Caricature theme - Narcotics Superintendant

Client's brief:-
"My idea is to have the Central Nacrotics Bureau logo as the backdrop. He in a police uniform with the rank of a Suprintendant. Below include Three Mugs of Beer, with our names of Krishnan, Brian & Ronie...
Attached is the rank structure of the Police Force... Suprintendant rank is one crest and two peaks. Please emphasis on this as this is a promotion gift.
Do not have a CMB logo in soft copy. You may wish to goggle in for it under CNB website. www. cnb.gov.sg. "

Was wondering what colour was the uniform of a Narcotics Superintendant.
Checked their website and can't find any clue.
Since the client mentioned 'police force', I will just treat him as a police.
Dark blue uniform then.

Immediate response from the client upon his collection:-
"Impressive!"

The Anti-Drug book

Just received this book from my client - Outlook Editorial and Research.
It is finally out.
Thank you, Karsten.

First look at the cover, I am a little disappointed with the colours.
Looked dull as compared to my original artwork.
Perhaps it is due to the reason of printed in CMYK, while my original is iin RGB.
But the gradient background is gone, and replaced with bands of colours.

The inner pages.


Original artworks here.

Quick glance of the whole book.
I used my P990i to video it, for easy upload to YouTube.
Thus, can't compared with the quality of using a digital video camcorder, which I use it to video in events.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 18

Sofia Amanda Bening
Henry Park Primary School, 4 Harmony

Happiness and Found

“Hey! Hey you! Come here!” a hoarse voice from the alleyway beckoned Dillon to come over to a dilapidated pile of cardboard boxes. Dillon’s body stiffened, his feet rooted to the ground. He slowly turned around and saw a dark shape lurking in the darkness. The shape shouted, “Hey you! Are you deaf? Come here!” Dillon slowly walked towards the alleyway, his heart racing with each step he took. To his surprise, it was a boy with orange hair and a cunning smile. Dillon recognised it was Calvin, who was usually seen taking drugs with his friends in the alleyway.

“Hey, Dillon! Wanna try some drugs? Tell you what—just for you, I will give you a packet for five dollars”, Calvin smirked.



Dillon stared at the packet of pink pills. “Hmm … taking drugs would be pretty cool. I’ve always wanted to be in Calvin’s gang”, he thought.

Dillon said alright, and paid Calvin all his pocket money. Calvin sniggered and ran off.

At home, Dillon went to his room and popped the pills into his mouth. He immediately jumped up and laughed, “WOWEE!” Dillon felt so high he started dancing and pictured in his mind that he was floating in the sky, sitting on a nice, soft cloud. After five minutes, he came to a stop and lay down on the floor, grinning and humming to himself. “I had no idea they could be so irresistible! I think I’ll take all of them and get some more!” Dillon murmured. Day after day, Dillon met Calvin at the same alleyway to buy the pink pills. Day after day, Dillon began to lose his appetite for food and he had difficulty going to sleep. By not having enough sleep, he could not concentrate in class. His grades started to PLUNGE and he was often reprimanded by the teachers for missing his classes. He began hallucinating and hearing voices in his head. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. By September, Dillon was an addict. Whenever Dillon didn’t have enough money to buy his supply, he would start to roll on the floor, SCREAM, beat the wall and pull his hair. It almost seemed like he was crazy and had a mental illness. But the last day of October was Dillon’s turning point.

Dillon was hanging out at the bus stop with Calvin and a secondary school drop-out named Lyle. The three drug addicts were taking drugs and kicking sand into each other’s eyes. Dillon was ecstatic that he was finally part of a cool gang. Nobody would think of him as a geek anymore! Suddenly, Calvin spotted a policeman patrolling at the corner of his eye. Deciding to leave “uncool” Dillon, Calvin signalled to Lyle, and they were about to take off when Dillon called, “Hey, where are you going?”

Lyle told him that they were going to the restroom. Dillon shrugged and popped some more drugs into his mouth, sucking on them slowly just to prolong the pleasure. When Dillon thought that things were going well, the policeman spotted him. The policeman rushed and grabbed hold of Dillon. Dillon screamed and struggled, but it was no good. The policeman brought the scruffy boy to the police station.

