I wrote the following essay when I was 9 years old. It recounts a story around "The Family Heirloom" . The sun streaming through the window, faintly outlined the furniture in the spacious study of the mansion. The study was beautifully furnished with golden drapes and a large piece of oil painting which hung just next to a towering bookshelf made of mahogany. As cheery as a sunbeam and a twinkle in her eyes, Cynthia entered the study with a spring in her step. Entering the room, she muttered saying that this was the most beloved part of the mansion. Cynthia was the ten-year-old daughter of the owner of the mansion. That day being a public holiday, Cynthia’s mother made her clean the bookshelves in the study. While cleaning them, she was fascinated with the vast collection of books lined up on the bookshelves. At that juncture, Cynthia spotted an unfamiliar looking box on the lowest part of the bookshelf. Puzzled, she stared at it wonde...
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