My Cold 🧊 Task

Writing is amazing. The ability to construct an entire world with worlds is mind-blowing. In class, we were to write a narrative on anything. I decided to base my story on Addie Katz, the daughter of the prime minister in my story.  She has a bit of social anxiety but has been tasked with doing a welcome speech for the prime minister. Does she do it or does she chicken out? Read to find out.

The teacher was cut off by the bell, signalling assembly, a special assembly with an esteemed guest.

Everyone got up and started hurrying to the hall, except for me. I took my time packing my stuff and when

I had finished, and I finally got up to leave. “Addie, could you stay back for a minute,” Miss Green asked

kindly. I nodded my head and made my way to her polished oak desk. “I need one of my students to do a

speech in the assembly.” I nodded in understanding. “Did you want me to choose someone,” I asked meekly.

“No thank you, Addie,” she responded. “But, I do need you to do it. You will be doing a speech for our

school during assembly.”

No. This can’t be happening. The words echoed in my mind, replaying like a broken record. “You will

be doing a speech for our school during assembly.” But I couldn’t do it. This was supposed to be an honour

considering who was visiting. The prime minister. She was doing a trip around America, visiting the schools

I supposed. I nodded my head, agreeing even though everything in my being was yelling at me not to. This

speech was going to be a nightmare! I never speak up or raise my voice. Ever. Imagine, me, Addie Katz,

doing a welcome speech for the person who runs our country. Just the thought of it is terrifying! Terrifying

enough to want to back out, to run for the hills. The mere idea of quitting is impossible though because the

prime minister is my mother.

I walked to the hall anxiously anticipating what I could do. Maybe I could not go; ditch the entire thing.

Then I think of the scolding I would get when I come home. The hall was getting closer as I could hear the

bustling of students, eagerly waiting for the arrival of prime minister Josephine Katz. Some were excitedly

counting down the seconds til mother arrived; others, me and probably only me, were counting down the

minutes till mother would leave. As I arrived at the hall, I crossed through the doorway and saw everyone,

save for Mrs Katz, sitting in neat rows of chairs. Hundreds of kids, hundreds of eyes, and they would all be

on me. 

A sleek, black limo approached the school gates. The prime minister was here. Stepping out onto the

pavement, Mrs Katz was looking superior in a navy blue suit. Sunglasses shading her eyes, eyes that I

inherited, Mrs Katz strutted up to the hall, two bulky bodyguards flanking her. She walked with pride and

confidence, making even that look regal. Her presence in the hall silenced the chattering students and I

started to make my way to the stage.

Each step made my heart pound, pounding louder than drums. Every eye was on me, monitoring my every

move. I could feel her gaze burning at the back of my head, looking for any wrong moves. Stepping up on

the stage, I walked to the podium. Everyone in this hall was watching me. Hundreds of eyes, but only one

pair mattered. Mother’s. I knew she was watching, seeing if I would taint the family name. But I had to prove

her wrong. Had to show her she was able to be proud of me. So, with my chin held high, I pushed down my

fear and welcomed her to our school. After an hour of speeches and groveling from the teachers to Mrs Katz,

I wished her well on the rest of her excursion around America. Watching mother walk out of the hall, I

caught her eye. She smiled and nodded at me, silently saying “Well done. You’ve made me proud.” I smiled back, feeling unusually accomplished.

So, with this being a cold task, I have a lot to work on. One, shortening my word count and two, more figurative language. Making this was fun, but improving it would be even better.