“No! No! I want those back! Give them back to me, you fat bozo! No!” Dillon flew into a horrific rage when the policeman snatched his drugs away. The policeman sighed deeply. This was a terrible situation Dillon had gotten himself into. When his parents arrived at the police station, they were aghast at the sight of their son who used to be health-conscious and top of his class. Dillon’s mother broke down and collapsed into her husband’s arms, sobbing. Dillon’s father felt worse than wretched.

Dillon screamed, “I said I want those back! Give them to me NOW!” Dillon was immediately sent to the Boys’ Home.

The Boys’ Home was absolutely horrifying. The boys there were either running, screaming, crying or fighting. Dillon sat in a chair for three days, emotionless and tortured without his drugs. Suddenly, a word shot into his head like a bullet: HAPPINESS. Where had all the happiness, joy and cheerfulness inside him gone? Tears welled up and stung in Dillon’s eyes. He dreaded the thought that his parents were keeping him in that cell forever. Dillon then realised that there was much more to life than taking drugs like criminals. He resolved to change his life, which was in shambles then. Dillon cried uncontrollably when his parents came to visit the following day and told them that he had been thinking about his life. His parents smiled. They had no idea Dillon could recover from his addiction so quickly. The policeman agreed to take Dillon home one week later.

Not taking drugs for the rest of his life was difficult for Dillon to cope with, but with determination and help from his parents, he managed to break through the barrier of drug addiction in two weeks. A few years later when Dillon was 15, he and his clever classmate Stefanie put up a rap music video on Youtube that encouraged younger kids to stay away from drugs.



Yo, this is Stefanie,
And I’m so happy
That my friend Dillon has found the key,
To happiness and freedom for the resta his life,
‘Cos once you take drugs your life is fulla strife!
Yo, this is Dillon,
And I’m happy to say
That now I’m drug-free every day,
‘Cos drugs are da worst, you can’t think straight,
You start to feel sick and begin to shake!
(together) So, don’t take drugs, it’s bad for you,
Unless you wanna end up “Cuckoo!”

Dillon was grateful for the change in his life. When he was 21, he became a spokesperson for an anti-drug programme. Dillon had finally found happiness that lasted the rest of his life.

Finally done!!!
This project started since this February, and finally ended today.
Quite a 'torture' to me, as I usually finished my job in 1- few days' time, depending on the job requirements.
You would have noticed the style for the cover is different from those essays.
The client approved and accepted the former, and thus I proceeded with the latter. Using the same style, the whole batch of 36 pencil sketches were all rejected, and they were sent in batches. They didn't say anything during they receive it along the way. This of course made me very worked up. Anyway, this was mentioned earlier on, so I won't raise it up further.

I just wonder when they will come back to me to redo the cover, given that it was a different style with the illustrations (for the essay) in the book.

By the way, just a note that these were the 18 winning essays from the anti-drug essay competition.
Winner was Wilson Wu Fan.
Second place was Debbie Michelle Ng, and third place was Sofia Amanda Bening

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 17

Title: A Horrible Price to Pay

Jerika Low En Ru
St. Anthony’s Canossian Primary, 4 Allamanda

Timothy used to be a young, inquisitive boy, always willing to try new things. He was a fast learner and could always easily comprehend whatever his teacher taught him. He had a bright future ahead of him, and even planned to be a doctor. His whole life was mapped out for him, and with his quick tongue and sharp wit, it was hard to believe that he would not succeed.

That was until John came into his life. It was a normal afternoon and Timothy was walking home after school. He had just reached the void deck when suddenly a rowdy-looking youngster stopped him. “Give me all your money now or …”



Timothy saw the glint of a knife in the youngster’s right hand and immediately knew what was about to happen to him. Just then, a young boy about Timothy’s age sauntered up with a few older teenagers.

“Hey! Who do you think you are! Stop harassing others before we report you to the police!”

The youngster was about to protest, but seeing that he was outnumbered, he took to his heels and disappeared in a flash. Timothy thanked the group of teenagers and the boy introduced himself as John. However, the conversation did not end there.

“You want to repay us for helping you? Well then why don’t you hang out with us and have some fun.”

A red-haired boy smirked knowingly. Seeing no harm in that, Timothy agreed. Immediately, John looked around the void deck and whipped out a packet containing pink pills. The whole gang urged Timothy to take one, and he foolishly came to the conclusion that there was no harm in trying just one.

