practice conflict piece

English October test tomorrow, revision's completely unfinished. I've only covered 1 theme across 4 mindmaps in the last two nights for 1984, and done one practice piece for the context. I still have to re-read "The Crucible" for more quotes to start my piece better tomorrow; I took some lines from my previous stories to start this imaginative piece off:

Conflict brings out unexpected qualities in people.

17th July, 2010
My body ached, pleading for recovery from last night, and yet that did not even portray the despair in my heart. The pillow was drenched with grief; the bed sheets ruffled with agony, the setting of the light-deprived apartment had said it all. Why did I go? Why did I leave? And as these thoughts continued to dwindle in my depressed mind, I began to wonder if I was sane at all. “What happened to the American dream?” was asked on the news repeatedly as the end began. Humanity’s situation was dire; people wanted to better and genetic technologies improved to improve us humans. Discrimination soon rose as some governments wanted hygiene within races, and as people born “naturally” had nowhere to lead in life. Then we came, to help humanity pull through. We came, and now through the Pure Act we were told to be not needed. Imagine telling a fighting man that war was over, that there was to be no more fighting. I do what I do because I am compelled to do so, unlike the others who have gone. They were soft. Despite advancing in the field of eugenics, the people have abused it and new identities can be bought. Like heathen, they fight and squabble between themselves; quarrels over land could be “solved” as one could assume another person’s identity and kill someone else, then alter one’s appearances again. Now we, as the public, cannot depend on the “culprit” to accuse himself, and so in all cases the “witness” is always correct, their names being holy. Evidence is never found because by the time evidence is found and can be presented, the “witness” is gone with a new identity. With regards to the “victims”, there is no place for heroes since disputes over murders and other crimes are now “solved”. As a businessman, trust and one’s name is extremely important. That is why I am compelled to do good, a person is either good or bad; there is no road between. The other “heroes” have quit, but I, Joses by day, Boomaker by night, will be the high judge of this world that we live in, for God is dead in today’s world.

19th July, 2010
Today, a woman by the name of Elizabeth died; his blood was found splattered inside his house, yet no body is found. As always, a witness surfaced-Putnam, who supposedly saw his neighbour Parris bury a suspicious bag in his backyard. How typical. Tonight, we will judge Putnam. There is no point in making him confess; he may just acquire a new identity and he will then be anonymous. Tonight, I will be a sinner for the greater good of justice.

Having found Putnam’s residential area, I obtained unwanted entrance into his house. There is a dog outside, I hear its growls. There are many meat cleavers in Putnam’s house, unusual for a man of forty. No blood, so no evidence found yet. Stepping out of the kitchen into the next room, I see the dog. It is an absolute beast, with an oddly large bone in its mouth. My blood turns cold, cold enough to freeze beer. The bone, is the femur of the human body. It is easily distinguished by its large length and its ball-joint connector for our knees. The dog had it in its mouth. I took one of Putnam’s meat cleavers, and found some meat in his kitchen. Holding one [meat cleaver and meat] in each hand, I went into the dog’s territory. His ears pricked up. I offered it the meat. It came, and the meat cleaver went down, the impact of metal hitting its skull running up my right arm. This Putnam, I will crush him utterly when he shows his face. But my work is done tonight; I know Putnam is guilty. Justice will prevail one day, and I will give him a chance, for his sin is deep. Yet somehow I know he will disappear, only to reappear when I find him. In this world, whenever one does something, someone down there knows. Always.

22nd July, 2010
Putnam is gone as expected. Nonetheless, someone knows and I have acquired his new address, with his new name “Thomas”. Tonight, I will go to his place. He will go to hell tonight.

26th July, 2010
This is madness. I was framed all along, and now I am in a jail cell. With today’s technologies, my diary has been hidden as a microchip in my mouth. These heathen, they have condemned me to death, guilty of the murder of countless murderers, rapists-sinners. Private vengeance is no more; by my oath to Heaven, a fire burns. It is burning, I can see the boots of Lucifer and his filthy face. God damns my kind, and I will burn, burn with wheels of fire inside. The world is dying of rabies, and this is the best I can do-wipe flickering flecks of spit off its lips? God is dead, and I will take my sins with me, down into my pit. I will not “confess”, for what I did was upright and good. I will do what I do, and let none be my judge. There be no higher judge under Heaven than God, and I will go like a saint. Boomaker will die, doing what is good to the end.



After Boomaker’s death, crime still roamed the streets. The world realized that it needed heroes, and the Pure Act was overturned. At least, his death counted for something, like a saint.