Hey, so I have this essay for a school competition, but I have no idea what the title should be. Any ideas? Here's the essay (BTW, I changed the names): 

 

 

 

     I remember my sixth summer in Thailand clearly. Or, to be more specific, I remember the day when I had wandered a little bit from my parents, who were looking at the corner shops on the street. Throngs of people bustled around on the road, and the hot, humid air weighing down heavily on us. Sweat rolled down cheeks, splattering onto burning pavement only to evaporate into the air. A little way off from the corner shop was where I first dropped a coin into a dirty man’s cup, clinking in with the other unclean coins. He was ragged and filthy, forcing a smile onto his face, weathered with tired lines and grime.

            “Mister, why are you out here in the street?” I had asked him, my six-year- old self still innocent to the harsh ways of the world. He had smiled thinly in response, lips parting to reveal a set of yellow, crooked teeth.

            “Sweetie, I don’t have a home,” he said gently, which, to this day, still boggles me.  How kind he was, considering his dire condition. I tilted my head confusedly, bewildered by his strange answer; everyone had houses.

            “But everyone has a house.” I said uncertainly, feeling a tad bit stupid as he chuckled bitterly.

            “Not me, missy,” he said. “That’s why I’m out here.” I opened my mouth to ask another question, only to be stopped by my worried parents, who pulled me away from the grungy man sitting on the side of the street. They chastised me, telling me that I was not to wander off and talk to strangers. I nodded, only half-listening, as we walked away from the man. My parents linked our hands together and led me and my sister to the car to go back home.

Before I left, I cast a secret glance to the mystery man without a house. He stared back at me, beamed brightly, and gave a short wave. A small smile crossed my lips when I saw his contented face as he gave another wave to me before going back to shaking his cup at passing strangers.

I turned back around to face the road in front of me, but not before waving back.

---

I was back there the next month.

My uncle Calvin, who hailed from Canada, had come for a visit with his two daughters who my sister, Gem, and I were very close with. My parents had taken the two families out for some tourist shopping, and we found ourselves on the same street as before. I slipped away recklessly, ignoring my parent’s warning from last time. A few yards away from my parents was the same beggar.

“Hi mister,” I called, standing in front of him. He looked up and gave me his crooked grin.

“Why hello,” he replied, eyes crinkling into crescents. “I remember you.” He shook his cup hopefully with a glint in his eyes. “Care to help again?”

I shook my head sadly, “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything.” He shrugged, placing his cup back onto the hot pavement. The few coins that lay in the cup looked lonely, glittering in the sunlight.

“That’s alright.” He said, stretching his stiff muscles. “Now, why are you here?” I bit my lip, unsure of how to phrase my question. The sun beat down on my neck, and I wiped sweat away from my eyes impatiently, gaze trained on the homeless man.

“I don’t understand why people run away from you,” I had mumbled uncertainly, eyes flicking to the people who had hurriedly rushed past him without sparing him a glance. He laughed outright at my bluntness, slapping a sun-kissed, withered hand on his thigh.

“They think I’m crazy,” he had told me, to which I had replied by taken a good couple steps back. “I won’t hurt you.” He said, holding his hands up. I glanced at my parents who were only a few yards away.

“Are you...?” I whispered, the humid air making sweat slide down my slick skin. His smile dimmed, eyes turning guarded and weary. His fingers played with the edge of his dirty cup, thinking about his answer.

“I am perfectly sane.” He murmured, making me lean in closer to hear him properly. “It’s this world that’s crazy.” I stared at him, his strange words echoing in my head. As I opened my mouth to reply, my mother suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tugged on my hand lightly, signaling for me to go.

“Bye, mister,” I said softly. He nodded and we were soon swallowed up by the crowd as I got farther away from him, the busy tourists and locals bustling on the street. I chewed on my lip and turned away from the sad sight of the man without a home, curled up on the side of the street with hands clutching a dirty old cup.

I never saw him again.  But as time wore on, I pushed the image of the luckless old man by the side of the road to the back of my head where the nightmares pranced and darkness prevailed.

---

The years whizzed by quickly. Before I realized, it was my tenth year in Thailand. Although I had gotten a little bit shyer towards strangers, I was still the curious kid on the side of the road by that little corner shop. I only truly showed my crazy, wild side to my family and close friends; the others knew me as a bookworm, as I was often absorbed in reading.  By this time, I had long forgotten the man on the side of the road, his food in bins and house under bridges. But one day after school, everything had changed.

I was curled up on the cold, white tile floor in a little corner of the library, head ducked down and eyes intently scanning the pages in front of me. The others were either using the library computers or were gossiping at the tables. Tucking my legs inside my skirt for warmth, I was quite happy inside my little world. The wailing of sirens tore me out of my reverie. I had scrambled up – my uniform getting in the way a little – and peered out of the window, my short ten-year-old self tiptoeing to peek out of the window.

