And so i found myself in the middle of a desert.

This was no ordinary desert, for the sands were the hues of the rainbow, in every shade possible. A hot, stinging wind lashed my face, and my feet, half-sunken into a patch of deep blue sands, burned from the heat. The skies were a magnificent mix of pinks and purples, clear and without the slightest hint of a cloud in them. A tired red Sun stood at its zenith, making everything around me seem red-hot to the touch.

The Star. Where was it?

Following my senses, i started westwards, trudging through the multicoloured sands, which blew into the holes in my clothes, and leaked into my breeches, making them uncomfortable and gritty. My throat was parched and i would have killed for a drink of any sort. After what must have been hours, but which could have just been minutes, the silhouette of a man appeared upon the next dune. The thirst getting the better of me, i quickened my pace, trying to reach him.

As if sensing my thoughts, i was on that dune in a matter of seconds, but it could have been hours as well, for my mind was so thirst-addled that i stopped perceiving time as it was. He was dressed in clothes most unlikely for a desert wanderer – a thick deep blue tunic, with lines of intricate gold embroidery was draped around him, and his headdress was that of popes and hierophants. He wore leather sandals, and he turned in response to my croaked greeting.

He looked as old as time. He looked wizened and well-travelled, but there was a fire raging in his steel-grey eyes. And he said, ‘what do you seek?’

Proudly, i replied, ‘I seek a fallen Star, for my Heart’s Desire,’ to which he just nodded, albeit a little sadly.

‘Young man, do you think you’ve chosen the right path in Fate’s Labyrinth? Where are you?’

I looked around. It was obvious that i was in a desert, but ahead of me there stood a never-ending row of hourglasses, with multicoloured sands flowing up and down, from bulb to bulb. I was in limbo, a place which is not a place, a place out of time and space. Westwards? Was i just following my heart? The old man spoke.

‘Do you know where you are now? This is Limbo. There are many roads which lead here, but only one which leads out. I have seen many travellers, lost and floundering, but this desert will not let you die, for how can you die when you are in a place which is neither time nor space? One doesn’t age or fall ill here, i’m afraid – that’s all the more torturous isn’t it? I have seen men and women, crusaders and beggars, dreams and nightmares.

‘I was once like you. I undertook a quest for a fallen Star, to heal my ailing children. I do not expect to see them again, for i have spent eternities and eternities here. It is said that the path out of limbo comes every time it rains in the desert, but alas, how often does it rain in the desert? I have not felt a single drop of water on my skin for eons.

‘In this desert, there’s also a beautiful woman, a High Priestess, who comes to you every now and then, to make everything seem alright, to lend you comfort and to tell you a story. In fact, it is custom here for travellers to share stories, to pass the wait for the skies to open for the rain to bring us deliverance.

How could Fate play such a cruel trick on me? The Star seemed no further away than before, but here i was in this strange, timeless place. I wanted to scream and rail at the heavens, but who would hear me? And what about her? And what about my loved ones?

I sank into my knees, despair flooding my senses, overwhelming my desire. My companion, sensing my distress, sat on his haunches and began to tell me a story. I don’t remember what he told me, but those whispered words worked on my scarred soul like the most soothing of balms. It would be a long wait.

And all along, the glowing red orb shone ahead.

There is a city, made of multicoloured glass and silver. It seems like nothing more than just a mass of multicoloured towers and spires, but once you pass beneath its wondrous arch, embellished with intricate curves and carvings, you will begin to truly marvel at the beauty of the shades of crimson and gold, of umber and white, and of gleaming silver, everywhere you go – from the crystal spire of the Tower to the hallowed corridors of the Library.

And right in the heart of this city, there is a large plaza, with a magnificent flight of glass steps leading up to a glass palace. Within its glass spires (which were made with just enough gold that it shimmered from a distance but was transparent under closer inspection) lived an Emperor.

He was neither exceptionally wise nor brave in battle, but no one could dispute that he was the most cunning of all politicians. He did all the right things, such that the people loved him, but never left any thought to improvement. A man of peace, he regularly sent magnificent gifts of edible, glass fruit and valuable, but useless baubles to the neighbouring city-states to placate the fancies of whoever was ruler at that particular time.

And in between all these dangerous political games, the city of glass and silver flourished.

Our Emperor, concerned mainly with maintaining stability and projecting an image of himself which would be immortalised in all time, decided to have himself a set of glass clothes made, for what better way could he demonstrate himself as the ruler of the City of Glass?

And so a call went out to all the glassmakers of this wondrous city, who wondered at the strangeness of the request, but shrugged and carried on with it anyway. It was hard labour, but the glassmakers respected the king, and the furnaces were kept burning for fourteen nights in a row, for it is a most difficult thing to mould glass into something which was even barely wearable. These glassmakers were no ordinary glassmakers, however, and worked hard, finally finishing the clothes.

They were magnificent, with shades of gold, silver, umber, angry crimson, emerald green, and sapphire blue. (You should remember, however, that glass is transparent.) The Emperor looked at these clothes, and beamed in delight. He decreed that there be a city-wide celebration in commemoration of the glassworkers’ hard work, where he would parade in his new clothes.