He was wrong. The next few months of his life whizzed past in a blur. He constantly felt irritable, dazed and had horrible hallucinations. He drew further and further apart from his younger siblings, who constantly stole worried glances at their once-beloved big brother. He spent almost all of his time after school either begging for more drugs or trying to steal money to buy drugs.



One day when he had managed to obtain some money to buy more drugs, something happened. He was making his purchase, and was drenched in sweat and shivering. Just as John was about to hand him the packet of pink pills, a shout captured his attention. It was two narcotics officers! Timothy tried to run, but he was too weak and collapsed on the ground. John had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Come with us, you’re in deep trouble young man!” one of the narcotics officers hollered. They brought him back to the Central Narcotics Bureau and called his parents. When they found out what had happened, they started sobbing in disappointment. Why had they not found out earlier? Why didn’t they stop him? Regrets filled the entire atmosphere, but everyone knew that it was too late to bring things back to what they once were.

Timothy entered a drug rehabilitation centre, where he suffered withdrawal symptoms. It was a very difficult period of his life, and he encountered countless hardships. He was released a couple of years later when he was finally released and drug-free. He regretted the horrible encounter with John and started a whole new life. He made up with his family, who welcomed him back with open arms. Now, Timothy is busy spreading the message: Do not abuse drugs; the only thing that will come out of it is a horrible price to pay.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 16

Gwyneth Lee Yi Xin
Nan Chiau Primary School, 5A

From the CNB website, there were 2,166 drug abusers in 2007 as compared to 1,218 in 2006. Repeat drug abusers made up 77% of the total number of abusers. The composition of the age groups was as follows: 39% were forty and above, 33% were thirty to thirty-nine, 25% were twenty to twenty-nine and 3% were under twenty.

From the age groups of thirty to forty and above, which make up 72%, I feel that most of them already have families with young children. They are the faceless victims when their fathers or mothers are punished by the law for their morbid drub abusing.

In my school library, I came across the book Broken Mirror. This book is based on true stories from ex-drug abusers. These drug abusers mostly had parents or friends who gambled or abused drugs. Others relate the plight of the drug abusers’ children. After I had read this book, what touched my heart was that the drug abusers were just children when they came across this habit. Some were just infants! I was deeply sorry for them as I read through their encounters. Some stories were so touching I could not refrain from shedding a tear or two.

I sympathise and feel for those innocent children of drug abusers.



It would be difficult for children to understand why their parents need to go to jail. Why they are not able to see their parents for a long period of time, why they are put in a foster home, and how they will be looked upon by society for having parents who are drug abusers. Needless to say, they lack self-confidence and feel disadvantaged. They come from a broken family and most probably will not have enough financial means to cover their daily needs. They will be deprived of many opportunities compared to more fortunate children.

I hope that this society will not look down on them, but instead will give them a helping hand. It is unfair to them if they are judged by their backgrounds and where they come from. We should also not discriminate against them, but instead give them the opportunity to lead a normal and happy life.



It does not matter who their parents are, but rather what they grow up to be.

Drugs not only destroy a person’s life, they also hurt the people around him or her. I strongly believe that the price for taking drugs is too high to pay, as many innocent children are deprived of their happy childhood because of drugs.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 15

Isabella Loh
Henry Park Primary School, 6 Initiative

That fateful Monday morning, the gorgeous weather betrayed the less than pleasant events that would take place that day. The sky was a shade of powder blue and a few cotton-wool clouds, blown by the light breeze, drifted lazily across the sky. I was having the typical Monday blues and was trudging grimly, shouldering my backpack on the seemingly tiny stretch of pavement towards my school.

“Amy! Wait for me!” a distant voice called out, just across the road. I abruptly stopped and swivelled to face the speaker.

“Gosh, I haven’t seen you for how long? Anyway, meet me here after school, ok? I want to show you something”, my best friend, Sandra, babbled excitedly.

I should have ignored her request and run to the safety of the school gates; after all, we had been strangers for two weeks. Her listless, irritable mood had soured our friendship. Instead, I dully nodded my head, half asleep, and just continued on my way.

It was only at the end of the last lesson when the bell was just seconds from ringing that I remembered her words, that the matter actually sunk in.

