[i]This is an essay I had written back when I was fifteen. It was course work for my English language class - it received 50/50 but looking back on it now, I'm not sure if it deserved such praise. What are your thoughts? Deserved/undeserved? C&C? I'll take anything - enjoy![/i]

A memorable day

When I was a child, I loved many things: my parents, my family, my school, and my friends. There was one thing, however, that I loved more - the sky. Perhaps it was the colour; maybe it was the clouds, the sun, the moon, or the stars. One thing was for sure: I was infatuated with the world above me.

It was the year 1996. I was five years old and the sky was still the ruling object of my interest. In school, we were a few hours away from starting a new subject. My heart leapt at the sound of this: the rain cycle. Through my experiences as a child, I had come to my own bizarre theory: that the rain was the connection between the earth and the heavens. The excitement rushed through my body as my eagerness grew.

“Okay class, does anyone remember what we will be studying today?” asked the teacher.
At once, my hand shot into the air.
“Yes, Matthew?”
“The rain cycle!” I replied.
“Very good Matthew. Yes, today we will be studying the rain cycle.”
I was glowing with pride.

As the lesson progressed, my knowledge of the sky rapidly expanded with each drop of information being soaked up like a sponge. The sun made clouds, clouds gave rain, and rain became rivers and eventually made its way back to the ocean. At this point, I had become anxious of how a cloud could make it up to the top of a mountain, so I raised my hand.

“Yes, Matthew?” asked the teacher,
“How far are the clouds away from the ground?” There was concern in my tone and I eagerly awaited an answer.
The teacher chuckled, “The clouds? They must be miles and miles above the ground.”
It is amazing how a few, simple, well sprinkled words can do so much to drown a child’s dreams…I was devastated.

It had already been four days since we had finished off the work of the rain cycle, and my spirits were slowly sinking to the center of the earth. My parents and friends had already talked to me after the incident; I had apparently burst into tears during the teachers chuckling. Too many arguments had taken place over the incident, but it did not matter. My mind was in a constant state of numbness, I was in a deep depression.
My mother entered my room and attempted another shot at cheering me up.
“Hello Matt.”
I grunted the resemblance of a reply to her.
She sat on my bed next to me,
“You know, there are people who go above the clouds into space.”
My heart leapt,
“Really? What age do you have to be?”
My mother grimaced,
“Well, it’s not age, but you will probably have to be over twenty-five at least. And you’ll have to go through a lot of training.”
My heart sank to the core of the earth once more.
“So I haven’t got a chance!”
I buried my head in my cushions again and fell silent as my mother left the room.

I thought the sky was perfection, an object of immense beauty, but now it felt like a bland ceiling of depression steadily crushing my spirit. Its only effect was to increase my misery and fuel the burning rage now inside me. Every wisp of cloud taunted and teased my mind. This object out of reach was driving me to the very edge of madness. I was tired of moping. Tired of waiting and yet I had to find out for myself. If I could not touch the clouds - that would be it. Curiosity may have killed the cat but if I could touch the sky, it would change my life.

I went about my investigation with all the logic I could muster from the depths of my five-year-old mind. If I was to touch the clouds, I needed to get myself to the highest place I could reach. The hills near my house were much too low – and too far away – and the top of the trees could not support my weight. I thought, and thought, until the answer burst through the top of my head like a bullet: The roof of my house! It had been staring me in the face and yet I was blind to the simplicity of the plan.

However, what was my plan? How could I get onto the roof? The only way up was through the window in my mother and father’s bedroom - forbidden territory! I think this was because the last time I had taken the liberty of redecorating the room with crayons and glue. This was a big risk, but…this was important!

I crept from my room as quietly and quickly as I could. I opened the door and rushed for the window. What luck! The window opened easily. I looked out into the vastness of the open space before me. The sky was half clouded but it was no longer mocking me. My eyes glanced at the slanted roof of the garage below – it was time.

I stepped out on to the window ledge and finding some holes, began to climb the wall. Excitement was welling up inside me. Slowly I inched upwards – three feet, two feet, one foot. My right hand had made it to the roof. I was almost there – then my foot slipped. I was hanging on to the roof for my life. Now both feet frantically pounding the walls, searching for fresh foot holds. I was loosing my grip. Two fingers slipped. Found them!

I jammed my feet in the two holes. My heart was still hammering against my ribcage. I had actually believed that I was going to die. I started to laugh hysterically…I screamed. The once welcoming holes had given way; my hands lost their grip and now I had begun a rapid descent with increasing speed – I was falling down.

Flesh ripped from my hands and fingers, as I grabbed and grasped at anything thing close to me. The screaming intensified as the eternity of my horror unfolded. My life flashed before my eyes. Faded memories; strong memories; an oblivion of emotion. My heart continued to pulverize my chest. I felt as though my insides had been chained to the roof.

I spun uncontrollably in the air and braced myself for an impact. My right arm was the first to make contact with the roof. Pain; an unbearable sear of pain crescendoed through my body. I had felt my forearm snap; I screamed! This was no ordinary scream as it pierced through the clouds that had fascinated me. I rolled down the garage roof every ounce of my focus was now on cradling my severely, bleeding arm. Falling … falling … continually falling. My body contorted as I twisted in the air.

Crack! ... My leg shattered. I was numb, save for the excruciating pain in my right arm and now my left leg. My soul was dead; it had drifted from my broken body accompanied by my screams of pain. Then silence. I gasped one last shuddering breath of life and darkness enveloped me. The last thing I remember was a shadowy figure looming over me, a loud incomprehensible gibbering emitting from its eerie form. Then I vanished to the dark.

I woke in an enormous white room, below an unfamiliar ceiling, surrounded by children, like me, injured and bed-ridden, tended by women in white. One of the women froze in front of me. Her eyes widened as I turned my gaze onto her. She hurried out of the room and was back in a near flash, this time accompanied by a man in a white coat.
“Where am I?” I whispered
“In a hospital. Dear God, you’re lucky to be alive, kiddo.”
I smiled and floated back into my bed of clouds and blissful dreams of the sky. So this is heaven – or is it hospital?

I thought it was fantastic ^.^
I think it deserves the 50/50.

Thanks very much

but isn't there anything you could criticize? (besides it being very cheesy)