Picture 2: An old lady
Picture 3: A bank
A hive of activities was taking place at the OCBC bank. All the counters were busy and the queue was long like a python. “Grandma, how long do we have to wait?” Martin grumbled, folding his arms, feeling vexed about the slow-moving line.
“Be patient, Tin,” Grandma spoke softly, ruffling his spiky hair.
“I am hungry, Grandma! At this rate, I will die of hunger.” Martin pulled a long face, scanning the mass of black heads that was ahead of them.
Feeling bored, Martin surveyed the busy bank and caught sight of a dubious-looking man. He was not in the queue. Strange! Why? Feeling as curious as a kitten, Martin gave him a once-over. His cheeks were sallow and pockmarked. His greasy locks straggled from his faded army cap. His hollow sunken eyes seemed to have no life at all for he looked almost like a zombie. Since it was finally Grandma’s turn, he moved to the counter with her instead.
Soon, Grandma had finished her transaction and withdrew a thick wad of hundred-dollar notes. Putting the money into a brown envelope, the old lady swiftly placed it in her Louis Vuitton handbag. However, she carelessly left her bag unzipped and the envelope was peeping out from its opening.
Unknown to the duo, the shifty-looking character had taken notice of them. Like a hawk closing in on its prey, the crook tailed them. Once out of the bank, in a deft move, he secretly fished out the envelope from the handbag.
Fortunately, Martin caught sight of his deplorable move and let out a strident cry which could shatter any glass. “Pickpocket! Catch him! The one with the army cap!” he yelled. There was a sense of imperative in his tone and panic infused the air.
A few kind-hearted passers-by plunged into action and gave chase together with Martin. No one wanted the pickpocket to go scot-free but that lawbreaker bolted like a mad cheetah on steroids. He was probably faster than Usain Bolt. His indefatigable stamina was truly a class of its own. Martin and the passers-by could hardly keep pace with him. Everyone was soaked with sweat and they were like fish out of water, gasping for air but no one wanted to give up. However, the distance between them was getting wider and wider.
Just then, an unmistakable panting sound emanated from behind. A figure zoomed past everyone else and was fast gaining on the scoundrel. “Was it a figment of imagination?” Martin thought to himself. It was an old lady with greyish-white hair and of a lithe built. How could she run so fast? Her back view looked very familiar. Where had he seen her before? As he stared harder, realization hit him like a lightning bolt! Oh my goodness! Grandmother?! Was that her? So fast? Unbelievable!
Meanwhile, Grandma continued whizzing toward him. Rivulets of perspiration streaked down her wrinkled forehead as she huffed and puffed and bulldozed forward. She finally caught up with the thief and wrestled him to the ground. “How dare you steal from a granny like me, you rascal?” Martin’s grandmother hollered in disgust. Her purplish veins on her neck pulsated in tune with her voice.
The man gave a violent struggle but Grandma had everything under control. She assailed his body and subdued him quickly with a few easy karate moves. Martin could actually hear the sickening ‘crack’ sound as the man let out his worst cry of intense pain. He must have broken one of his bones. Ignoring his yells, Grandma hooked her left hand over his bony neck and twisted his right hand behind his back, rendering him powerless. Everyone was in shock. Their eyes popped like ping pong balls!
Martin’s grandma finally had her envelope back. Soon, the police came to arrest the man and took down statements from the eyewitnesses. It was only then that Martin found out from the policemen on duty that Grandma used to be a retired high-ranking police officer. She was known to be any crook’s worst nightmare. It was just the pickpocket’s bad luck to prey on a formidable granny like her. Serve him right!
As for Martin, that experience definitely added a few notches of respect for his grandmother. Maybe, just maybe, he could grow up to be a police officer just like her.
The story is adapted from Casco Step By Step English Creative Writing for Champions by Jalynn Yokairei
A hive of activities was taking place at the OCBC bank. All the counters were busy and the queue was long like a python. “Grandma, how long do we have to wait?” Martin grumbled, folding his arms, feeling vexed about the slow-moving line.
“Be patient, Tin,” Grandma spoke softly, ruffling his spiky hair.
“I am hungry, Grandma! At this rate, I will die of hunger.” Martin pulled a long face, scanning the mass of black heads that was ahead of them.
Feeling bored, Martin surveyed the busy bank and caught sight of a dubious-looking man. He was not in the queue. Strange! Why? Feeling as curious as a kitten, Martin gave him a once-over. His cheeks were sallow and pockmarked. His greasy locks straggled from his faded army cap. His hollow sunken eyes seemed to have no life at all for he looked almost like a zombie. Since it was finally Grandma’s turn, he moved to the counter with her instead.
Soon, Grandma had finished her transaction and withdrew a thick wad of hundred-dollar notes. Putting the money into a brown envelope, the old lady swiftly placed it in her Louis Vuitton handbag. However, she carelessly left her bag unzipped and the envelope was peeping out from its opening.
Unknown to the duo, the shifty-looking character had taken notice of them. Like a hawk closing in on its prey, the crook tailed them. Once out of the bank, in a deft move, he secretly fished out the envelope from the handbag.
Fortunately, Martin caught sight of his deplorable move and let out a strident cry which could shatter any glass. “Pickpocket! Catch him! The one with the army cap!” he yelled. There was a sense of imperative in his tone and panic infused the air.
A few kind-hearted passers-by plunged into action and gave chase together with Martin. No one wanted the pickpocket to go scot-free but that lawbreaker bolted like a mad cheetah on steroids. He was probably faster than Usain Bolt. His indefatigable stamina was truly a class of its own. Martin and the passers-by could hardly keep pace with him. Everyone was soaked with sweat and they were like fish out of water, gasping for air but no one wanted to give up. However, the distance between them was getting wider and wider.
Just then, an unmistakable panting sound emanated from behind. A figure zoomed past everyone else and was fast gaining on the scoundrel. “Was it a figment of imagination?” Martin thought to himself. It was an old lady with greyish-white hair and of a lithe built. How could she run so fast? Her back view looked very familiar. Where had he seen her before? As he stared harder, realization hit him like a lightning bolt! Oh my goodness! Grandmother?! Was that her? So fast? Unbelievable!
Meanwhile, Grandma continued whizzing toward him. Rivulets of perspiration streaked down her wrinkled forehead as she huffed and puffed and bulldozed forward. She finally caught up with the thief and wrestled him to the ground. “How dare you steal from a granny like me, you rascal?” Martin’s grandmother hollered in disgust. Her purplish veins on her neck pulsated in tune with her voice.
The man gave a violent struggle but Grandma had everything under control. She assailed his body and subdued him quickly with a few easy karate moves. Martin could actually hear the sickening ‘crack’ sound as the man let out his worst cry of intense pain. He must have broken one of his bones. Ignoring his yells, Grandma hooked her left hand over his bony neck and twisted his right hand behind his back, rendering him powerless. Everyone was in shock. Their eyes popped like ping pong balls!
Martin’s grandma finally had her envelope back. Soon, the police came to arrest the man and took down statements from the eyewitnesses. It was only then that Martin found out from the policemen on duty that Grandma used to be a retired high-ranking police officer. She was known to be any crook’s worst nightmare. It was just the pickpocket’s bad luck to prey on a formidable granny like her. Serve him right!
As for Martin, that experience definitely added a few notches of respect for his grandmother. Maybe, just maybe, he could grow up to be a police officer just like her.
The story is adapted from Casco Step By Step English Creative Writing for Champions by Jalynn Yokairei
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