Soon enough, the familiar shrill bell rang and the sound of the screeching of chairs being pushed back and the excited chatter of my schoolmates filled the air. I grimaced slightly but scurried hurriedly to just outside the school gates where dozens of my schoolmates were chatting with their friends as they crossed the road.

“Amy! I didn’t think you would come! Why don’t you come and take a walk with me? I want to show you some of my new friends!” Sandra linked arms with me and chattered eagerly as she steered me in the direction of the construction site a stone’s throw away from our school.

She continued chattering away until we finally arrived at the construction site. She warily glanced around and quickly dashed to the bottom of one of the scaffolds.

“I did it, didn’t I? I kept my promise, now where is my reward?” Sandra lost her eager expression and took on a more sinister, more hungry one as we drew close to a few huddling girls.

“Of course you get your reward. I’m sure she’ll love it”, said the apparent leader, a tall, gangly girl, as she discreetly passed a packet of something colourful to Sandra.

“What are you talking about? What will I love?” I asked curiously.

“You will find out soon enough. Why don’t you try it right now?” she smiled invitingly and proffered a small packet of what looked like colourful pills.



“Is that… is that ecstasy?” I looked incredulously at Sandra who had swallowed the whole packet of pills.

“No, no, this is XTC, it’s harmless!” That slightly desperate tone in her voice gave it away.

I sprinted swiftly in the direction of the school and none of them seemed to be steady enough to pursue me. I dashed into the principal’s office and gabbled the first thing that came into my mind.

“They’re taking drugs at the construction site!” I gabbled anxiously.

My principal swiftly issued several teachers to apprehend the students and with a flash of fingers, dialled the number for the Central Narcotics Bureau.



I was in shock and my vision was blurring like overexposed pictures. It was my first narrow brush with drugs and I could not believe someone would dare to take drugs in the heart of Singapore.

Needless to say, that gang of girls was sent for rehabilitation in the girls’ home and their drugs were seized. I never saw Sandra again and I am ashamed to say that I am glad.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 14

Chia Yan Min, Kimberly
Zhangde Primary School

“The price for taking drugs is too high to pay”, I thought as I looked out of the window in my room. As the light of dawn seeped into my room, tears rolled down my cheeks. The boys’ home was going to be my new home for the next three years. I will always remember my moment of folly that caused me to suffer this fate. How I got here started like this…

The dappled sun shone through the trees, creating mysterious shadows. I was walking home from school, feeling dejected due to the bad results I got in my exams. I had failed in almost all my subjects! I dreaded the prospect of facing my mother after she came home from work that evening. She would surely blow her top over my results!

I dragged my feet along, my crestfallen face a picture of disappointment. At that moment, a teenage boy approached me at the void deck of my block. He had bloodshot eyes and his hair was unkempt. He wore loose, ill-fitting and mismatched clothes. “Hey boy, do you want to buy these drugs? They are a mix of Heroin, Ice and Ecstasy. They can relieve stress, let you study harder and let you get good results!” I was doubtful of his claim, but I was also burning with curiosity. I peered at the pills. If they could really make me achieve these results as the teenager said, then they were just what I needed!

Although I knew that drugs were bad for me, I was so taken in by the teenager’s words that without even thinking twice, I agreed to buy the drugs. The drugs were quite cheap and cost only two dollars. I continued walking home, planning to take the drugs when I reached home. I knew that nobody would be at home since both my parents were at work. This way, my little secret of taking drugs would be safe with me.

When I reached home, I immediately threw my schoolbag down and ran to my bedroom. I sat on my bed and examined the drugs carefully. My conscience was telling me not to eat the drugs, but curiosity got the better of me. I popped a drug into my mouth, swallowed it down and waited for the effects that the teenager had promised would happen. Five minutes passed. Nothing happened. An hour passed. I started to feel more energetic, but also a little dizzy.

I started to do my homework. Indeed, I could do it at a much faster rate than usual. Days passed and soon I was addicted to a cocktail of drugs. My studies were not up standard but I thought nothing of it, as whenever I took drugs I would be on a “high” and nothing bothered me. I felt on top of the world!

