Creative writing rubric middle school

A muffled moan of grief arose in her throat, and her head throbbed with pain. But she kept silent, because she ad learnt to do so now. The way she had learnt to adjust to her new surroundings in this alien, hostile country, and had learnt to accept the countless jeers and merciless teasing and bullying from people around her. She was an Asian- and that was all that mattered. With a heavy heart, Masses walked out of the stall in the secluded corner of the girl’s bathroom on the third floor of the school.

Over the past three months, this had become her refuge, a sanctuary where she kept herself and her emotions from falling apart from the rest of the world. Whenever the owing got worse and the matters rose to a head, Masses was off, like the wind, to her retreat where she alienated her soul from the rest of the world. She quietly walked to one of the sinks and stood in front of the mirror and stared at her heartbroken condition. Her eyes were swelled and red from constant crying. Her brown skin glistened and showed signs of wetness in the glaring lights.

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Just then the door opened and in walked two of the school’s most admired girl’s, who were equally proud and callous. They were oblivious to the existence of another girl in the bathroom, and with impudence tipping in their malicious grins, began black talking about Asian girls and what nuisance they were. They specifically stared at Masses, who by then had turned a bright shade of crimson. Humiliation dawned her. Masses wished the earth would split open and swallow her in its midst.

By now, Masses had well accustomed to such offensive behavior and had learnt to cope with situations when she was ignored; in fact taken as an entire separate entity, even in her presence. Masses had finally built up the courage to walk past those impertinent girls when the door opened and yet gain a mass of gossiping girls entered the bathroom. All of them, like the two before, had refused to acknowledge Nausea’s existence, when one of them spotted the timid figure of a girl, meekly huddled and crouched at the rear end of the bathroom, trying her utmost to pass unnoticed.

But the poor girl, had unusual, run out Of luck. All conversation in the bathroom halted. Girls exchanged cheeky grins and nudged each other, pointing at the docile figure in their midst. The hateful horde had found its prey: the ‘brown and piteous’ Masses to pick on, the school’s favorite Guiana pig. If insults are to be whipped, choose Masses. If a student is to be made the object of practical jokes, then there is always the brown Asian.

If someone is to be made the target of a basketball, who better to hit than meek, docile Masses? It was spiteful, that’s what it was. But also something, which the school loved doing, just like that in the bathroom… … The mean glare of the sun shone on Nausea’s dark skin, making it darker than it already was. Masses hated it: her skin, her school, this hostile country and the rest of the world. She wished she were back in her own country-the milliamp terrain and the brown soil, like the color of her skin.

She wanted to go back to where her roots belonged- to where she belonged. Not in a foreign land and amongst natives who had no places in their hearts for people like her. A huge lump appeared in her throat, which hurt unbearably. She would always remain the ‘brown and piteous’ Masses-the target to everyone’s bullying. An unbearTABLE pain of grief ached in her heart. There was no answer to the turbulent emotion welling in Nausea’s chest. It was true: she had no one and nothing.

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