Bahasa Inggris Adikku Novels & Stories

“Huh? I don’t know because I’m not an only child and I don’t have a sister either.” I fidgeted on the chair. After clearing my throat, I answered his question, “My mom was worried you would ….” Uh, how to explain it to him? “You know … bad things to me.” “Bad things?” His forehead frowned. “Oh, you mean doing naughty things to you?” he said with a thick British accent. I giggled. It was because of hearing his accent, but also because of his chosen words. “Yes, sort of. I hope you aren’t mad at her. She is always too worried about me because I’m her only child.”

I didn't talk much, everyone knew that; I hated talking to people, because the more I talked to a person, the stronger the urge to touch them. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" My father asked me. All I could think about at that moment was how weird fathers english was. His deep accented voice made the words sound more Greek than English. It was still a mystery to me how he'd prefer speaking in English when he was angry; if anything, he was supposed to speak in his native language when angry.

I pushed the thought away and nodded my head to answer him. " Hey honey " mum said as I entered the house that evening. I was so tired and I missed her too. Adam and I spent two hours trying to know the stupid william shakespeare english and then another two hours to learn our lines. He left around five thirty when he got an emergency call from his sister so I came home. " Hey mum " I said with a strained voice as I kicked my boots off my legs. I put my leg in the flip flop and then I walked up to her with a forced smile.

You would get a fair idea of how my spoken English was then, if I tell you this small anecdote. About a month before his death I showed my father a story I had written. It was a rags-to-riches story about one of the many friends of he had. He read it and then said that my writing skills were good enough for a Class X student, but I might find myself in a moment of embarrassment, if I didn’t work on my spoken bit, especially pronunciation. He said, “When you learn a language, you’ve got to speak it the way it is supposed to. Just being able to write it is half-learning” I did start working on my pronunciation and spoken English, with his guidance, although I found it hilarious to ape the BBC

He took after her like Sa'eed likes to say. "With Auntie." He pouted, sulking. He definitely wants to go back to their chamber and play but Maghrib is fast approaching so there is no way he can go back there. "Aw, we can go there tomorrow, hmm? Daddy will be back any moment, what are you going to tell him today?" And she listened attentively with his bad English and in completed words nagging her about his day. He also tend to mix it up with Arabic once in awhile, it makes her chest bloom. It is too early for him to start talking like that, she got worried at first but was assured some kids are like that.

It was still difficult to step up before all those alphas and speak. “I,” my voice cracked and I had to start again, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I didn’t prepare a speech or anything.” I’d tried to plan what to say, but everything sounded like either pathetic excuses or insane conspiracies when I practiced.

If I could just get rid of him, I would have kicked him before. I think we are going to the lake now which is also in the garden. "What are the words you're using? I don't understand because in all my life, I've only heard those from you. It's unfamiliar. Can you explain what kind of language you use?" I'm dead now. When I'm angry, I can't stop speaking some English. If he hadn't teased me and got mad because of them, I would not have been able to use English words that he could not understand.

he said before I was pinching my nose bridge. “Dad, I told you, we were creating the English words, not the Spanish words,” I said before I was trying to control my anger that I did not realize that I used the word that it has been long forgotten in my vocabulary. I opened my eyes and saw that my father was staring at me. I arched my eyebrows at him as he was still staring at me, not doing anything. “What?”

My tone dragged down because I had no idea what to address him as, and I’ve forgotten his name so that couldn’t suffice also. “You’re my in-law, I suppose it is only great that I try to get familiar with you. Out of all the suitable suitors my niece could have chosen, she chose you and that must be something,” his thick foreign accent coated his words in aura. Unlike Marcy, everybody here doesn’t have the same level of flow Marcy has in American accent. They all speak English like it’s truly their second language. And their traditional accent is always molding their English. “And what would you like to know about me?” I raised him a light smile.

"I саn't bаbу, I'm grіllіng. Brіаn, hеlр уоur sister out." "Dаd, I don't know thе first thіng аbоut thаt pump. I'll brеаk іt. You do rеmеmbеr thаt I'm gооd wіth аnіmаlѕ, nоt mасhіnеѕ, right? Rеmеmbеr thе Chеvу?"