Then one day, my luck changed. I was just buying drugs as usual when out of the blue a man appeared. He walked up to the teenager and asked to buy drugs. When the teenager gave him the drugs in a small packet, he took out an identity card and said in a gruff voice, “Stop! You two are under arrest! Drop all the drugs!”



I finally realized what was happening. The man was actually a plainclothes Central Narcotics Bureau officer and was going undercover to expose this drug selling operation! I tried to make a run for it but to no avail. Other police officers soon appeared and pinned my arms behind my back. My heart thumped wildly and my legs trembled like jelly. I was led away into a police car. My head hung low and my shoulders slumped.

My parents were informed of my arrest via a call made by the officers. I overheard my father asking the officers repeatedly whether this was true, disbelieving what they said. I also heard faint sobbing sounds in the background, presumably from my mother. My face was red with shame.

As I was still a minor, I was charged in the Juvenile Court. Being caught red-handed while buying drugs, I had no defence against my crime. My parents were there in court. Guilt was written all over my face as the charges against me were read out. I was sentenced to three years at the boys’ home.



When I caught sight of my mother, I could hardly recognise her. She looked sad and woebegone, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her tearstained face was swollen with grief. My gaze wandered to my father. Although he knew that I was looking at him, his eyes refused to meet mine. It finally dawned on me that my taking of drugs would not only hurt myself, but also my family and the people around me. I bitterly regretted ever taking drugs.

The chirping of birds jolted me back to reality. As I looked at the pale blue sky out of my window, I made a silent vow not to take drugs ever again and to turn over a new leaf. I believed that there was still some good in me and that my parents would forgive me for my wrongdoings. This will serve as a constant reminder to me and everyone else to stay away from drugs. It will always stay in my heart and will be etched in my mind forever.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 13

Debbie Michelle Ng
Canossa Convent Primary, Pr 5 Charity

Standing at the side of the stage, waiting to receive my hard-earned scholarship, I felt like a totally different person. I was no longer a slave to my drug addiction. I can still remember the day when I had my first taste of heroin…

I was going through a difficult time in my life. My parents were constantly fighting and I was worried that divorce was imminent. My grades started falling from A’s to D’s. Most of my test papers had remarks like “Needs to work harder” or “Does not put in effort” scribbled across them. I felt depressed, miserable and dejected. I did not know what to do. My life was turning upside down and I just didn’t know what to do.

The holidays were nearing, but I felt no joy. Many people had started to notice my unhappiness. Some tried to talk to me but I brushed them off. Others simply avoided me like the plague. However, one morning during recess I felt a nudge and a whisper in my ear, “Meet me after school at the video arcade. I have something that will help you forget your troubles.” I quickly turned around, to see my schoolmate Jerome disappear around the corner. “Hey!” I called out, but he had already gone. My curiosity gnawed at me, like how a hungry dog would gnaw at a bone. What could he have that could help me solve my problems, I wondered.

The morning seemed to pass by in a blur. Before I knew it, the bell had rung to signal the end of yet another school day. I walked to the video arcade, just behind my school. Jerome was already there, waiting for me. He signalled for me to go to the back of the video arcade. Silently, like a pair of sly rats, we slunk to the dingy back room of the arcade. He produced from his pocket a small transparent sachet filled with a white powder.



“This”, he whispered in a low voice, “is the answer to all your problems.” I eyed the powder suspiciously. “What’s that?” I asked him. “Just call it Hero Powder”, he said. “You mean heroin?” I asked. He just stared nonchalantly at me and said, “Call it whatever you want. It’ll make you feel better.” I reached out, not realising that I was about to be sucked into a black hole of addiction. That first sniff of heroin would not be my last. The ecstasy hit me almost immediately. I felt high, as if I were floating on a cloud, and as if all my troubles had just floated away like a puff of smoke.

As days went by, I found myself craving for more and more. The heroin did not come cheaply, though. In no time at all, my savings account was practically depleted. I saved all my pocket money just to pay for the drug. It was never enough. Jerome became my best friend. After all, only he understood what I was going through. Or at least I thought he did. Other friends whom I used to hang out with drifted away. I had changed, and yet I did not even realise it. I was growing thinner and my face had taken on a gaunt look. My hair, once sleek and shining, was now dull and some days even matted. My eyes were often bloodshot, as if from an urgent lack of sleep. Most days I ended up sleeping in class because without my heroin fix I just could not remain awake and focus.

