A Tale of Understanding and Submission

He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up. The stairwell seemed dark and endless, stretching far into the unimaginable beyond.

He was undaunted, for he was smart. And using his intellect, he proceeded to zero in upon a plan of action to counter this darkness.

He switched on the light.

Feeling somewhat relieved, he looked up again. But this time he received a jarring shock. At the top of the stairs, casting a shadow over the twenty-two steps, stood a dominating woman.

His teacher.

And then it all came back to him. How, four months ago, his teacher had announced a story-writing assignment. How he had prolonged the deadline with all kinds of excuses, ranging from blaming his fictitious dog to having it burned to a crisp by a sudden convenient flash of lightning.

She had bought his excuses and gave him an additional week’s time, every time.

But now she was here, at his house! The absurdity of the situation appalled him.

Slowly, however, he began to understand. This was inevitable, for, when standing under someone, one can’t help but understand.

And he realised that he had no choice this time, for the deadline had been reached. The twenty-second step was the line, and there she stood, blocking the path into his house.

Thus having transcended into a sphere of realisation, he proceeded to ascend the steps. He put his right foot forward, hoping it was the right thing to do.

And going up two steps at a time, he reached the twenty-first step. Standing there, under her nose, feeling the power of her steely gaze upon him, he realised that this was it.

He drew a paper from his pocket, a crumpled, miserable-looking sheet. He stared at it for a moment, and then he sneezed.

For it was a tissue paper.

And then he took out another paper, an actual paper, and handed it in, thus submitting, not only to the will of the teacher, but the assignment as well.

For the story he had handed in was the one you have just finished reading.