W semestrze letnim studenci 1. roku anglistyki AHE w Łodzi pracują nad swoimi opowiadaniami. W ramach treningu kreatywności i rozwijania umiejętności pisania w języku angielskim, wykonali ostatnio niebanalne zadanie. Z torby rozmaitości wybrali jeden przedmiot, na podstawie którego tworzyli bohatera swojej opowieści. Tworząc swoją postać, studenci skupili się m.in. na relacji bohatera z wylosowanym przedmiotem oraz wspomnieniach, jakie budzi w nim wylosowany przedmiot. Efekty pracy studentów przeszły najśmielsze oczekiwania prowadzącej kurs oraz autorki zadania, dr Oli Majchrzak.
Poniżej prezentujemy fragmenty opowiadań, które stworzyli studenci na podstawie wybranego przez siebie przedmiotu.
That evening Emma felt again that everyone around had failed her. She tried very hard not to shed a single tear. ''If she were here, everything would be different,'' she thought. She touched her neck, looking for the necklace, but she forgot she left it in the cabin. It’s such a shame. Now she felt like she had nothing to rely on.
So she ran away to the place which was the only one that brought her peace.
The closer she got, the stronger the smell of wood and moss. The sun rays were fading away with every step, and it was darker and darker. The old cabin in the woods looked increasingly neglected. The rotting wood began to crack. Even so, there was no more beautiful place in the world for Emma.
Closing the door behind her, she made sure that no one was following her. It was cold and it smelled musty inside. She took out a wooden box well hidden under the bed. She settled herself in an old leather armchair and wrapped herself in a blanket. She ran a finger along the letters carved in the box. A few drops of tears fell on the box when she read the engraved name. ''Grace.'' At the sight of the name, Emma completely fell apart. She couldn't hold her emotions anymore.
Opening the box, she looked at all the treasures. She picked up one of her favorites - the gold necklace with the pendant. The pendant hid a picture inside it. The woman in the photo was smiling and holding a little girl in her arms. It was the only valuable souvenir. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the memories. After a whole day among people who did not care about her, she only dreamed of holding the most beautiful memory of her life in her hands.
(Autor: Wiktoria Wiktorowska; przedmiot: naszyjnik)
Susan was feeling stressed again. It was her third interview this week. The panic attack started to kick in, but she knew what to do. She grabbed her pocket to feel her comforter that always calmed her down. But it was not there. The old pocket knife, which she got from her late grandfather. An old one, with a bit of rust and torn leather case. It reminded her this special relationship she had. Granddad always saved her from trouble. She was never an easy child.
And now her pacifier was gone. Not just one part of it, like the other time. She lost this little corkscrew that was attached to the inside of the case. Now the whole thing was gone, lost, just like her.
(Autor: Anna Sionek; przedmiot: scyzoryk)
As he stepped into the room, he noticed his parents' unmade bed. The view of messy sheets and rumpled pillows distracted him from the stray bullet shells he stepped on but still ignored the discomfort they caused. He took a step towards the bed and saw a pistol lying on the floor next to it. He took it and held it as if he was to hold a newborn baby. The infant in his hands was unaware of the pain it caused and would cause again. The cold steel was familiar but not to the skin of his hands. His right temple would have easily recognized it from the time he told the father not to throw his mother off the stairs.
(Autor: Kaja Pruchniewska; przedmiot: nabój)
Dana lay on her bed. A strong wind was moving the curtains. She looked at the shell on her nightstand. The memories of her mother rushed to her like a lightning strike.
***
Her long, fair hair lightly moved to the wind when she kneeled before her daughter, their hands clasped together.
"Dana, remember this moment, okay? I want you to take this shell. Whenever you look at it, remember that I'm always watching over you."
"Why, mama? Are you going somewhere?"
"No," she smiled.
***
"Liar. You knew you were sick."
Dana studied the shell's dot-coated surface. The brown speckles reminded her of her sister's eyes and the beige surface of her brother's hair.
She can't give up. Can't leave her siblings alone. She is ready to do whatever it takes to create a future for them.
(Autor: Patrycja Stańczyk; przedmiot: muszla)
That day was Charlotte's birthday. She planned to spend it alone in her flat but she felt the need to meet with her parents. She drove for two hours to finally see them after a few years. She wasn't welcome because her mother blamed her for the death of her sibling.
After she got there, there was only her father waiting for her. He let her in and showed how the house changed after she decided to run away. Everything looked different but her room was left untouched. She decided to stay there for a few days to reconnect with her parent.
After she spent a pleasant time with her dad, she went back to her room to notice a key on the bedside cabinet. The key that could open only one room. Her sister's room. Holding back her tears, she picked it up and ran to Emily's room. After that, all of her memories came back.
(Autor: Zuzanna Lipowska; przedmiot: klucz)
Gun shot! And again! And again! Where does it come from? Short pause... And another one!
Not a long time ago people were passing me by, according to their daily routine, managing their own things and businesses...
Not a long time ago I was a support for the old passers-by. They could stand for a while, prop up, and rest. Now I can't see any of them. Only men are running and hiding.
Not a long time ago I stood here, lived and protected others. Now I'm fighting to survive without any weapon.
Not a long time ago the only shot I received was a hit of children’s ball, who were playing football nearby.
Not it's different. Now I receive shots from guns. Bang! Bullets everywhere... and one of them is special... but in a very odd way... One bullet is special because it wasn't destined for me but it reached me and hurt my bark and wood...
It was the first one of many other bullets. Even now I can see its bullet shell. The first one... I can tell which one it is. I can see it next to me. That one has changed the lives of many leaving creatures, here, in Kyiv. It has changed me.
(Autor: Anna Węgrzyn; przedmiot: nabój)