A week ago, we read a short story called The Lady and The Tiger. Our teacher challenged us to come up with our own ending to the story, we used some made-up words too. We also had to create to a set of doors to decorate our ending.

His heart pounding, his face white, the accused lover walked toward the right door. But this is not remotely like a lover walking down the aisle, because then there is not a chance that a ferocious, flesh eating tiger will devour you in an instant. Alas, this was the law of the semi-barbaric king who ordered that all accused subjects must choose a door, left or right. One door conframed a lion and the other, a lady. This man however was certain that the door which conframed the lady was on his right. He reached the door and as he prepared to open it, he made a wish. The wish was not one of hoping that the lady came out of the door, (for the semi-barbaric princess had already told him that this was so) but it was that his soon-to-be wife would be fair and just.

With one great heave the man swung open the door and stared in horror at the monstrous beast in the shadows, it was the tiger. Many years later the citizens that had witnessed that gruesome event would always agree that the young man had not gone down screaming or begging for mercy, but the youth had just stood there, his face filled with endless question.