Then one day, as I was halfway through my heroin fix, I suddenly felt dizzy. My mouth felt dry and parched. My tongue started swelling. I felt the world spinning and suddenly it was pitch black.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself strapped to a hospital bed. My parents were beside my bed, their eyes swollen with tears. All I could say was “I’m sorry Mum and Dad.” My parents then told me that I had fainted and had almost slipped into a coma because of drug overdose. I was shocked. I never knew drugs could be so dangerous! I also found out that once I had recovered, I would have to go to a drug rehabilitation centre.

It was a horrible experience there. I was put into a room, and no matter how much I cried out or screamed, I was not allowed to take even a sniff of heroin. I begged to no avail. The withdrawal symptoms were so bad that I found myself vomiting repeatedly and breaking out in cold sweat. It seemed like endless suffering. Like a tunnel with no sign of light at the end of it. However, as days went by, things did get better. I remember the day when I made it through one whole night without vomiting. That morning, I felt so much better. It was as if I felt a new lease of life surging through me.

A few months later, I was released from the drug rehabilitation centre. My parents were proud of me. I promised to work hard and never to go near drugs again.

As the memories flooded, I was suddenly woken from my reverie by applause. It was my turn to go up on the stage to receive my scholarship. My heart swelled with pride and joy, as I looked into the audience to see my parents’ beaming faces.



Indeed, drugs had once ruled my life. But now I realise that I am the master of my own destiny. I am my own hero!

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 12

Title: Drugs Are Not the Solution

Benjamin Aw Ka An
Tao Nan School, 5H

Daniel came from an affluent family. He had all the material comforts a boy would want: computer games, game consoles and plenty of pocket money. But he lacked love and attention from his busy parents. He felt lonely. Whenever he felt depressed or stressed, he would cycle to the beach to unwind.

One day, while Daniel was resting at a shelter along the beach, he befriended a teenager from a neighbouring school. Paul seemed to be an interesting and understanding friend. Daniel was glad that they shared the same hobbies. Over time, as their friendship deepened, Daniel began to share with Paul about his loneliness and stresses in life.



“Don’t worry, I have something that can help you forget about your pain and make you happy. Want to try it?” Paul offered him one day. On his right palm was a pink-coloured pill. Daniel thought it looked harmless enough, and since his parents were not home at that time, he willingly tried the pill. Before he knew it, his heart began to palpitate very rapidly and he began to shake without any control over his body. With perspiration streaming down his face he felt nauseated, but also surprisingly happy, tranquil and high. When the effect of the pill wore off, he crashed into gloom and confusion. He was exhausted and fell asleep.

When Daniel awoke the next day, he recalled and liked the way he felt the day before. He went in search of more pills from Paul. Soon, Daniel was addicted to the pills—Ecstasy. With an easy source of money and a constant supply from Paul, he had no problems buying Ecstasy pills. However, Daniel’s health began to suffer. As his addiction grew stronger, he became thinner and his moods irregular. Often, he would feel irritable, anxious and extremely fearful. His memory deteriorated and he always had a dazed look on his face. His school grades started to fall. But he just could not stop his addiction.

Daniel would have continued with his downward spiral if not for his alert and caring teacher. Mrs. Lim, his form teacher, had noticed changes in Daniel’s behaviour and school work. She suspected that Daniel was abusing drugs and promptly notified his parents. Daniel’s parents were shocked beyond words when they searched and found a packet of Ecstasy pills in his room. Although it broke their heart, they knew Daniel needed help. The police were informed and Daniel was subsequently arrested by narcotics officers and sent to a drug rehabilitation centre.



Two years on, Daniel has finally kicked his drug habit. He realised his folly, the consequences of taking drugs and how drugs almost destroyed his life.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 11

Dawn Oh Ruini
Ai Tong Primary School, 6B

My parents and teachers have always warned me about the consequences of taking drugs, but not once have I ever taken heed or paid even the slightest bit of attention to them. I was just a lonely high-schooler trudging down the dark alleys that day, when a gang of college students confronted me. They had yellowish teeth and glazed eyes. The thing I found most revolting about them was their aloof look and nasty, torn clothing that smelled terrible. I frowned when they were caught in a fit of uncontrollable coughing. The nauseating air was laid thick with smoke and I could feel it plaguing my sensitive lungs. Choking, I scoffed at them, a tough look etched onto my features—an automatic response to intimidating people that was developed after years of being bullied.

