R1+Group+1

Planning:

Herman, a snobby boy, is on a cruise with his family and falls off the ship and only has himself to depend on for survival. He is used to never doing chores or working because his parents do everything for him. There are conflicts in between before he is finally rescued, but he changes from a character who does not appreciate what his parents do for him to a character who finally realizes their importance. (Has flashbacks from similar situations earlier in his life when he had his parents to depend on)

Small conflicts before climax:


 * Herman gets angry at his parents for not buying him a Play Station, so he gets some fresh air by walking out on the deck.
 * He hears his father's footsteps, starts running, slips, and tumbles off into the vast darkness of the roaring sea.
 * He has to swim against the current
 * Ends up in Bangladesh where he cannot understand anyone and everyone is ignoring him, caught up in the bustle of their work.
 * He has no money (he has never needed it because his parents always pay for everything) and has to find a job.
 * In the midst of this action, he has various flashbacks from his earlier childhood.

=//**Draft: **//= [|Click Here for Audio of Short Story]

__**Out of the Opulence**__

"But, Mom! C'mon, you have to!"  I exclaimed. "Herman sweetie, we've brought you on this fantastic cruise and rented out a skyscraper for your 14th birthday when we get home." she replied calmly. "Mom, this isn't a request. It's a command. I shouldn't have to ask more than once." "Herman, I'm putting my foot down this time." "What?!?! I'm going out on the deck to get fresh air." "Herman, no sir, not this --" I slammed the door in my mother's face. I'd had enough. I couldn't believe that my mom wouldn't get me the new XBOX. I walked out on the deck of the cruise ship as the cool breeze swept past my face, and I peered down at the opaque, mysterious ocean. Silence enveloped me, until it was interrupted by footsteps. I had heard these soft, rhythmic footsteps before: tap, tap. tap, tap. tap, tap. It was my mother, approaching closer and closer. I did not want to face her adamant attitude once more. I had never really wanted to associate myself with my mother or father unless I wanted something from them. I silently ran away from her and craned my neck backward to make sure I was out of her sight. I was alarmed by a sudden, sharp jolt in my stomach, something firm and hard, that sent me tumbling into the air and disappearing into the vast, vicious waves that awaited.

It was not until I saw a blur of lit windows that I realized what was happening. I was soaring through the atmosphere. A massive adrenalin rush hit me. //This is it//, I thought. //It's all over, now.// Suddenly, I remembered the time when I was about 4 years old and playing on my new, super-bounce trampoline. My neighbor, Norbert, was there as well. Unexpectedly, he came from behind and pushed me off. Luckily, my mother was there to catch me in her arms...to save me from pain. Just as I relived this memory, a piercing prick stabbed me in the back like one million sharp needles. The chilling water rushed over me. All I could think of was that I was going down, down, down...I thrashed against the harsh currents, but I had no power over the ocean. It was an almighty force that made humans weak and destructible. The ocean gave no mercy, and I was hopeless.

When I finally awoke I was lying on a bright, sandy beach. Despite the sun's attempt to warm my body, I was still shivering due to my drenched clothes. Suddenly, I remembered what had occurred the night before. My mind was swarming with questions like //Where was I?, How did I survive?,// and //Where were my new pair of clothes?// My body was cloaked in sand, and I noticed that my shoes had somehow disappeared from my feet when I tried to stand up. I was lying on a thin strip of sand, and the beach was totally deserted. I peered around me in a totally confused state. I spotted a child, pacing along the beach with a basket full of vegetables. Suddenly excited to see an indication of civilization, I shouted, "Hello! I'm lost, and I need help, and--andd..." my speech was overpowered by the confused, what-in-the-world-are-you-talking-about expression the boy was giving me. He had dark skin, black hair, and brown eyes, which caught mine for a mere moment before he sprinted down the beach until he vanished from my vision. I spotted a sign that read: "গণপ্রজাতন্ত্রী বাংলাদেশ, //Gônoprojatontri Bangladesh."// My mind was whirring with confusion and searching for some explanation. After the initial shock, I got some of my thoughts in order. //Bangladesh//, I murmured aloud. Then, I remembered History class back in New York City, and I remembered that Bangladesh bordered India. A wave of panic washed over me. I was doomed; I had no money,no extra clothes, was in a country on the other side of the //world//, and no one cared about me, nor understood me, for that matter.

Time passed. There was no record of how much. It could have been a 5 minutes; it could have been 5 hours. When the same boy appeared again, I snapped out of my helpless, shocked phase. This time, the boy was leading another taller boy, which I inferred was his sibling. I hoisted myself up off of the ground, still in my frigid clothes. I was truly surprised that the boy had come back for me. I recalled the instance long ago when I was in the backseat of my mother's car, and we passed a homeless man sitting on the corner of the street. My mother wanted to help him by giving him some money, but I stopped her because we were going to be late to a birthday party I was going to. Besides, I saw no need to help anyone else. Now I saw a crucial difference between me and the stranger: out of the goodness of his heart, the boy came back for me when he could have gone on with his own life. I was self-centered, and realized not only this, but how dependent I was on my parents; I had never been desperate for help until now. Just as I recognized this, I saw that the boy was explaining something to the older boy as they approached, which sounded to me as slurred gibberish. After their conversation, the older boy spoke to me //extremely// slowly and with a thick accent: "Hello. Where you from?"

"New York City, America," I replied in a tired tone.

