r/HSCoaching • u/Rude-Temperature-927 • 16h ago
I have trials coming up and I’m really nervous about Mod C and my imaginative text. I’ve already completed writing it but I’m not fully satisfied also I’m not sure if I can score high marks with my text ,can someone please read over it and let me know what I should do ??
MODULE C - IMAGINATIVE TEXT
To be a Woman
The clear capsule struggles to descend her throat, the freezing water barely helps. The bitter taste remains so instead she muses quietly at the peace invoked by stillness of the afternoon. Only momentarily interrupted by the soft click of the minute hand reaching the hour hand signalling, half past eight. Breaking out of her trance, she reluctantly begins her daily cleaning ritual. The clean cloth absorbs the accumulating dust near the wooden window and then the antique mirror that was haphazardly propped against the wall, a quick rinse left the mirror clean again, save for the mysterious dark stain at the bottom that she had never quite able to vanish regardless of the amount of disinfectant she used or the amount of rigorous scrubbing that had left her back aching for days, she sighed as she gazed into the mirror.
The woman in the mirror stared back at her, the dark circles under her eyes were more apparent in the harsh light and her thin lips were set in a hard edge. The woman slowly blinked and her eyes were drawn like a moth to a flame to the woman who now stood in the mirror. Her gaze landed on her hazel eyes ; they seemed to glimmer in the way, a rebellious teen’s spirit triumphs at the clear frustration adults seem to have in their presence, which only enhanced the youthful glow her skin exhibited. Tendrils of brown hair escaped the thin hair net over her head oddly complementing the blue stethoscope that hung around her neck. Her eyes flickered wildly trying to understand the absurd tricks her mind must’ve been playing. Although to her dismay, the woman in the mirror looked mildly unsuprised in her maroon sweater and skinny jeans looked out of place with the state of the several storybooks all holding onto a thin thread as she carefully clutched them close to her chest. She blinked again and the edge of her lips curled upwards and she crossed her arms displaying the fitted suit with an astonishing lack of wrinkles. Before she could so much as dwell on the suitcase that may have been dislocating the woman’s shoulder with its weight seemingly filled to the brim with paperwork. However she noticed the bitter taste creeping back in, as the questions clung to the recesses of her conscience. Was it because it was her choice? When was the last time she had a choice ? The thought rose unbidden and took root in her mind without her permission but the worst part was the deafening silence in her mind, in absence of an answer.
As if sensing her thoughts, the woman glanced at her with an expression she knew like the back of her hand and one she often caught her own features shifting into, eyes that held the weight of the world and lips slightly downward ; the expression of pity . The weight of scrutiny reached out clawing its way up from her dainty ankles to her knees which shook under the weight of holding her up.Until they reached the stain on her apron they seemed to stop upon the jingle of keys heard through the oak door at the entrance. ‘ I’m home, is dinner ready yet ? ’. She silently prayed her voice didn't waver as it carried out to the threshold of the door where he impatiently stood waiting for a response “ dinner isn’t ready yet “ to which he responded “ don’t bother , it’s too late to eat dinner anyways “ she had assumed as much and silently nodded her head. She instinctively smoothened over the constantly wrinkled state of her worn-out apron. She reluctantly looked back at herself in the mirror and this time the woman just warmly smiled. There was still the noticeable appearance of dark circles around
her eyes and her gray hairs were still plastered near her sweaty forehead. However in her eyes there was a defiant fire, a woman who regularly lost battles yet never lost sight of the war ahead and she thought of all the women before her who had seemingly been in the same position or those who refused to conform to societal expectations placed upon them and fought back and for a minute she desperately wished she was one of them and the thought brought back a fresh wave of bitterness. Oh how she wished she were anywhere but here and whilst it wasn’t so bad. A roof over her head and essentials provided , a patient husband and her sweet kids. Her heart ached with all she could’ve been .
Motherhood brought a strength within her that rivalled with her flaws. However as empowering as it was. It had never been her choice had it ? she had done as they asked to, do well in school, take care of her husband and her kids, she had done everything they had asked of her so why did it feel like this ? It was then in the dimming light of the evening that her realisation stepped out of the shadows. She had forgotten what it felt like to be a woman ,she was someone's daughter, sister and mother but she was also capable of innovation and bright ideas, she also had dreams beyond the vicinity of her home ? She was content but she knew she could be so much more. This time when the bitterness arose in her throat, she suppressed it down until it reached her stomach and it vanished. She was not a fool who would comply with their commands, She would not wither at their demeaning words nor would she cower at their authority. She was a woman and that was not something they could take away from her. As the realisation settled in , it reached out and straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin higher. She would not settle for less.