“What do you guys want?” I demanded, determined to force them to back off. However, a teenage boy with long, matted black hair simply smiled and stepped up to me. He extended a palm and I looked down, confidence leaking away rapidly, only to find a small transparent bottle filled with mild, yellow-coloured pills. At first, I was filled with confusion. What could they possibly be expecting from me?

A rough, raspy voice answered the unspoken. My eyes widened in shock. Words immediately flooded my already stressed mind and uncertain thoughts whirled through my head. Drugs, he had said. Drugs…

I was enticed. My father’s words of advice kept ringing in my ears. I had promised never to accept drugs. I shivered. I honestly did not know what to do. In the blink of an eye, before I could think rationally about what had happened, the boy holding the bottle of drugs dumped it into my hands and bolted away. The rest of his gang followed suit, their amused laughter echoing throughout the passage behind them.

I took a deep breath and tucked the tiny bottle into my back pocket. Thinking back, I decided to return there the next day and fling the drug pellets back at those freak boys. I nodded my head in agreement to my own plan as an action of reassurance, and strolled back home.

When I reached my house, I extracted the bottle of drug pills from my pocket and stored it in a little toy chest. I locked it tight and put it in my cupboard drawer, carefully obscuring it from view with piles of documents. During the rest of the day, I felt as though I was drawn towards the drugs. The temptation was great, the urges hard to bear. Finally, I gave up and took the bottle of drugs back out. What harm could just one pellet do?

As I look back upon my actions, I feel ashamed. I had screwed open the bottle and popped a drug pill into my mouth. The effect was instantaneous. I felt as though I could conquer the world as I flew over fluffy white clouds. But that was not meant to be. In just a mere twenty minutes, I was plunged into a world of darkness and misery.

Soon after, I went through a systematic withdrawal from social life. I often locked myself up in my room, going through rounds of hallucinations as I continued to swallow illegal drugs. My conscious mind told me firmly that taking drugs was wrong, but I kept doing it. I did not know why, and was infuriated with myself. The worst thing was, my parents had no idea about what was happening to me.

One fateful night, while I was lying awake in bed, too stricken with fear to fall asleep, I heard some people press the doorbell. My ears picked up the light thumps of my father’s night shoes as he shuffled to the door. There was a gasp of shock as the strangers and Dad talked in muffled voices. Another set of noises alerted me to my mother as she went to join my father.

I did not pay them much attention. At least, until they came barging into my room. A man dressed in a crisp, smart uniform stormed over to me and dragged me out of bed unceremoniously.



Only then did I notice the gleaming tears on my mother and father’s pink cheeks as they flowed freely from their puffy red eyes. Dread filled me as my scrawny form was hauled out of the door, away from my home and into a van.

I soon learned that the strangers who took me away were narcotics officers. They had arrested me for taking drugs. My symptoms must have been showing drastically for them to have discovered my deadly secret.

Within a few weeks, I was sent to a rehabilitation centre. The centre was filled with many different people, and for once in a long time, I felt curious and ultimately fascinated by the many activities they conducted to turn people away from drugs. There were games and courses like carpentry for training drug addicts to be able to have some skills for earning money when they left the centre. I was excited and joined in with the other teens voluntarily, elated at the chance to make some friends once again.

However, there was a major setback for me. Being addicted to drugs, I could not stand not taking them. After each passing day, I became more and more irritable and routinely caught serious illnesses. The people rehabilitating me could not help but wonder whether I would make it. The extended periods of time without having drugs slowly destroyed my personality, and I grew into someone people were frightened of, and yet despised.

My parents visited me one afternoon. Mother, being emotionally unstable since I left the house, dissolved into tears the moment she saw me. That gesture of her love, worry and concern for me snapped me out of my cravings for drugs, as nothing else had. Looking into their care-filled eyes, I vowed to overcome drugs. My mother sobbed into my father’s shoulder, and I spared them a parting glance before heading back to my activities and rehabilitation courses.