By the time I arrived at their house, I was exhausted, and the sun was dipping into the horizon. Well, it wasn't a house, really. It was more of a lopsided, cramped mud structure with a thatched roof. I was about to protest about the small bed of straw, but before I could, I toppled onto the straw and began to snore. When I pulled my eyelids open, I hobbled outside sleepily and found the sun beaming down on my face. In the distance, I noticed the two boys coming towards me, whose names I learned were Kanai and Adjhan, with tools and full baskets in their hands. At that moment, I heard a loud growl coming from my stomach. I remembered that I didn't eat at all yesterday, and I didn't know how long I was out at sea. The older boy, Kanai, started a fire outside the house for food. He began to roast something that looked like corn and some fish over the fire. //I want steak,// I thought, and I grumbled. I remembered how my parents used to make me a feast every night for dinner with whatever I pleased. These boys had to work all day and night, with no parents, just to make meals. Their parents had gotten swept away in one of the harsh annual cyclones when Kanai and Adjhan were around 7 and 8, so they learned to get along on their own. They found crops, caught fish, and yet, were still kind enough to take me in.

"Work hard make money for you go in city and make phone call, family. Today we go fishing to sell," Kanai replied in that same thick accent. "Oh, thank you, I will stay here and --" "No, you start fishing. Need to work," Kanai interrupted.

Before I could protest, I had a fishing rod in my hand, and Adjhan was leading me out to the ocean. He pushed their small boat out into the shallow water. He signaled for me to go in. Unwillingly, I stepped in the boat, followed by Adjhan. I spent the whole day working: fishing in the scorching hot weather, building fires to cook food, and hiking to the fields to collect any crops I could find. I had never done so much work before in my life; the only work I had truly done was making my bed once when the maids were sick, but that was the full extent. My shoulders were sore, I was tired, and I was thirsty. I pictured the luxury of the cruise and where I could be if I hadn't acted so harshly to my parents. I pictured my old life, and how I never had to make money on my own, especially for just a phone call. And finally, to my surprise, I pictured my parents: my mom, with her long, blond hair and blue eyes, and my dad, who was tall and had thick, dark hair. For around two weeks I worked brutally for 12 hours each day and ate 2 meals per day. I was forced to temporarily relinquish my old lifestyle. I eventually became so lethargic I could hardly bear the weight of my body, but somehow, I forced myself to keep working. I worked so hard that I felt like a had just ran a double marathon by the time I routinely toppled over onto the bed of straw I came to love. My body started to grow thinner and thinner until I was practically nothing but skin and bones.

"We are ready go to city," Kanai remarked one early morning. We packed up all of the crops, food, and supplies we had worked for over the past time I had been there. Then, we walked, and we walked. After hours of carrying so much weight, my arms felt as flimsy as a bungee cord; my legs were sore from the continuous strides as my bare feet stomped the dusty ground, but I did not complain. After all, Adjhan and Kanai had done all of this for me; I was the last person that should be complaining. Adjhan and Kanai were truly altruistic people. I finally saw a skyline, and I could feel my heart pulse. If only we could make that phone call...to hear my parents...to know that they still exist. At last, we entered the city, bustling with people -- children, adults, and teenagers. We set up a small blanket and set out our fish and vegetables for display. The city was so intimidating. I could not understand what anyone was speaking of, and all the people seemed so preoccupied with their own life, which intimidated me, for a reason I could not pinpoint. Throughout the day, I found my eyes drifting over to the line of pay phones, which were very similar to those in America. As I looked at these phones, I could almost hear my mom's relieved voice through the phone line. Even though I disrespected her, her love for me was irrevocable, and I soon came to venerate her. After a day of selling, we earned just enough money to make a 2 minute phone call. We slipped the coins into the machine, and I started to dial. As the phone rang, I prayed that my mother would answer. At the last ring, she picked it up.

"Hello?" "Mom, it's me." "Herman, sweetie! Where are you? We've been searching for you? Why didn't you call us earlier?" "Mom, don't worry. I'm in Bangladesh, and I'm so sor--"

I was cut off by a beep. I then looked around me and was alarmed by a pitch black silence that reminded me of my darkest nightmares. The eerie atmosphere was practically tangible as it cradled the city around me, and the continuous buzz of the people came to an abrupt stop. I realized that the power had gone out, interrupting the phone call I had brutally worked for. I struggled to squelch my proliferating tears, but it was no use. As they filled my eyes, I realized, in retrospect, that I had always loved my parents, but I had never really admitted it. Kanai, Adjhan, and I all stared at the phone in despair. My only hope of going back home was crushed by the unfortunate power outage in this Bengali city. I put the phone back on the hook, and collapsed on the blankets. I whirled into dreamland. As I awoke, boisterous chaos filled the air just the same as it had yesterday. Maybe, just maybe, since I had at least notified my mother of where I was, she would be able to find me.

For weeks we worked by delivering carts of food to people, working for a man Kanai and Adjhan had negotiated with. We needed to earn enough money to make another phone call. The sun was always beating down on my skin, and it began to turn tan. Eventually, I began to lose hope of ever being reunited with my family. One evening, as I walked up to a stand selling warm bread, my body froze as a I heard familiar, soft footsteps coming from behind: tap, tap. tap, tap. tap, tap. I turned around, and my mother was smiling at me. I ran into her arms and felt a strange happiness that I didn't think I had ever felt in my life before that moment.

As I entered the NYC Airport terminal, sleepy from jet lag, I pulled the small brown pouch that Kanai and Adjhan had given me out of my pocket. Inside of it were two small photographs of both of them, and a rare purple rock, native to Bangladesh. I thought of all the days I had spent living with them and how life changing it was. When my mom and I arrived at our apartment, I was taken aback by the familiarity of it: the furniture, the big TV, the smell, and the cream-colored walls. There was one thing that felt different about my arrival, though; I was finally satisfied. I did not walk in begging my parents for some inane and needless thing that I wanted. I was content with the presence of my family and the fact that I was home again.