Afraid of public opinion, however, our Emperor consulted the palace staff. All his generals, advisors, cooks and butlers all maintained that it was the most regal set of clothing ever to be worn by royalty. And finally it came to the court jester, which could have been our Fool, but which might not have been again.

‘Pray tell me, Fool, what you think of these clothes?’

‘My liege, i do believe that your nether regions are clear to see.’

It has been said that it was the prerogative of fools, idiots and children to point out that the Emperor was naked. But this Emperor, in a fit of rage, ordered the jester out to the main court, where he was quartered and his entrails fed to the dogs. The Emperor then carried on with the celebrations, and the parade, for any ruler would be most unwise to take back any decree.

And what did you learn, dear Dreamer?

She was siting in a field, surrounded by the darkness, and the crickets, enjoying the silence and the cool night breeze. If you approached her, you would feel an aura of regality, as if there was a white aura of sanctuary and kindness surrounding her, even if she never showed it.

She had piercing, sky-blue eyes and a tight-lipped expression, one which showed bemusement, while betraying incredible knowledge, knowledge far beyond whatever anyone once knew. I only saw her once, sitting in that field of infinite vastness, the cool breeze in perfect contrast to the summer madness so far.

And then she turned to look at me. And i began to believe in wonders and miracles.

The song of the crickets seemed to turn into a musical masterpiece, those kinds which musicians spend decades trying to master but who fail ultimately; the stars, originally just nothing more than a random mass of crushed diamonds and glimmering sapphires, seemed to arrange themselves into the most beautiful of brooches; the coolness of the night never seemed more refreshing; and the breeze seemed to shimmer with untold magics and secrets.

And her regality – who could forget? Her sky-blue eyes sparkled and she took my hand gently, bidding me to spend some time with her. She smelt of summer, roses, strawberries, and at the same time of love, a maternal feeling which far exceeded her apparent age, for she could not have seen more than 21 summers and winters. And before i could open my mouth to speak, she shushed me with a gentle finger, and the words seemed to form in my mind.

‘Don’t talk. Just kiss.’

And as her mouth opened against mine, a whole world of secrets became clear to me. I could tell you, at that moment, why the Moon only smiled while asleep; where to find the secrets of Fate, or what babies actually meant with each babble or wail. I could tell you all that. I could also tell you how even Eternity had to come to an end, which became clear to me after she broke off the kiss. A moment of magic, which seemed to last forever, but was nothing more than a blink of the eye. But perhaps it’s so with all magic – turning eternity into microseconds…

She smiled and looked into my eyes.

‘You’ll be just fine, child. Just fine. The fates will be kind to you.’ Her aura of regality seemed to change, all to subtly, into one of harmony and peace. And then she smiled, albeit with a tinge of melancholy.

‘It is time for us to part, dear dreamer.’ And it was as if with each word she spoke, she spoke a volume of tales, tales unheard of in reality, tales only told by dreams to dreamers, tales forgotten upon awakening, each and every single time. Tales which would put the best of storytellers to shame, stories which gave me meaning and inner quiet. And then she let go of my hand, standing up and stepping away from me.

And with each step, she seemed to rise into the velvet sky, as if stars were calling her.

And then i woke up.

To this day, i search the vast plains after dusk, looking. Waiting for that feeling of sanctuary to envelope me like a mother’s protective arms around her unborn child; waiting for the crickets’ song to turn into the music of harps and mandolins; waiting for the stars to re-arrange themselves into that all-too-familiar brooch. Waiting for that scent of strawberries and summer to waft gently on the breeze, even in the cold white of winter.

I’ve been looking for her. The Empress of my Heart.

Welcome, dear student. You will not like this experience. Please choose and answer only one of the following. Essays must be at least 800 words in length. Counts for 50% of your total score!

1. Hell is Other People. Do you agree?

2. Delirium is what keeps some sane. Argue and explain this statement, taking reference from

• Iosef Stalin
• Kim Jong-Il
• George W. Bush

3. ‘And so they lived happily ever after.’ Argue against this statement, and propose a replacement sentence for the endings of fairy-tales.

4. The ties of family bind both ways. Do you agree?

5. Explore a scandal of your religious faith. You may neither defend or attack this weakness of your religion. (If you are a free-thinker, you may not answer this question.)

6. ‘The king is dead. Long live the king!’ Using this statement, comment on the fragility of human loyalties.

7. If i were God, I would abolish…

8. ‘Angels and demons clash over every man holding a sword.’ Expand and debate this statement.

9. If destiny is fixed and there is no way to change it, write a speech for a conference of world leaders to convince them to accept their fates.

10. ‘You got a lifetime. No more, no less.’ Write an essay about this statement from the viewpoint of a terminally-ill 17-year-old.

11. Love is the funeral of hearts. Do you agree?

12. ‘God must be an egoist, since he, the perfect being, can only think of perfection, which is himself.’ (Aristotle) Do you agree?

Please write your answers in red or black ink (if your pens are blue, please request for a spike from the invigilator for you to prick your fingers.)

Now awaken, dear dreamer, and be thankful that you don’t have to answer such questions at school.