provide identity to those girls who were never knowing or recognizing their own skills. It was though difficult to resume such literacy programs in post-flood effects. We are grateful to organizations like “The International Alliance of Youth writing Centers” which provide a great collaboration for such literacy programs in such underprivileged areas. And it is equally important to let the world know how true determination and will to start from a little change can bring a greater impact on someone's life. Till now two batches comprising 60+ young rural girls have been passed out which depict fine quality environments for young rural girls and their remarkable journey to showcase their real talent. Such literacy programs shall be promoted to let girls stand on their own. And no doubt, it's the power of the pen which is enabling me to convey the real message across the world. We might be distant and apart, but writing plays a greater role in bringing new collaboration and people together. I have learned so many good lessons; uplifting others brings you joy in return, little change can lead to a big impact, and living in your own community enables you to find root causes and real solutions. CELP for young rural girls is one of its kind sole program we founded in order to smartly get rural girls into something which can easily break social and cultural barriers. CELP is originally running in a very remote area in Pakistan named Choti Zareen where the girls' participation in social and outdoor literacy activities was seen as taboo. This program enables young girls to develop their capacity and character building by engaging in healthy workshops and classroom activities. This program is one of the fine literacy programs for adults in order to polish their interpersonal skills and make them realize what potential they endowed. CELP isn't just a language program rather it promotes urban-rural cohesion and removes gaps in providing young rural girls an opportunity to connect with the world by breaking language barriers. Through this literacy program, young girls witness a new change in them; peer-to-peer learning, individual self-awareness, team building, connecting with world leaders, transforming mindsets, eradicating norms, and shifting stem stereotypes. CELP is one of examples that should be seen by the world.