Bright red and blue lights flashed, accompanied by the screeching siren that sent chills down my spine. My eyes followed the car as it turned around the curb and disappeared without a trace. I frowned and went back to my book, ignoring this strange event.

Promptly at six o’clock, I went outside to wait for my mother and father to pick me up. We drove back home, me screeching to the songs on the radio while my mother tried not to slam her head into the steering wheel out of frustration.

After dinner, I began my homework diligently, working out problems and writing short sentences with the newly learned vocabulary. About a half-hour later, I heard my mother’s horrified gasp and the call of my father’s name. My father, a stern-looking man with glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose came downstairs, making his way towards the TV room.

My sister and I glanced at each other uneasily as we also made our way to the room, peering around the corner to look at the flashing screen of the television. My mother stood staring at the reporter talking monotonously, bored and emotionless as she relayed the information received.

The tiny picture in the corner depicted a man in a white jacket with his arms belted across his chest being hauled into a car. Judging by his screeches, he wasn’t cooperating. Gem and I gasped as the horrifying scene as the belted man bit down on one of the guard’s arms, catching him off guard as his teeth sank into the sleeve.

They wrestled on TV for a while before my mother switched the TV off, the silence blanketing the room. “Go do your homework, girls,” my father said sternly with a soft pat on the backs, ushering us out of the room. My sister and I nodded hesitantly, still in shock with the terrifying scene we had just witnessed.

“Mom, what’s the white belt thing?” my sister asked, eyes wide as she sat down by her books again. Pressing her lips in a thin line, my mother walked away to my dad without answering, their lips moving rapidly as soft, buzzing words made their way to our ears, jumbled up and incoherent.

“Let’s go look it up,” I hissed to my sister, and together we crept away from our parents who were still deep in their discussion. When we went upstairs, our dinosaur of a computer refused to work, the huge electronic unwilling to listen to our commands.

“It’s not working! Why isn’t it working?”

“It’s because you should to be doing homework,” my father’s stern voice filtered through our incessant clacking on the keyboard. We hung our heads shamefully, having been caught in the act. He sighed, raking a hand through his thinning hair.

“What are you looking for?” he asked us tiredly, eyes drooping with weariness. My sister and I turned to each other, trying to phrase our question correctly.

“The white cloth on the guy downstairs,” my sister supplied, curiosity written across her innocent features. “He was all tied up.” She demonstrated, crossing her arms across her chest and waddling across the wooden floor. My father shook his head and smiled, albeit thinly.

“It’s a straitjacket.” He replied calmly, pushing his glasses back up his nose. We both wrinkled our noses in confusion.

“A what?”

“It’s a jacket that ties your arms to your body so you can’t move.” My eyes grew wide.

“That sounds horrible!” I cried out. My sister nodded agitatedly in agreement, our short, jet black hair bouncing on our heads frantically. My father shrugged, pushing us out of the room and gesturing for us to go to bed. I flopped down onto the mattress on the floor, the sheets cold from the air conditioner. My sister crawled onto the high bed adjacent to my mattress on the floor, harrumphing as she snuggled under the covers. As we lay in bed, I stared at my father’s solemn face, who had just snuck under the covers with me.

“Daddy?” I whispered softly, feeling that the dark made it necessary to whisper. My father turned to me patiently as my mom clambered into bed with my sister, pulling the covers up to cuddle. I chewed on my lip hesitantly.

“Why was he in that straitjacket, daddy?” My father ruffled my short hair.

“He’s dangerous, Manganime.”

“Says who?” Gem piped up; apparently, she had been listening to our conversation. My dad sighed as my mother groaned, rolling over to crack an eye open tiredly. My dad shrugged to her sleepy glare, turning his attention back to us.

“He doesn’t fit in our society.” I sat up, outraged, Gem following suit with a shocked gasp.

“So if we’re different, we’ll be tied up?”  My father tried to backtrack, but we were too angry to listen properly. In the end, he flopped down onto the bed and closed his eyes, grumbling about how he needed sleep. Soon, one by one, all of them fell asleep.

Except for me.

My head whirled with thoughts, scared that I was going to be different and how I was going to be ostracized, tied up, and dragged around like an animal. Suddenly, an old, forgotten memory resurfaced in my buzzing mind.

“I am perfectly sane. It’s this world that’s crazy.”

“Were you like that because you were different too?” I whispered in the dark, my father’s snores being the only sound in the peaceful room. Soon I was falling into darkness, the lure of the blissful black swallowing my jumbled thoughts and sending me into oblivion.

 

+End+ 

 

Thank you for your help! XD