THE BLACK NIGHT
By Jessica Spalding – Jones
Topic 4
The house was lit by candlelight while the crickets chirped throughout the night. The
moon shone through the old drapes giving off a smidge of natural light. Sounds rather
romantic, does it not? Candle-lit house, moonshine, and quiet -save for the melody of
the few crickets. However, this was not a romantic movie scene but rather another day
of Eskom verse the teenager frantically trying to finish her English essay hours before it
was due. One could say this was karma reigning on the poorly organized student.
However, I am going with a case of luck.
In those ghastly 4 hours, I could honestly understand why my parents kept telling me
why their childhood was so much harder. Without the advantages of technology, my
parents lived through what affectionately could be coined ''the stone age''. No wonder
my mother has such a hard time with her phone. Before the glory of the cell phone, the
only form of communication she had was writing on a stonepad or worse still,
communicating in person. There was no click of a button to make her life easier, faster,
and more immediately satisfying. I would have gone insane if that was my life. My
phone has catapulted me into a world of likes, instant replies, and filters that can turn
me into anything I can dream up, A world of wonders. The only notification that my face
does not light up to is sePush, alerting me stage 4 load shedding starts within the hour. I
might as well say goodbye to happiness and hello to boredom, sorrow and anxiety.
Sadly, returns us to the tale of The Black Night.
Anxiety flew through the roof as my laptop fought for survival, and I fought to think of
creative ideas to leap through my fingers and onto my keyboard. Unfortunately,
creative writing is a lot harder than one would think. My creative genius was as far out of
reach by Eskom's estimated time of return. I tried to make sensible sentences that
follow a rubric that felt next to impossible at the best of times. In the dark, it is as
foreign to me as another language. I browsed the internet for some anonymous
inspiration, decorative imagery, or clever alliterations. I had to dig deep into my already
By Jessica Spalding – Jones
Topic 4
The house was lit by candlelight while the crickets chirped throughout the night. The
moon shone through the old drapes giving off a smidge of natural light. Sounds rather
romantic, does it not? Candle-lit house, moonshine, and quiet -save for the melody of
the few crickets. However, this was not a romantic movie scene but rather another day
of Eskom verse the teenager frantically trying to finish her English essay hours before it
was due. One could say this was karma reigning on the poorly organized student.
However, I am going with a case of luck.
In those ghastly 4 hours, I could honestly understand why my parents kept telling me
why their childhood was so much harder. Without the advantages of technology, my
parents lived through what affectionately could be coined ''the stone age''. No wonder
my mother has such a hard time with her phone. Before the glory of the cell phone, the
only form of communication she had was writing on a stonepad or worse still,
communicating in person. There was no click of a button to make her life easier, faster,
and more immediately satisfying. I would have gone insane if that was my life. My
phone has catapulted me into a world of likes, instant replies, and filters that can turn
me into anything I can dream up, A world of wonders. The only notification that my face
does not light up to is sePush, alerting me stage 4 load shedding starts within the hour. I
might as well say goodbye to happiness and hello to boredom, sorrow and anxiety.
Sadly, returns us to the tale of The Black Night.
Anxiety flew through the roof as my laptop fought for survival, and I fought to think of
creative ideas to leap through my fingers and onto my keyboard. Unfortunately,
creative writing is a lot harder than one would think. My creative genius was as far out of
reach by Eskom's estimated time of return. I tried to make sensible sentences that
follow a rubric that felt next to impossible at the best of times. In the dark, it is as
foreign to me as another language. I browsed the internet for some anonymous
inspiration, decorative imagery, or clever alliterations. I had to dig deep into my already