The urges for drugs haunted me every day, but I did not succumb to them. I just gritted my teeth against the temptations and sprinted forward, away from it all. I focused on my training and rebuilt my mental stability. Listening to and agreeing with an adviser of the centre, I tried to be nicer to others, to be less impatient and to control by boiling temper. Gradually, my efforts took effect. I no longer had to suffer the nightmares and other lingering effects of drugs. Even my physique had improved by a large margin.

The other teens at the rehabilitation centre began to accept me into their group when they realised how I tried to change. I worked beside them, encouraging them to reach for their dreams and give up the life of a hopeless drug addict. I began to get through to them and was given the credit for helping a certain few achieve the goal of surpassing drugs.

My records in the centre were top grade, and I was released in just a few months as opposed to a few years. I felt overwhelming pride that day, and I still remember the warm embrace my parents gave me. They felt proud of me too, despite my past mistakes.

Presently, I am working as a rehabilitation specialist. I had realised my passion for giving others a helping hand. I always visit my aged parents even though I already have an apartment of my own. It is my way of saying thank you for their care and concern for me when I was younger and less mature.



So as to protect my strong beliefs, and for the sake of my parents, I swore to never, ever indulge in drugs again.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 10

Danyel Ong Wei
Temasek Primary School

“Hi Heather!” I called out, smiling broadly. “Hey!” Heather grinned back, running towards me. Heather had been my best friend since primary one. She had long, jet-black hair and hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief. We often went over to each other’s house on weekends for sleepovers. We would give each other new hairstyles and talk about what happened during school that week. It was always very fun. I wondered why she looked so excited. Maybe she was planning another sleepover. “Come and meet my new friends!” she said excitedly, pulling me towards nearby trees where two tall girls stood.

“Cheryl, this is Sherry”, Heather introduced, gesturing towards a girl with short, black hair with streaks of brown. “And this is Kate”, she said, nodding in the other girl’s direction. “Hello”, Sherry said coldly. Kate just dipped her head in my direction.



Then Sherry produced two tiny pink pills from her pocket. My mouth suddenly went dry. “What’s that?” I croaked nervously. Kate looked at me. “That’s Ecstasy”, Kate replied coolly.

“Ecstasy!” I gasped. “I’ve tried it before. It’s really fun”, Sherry said, turning towards Heather and holding out the pill. “Try it.” “No, Heather! Don’t!” I cried out. But it was too late. Heather had already swallowed the tiny pink pill.

Soon, Heather began to complain of a severe headache and that she could not see. “I… can’t see properly!” she cried, clutching at her head. “And my head…” Then her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body contorted into a seizure. I stared at her, horrified! Then I sprinted off to get help.

“Heather”, I whispered, crying softly. I stared at Heather, lying in a hospital bed, pale and motionless. Her hazel eyes stared out, vacant and dull. “Heather”, I whispered again. “Goodbye, Heather.”



Saying goodbye to Heather was the most devastating moment in my life. I looked at her for the last time, then slowly walked out of the door.

A few weeks later, I stumbled upon a forgotten picture of Heather, jumping up and down on her bed, her big smile, hair flying, arms and legs flailing, so alive—and my heart broke anew. Truly, the price for taking drugs is too high to pay…

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 9

Nuha Amani Bte Misbahuddin
Madrasah Al-Irsyad Al-Islamiah

Problem Solver

The price for taking drugs is too high to pay. Until this very day, Sharon still regretted her past actions. Bedridden, she closed her eyes and recalled how she ended up in this state.

“How much did you get?” asked Sharon’s mother, Mrs. Teo, as soon as Sharon stepped inside the house after school. Sharon glared at her mother before walking quickly to her room. She locked her door and let herself fall onto her bed.

School had been bad, and her Mid-Year Examination grades were not helping. “Your grades have dropped far too low. I’m afraid we’ll have to transfer you to the Normal Technical Class.” The voice of Mr. Fang, her form teacher, echoed in her head. Sharon used to be active in her studies, but she often got distracted by her parents’ recent divorce and pressure at school had stressed her out. Besides, she loved blogging. Sharon would sit in front of the computer, typing with her eyes glued to the computer screen as if her life depended on it!

The next day, Sharon was transferred to the Normal Technical Class. She felt humiliated to have dropped so low. She broke the news to her mother and as expected, she did not take it very well. Mrs. Teo had always blamed it on Sharon’s endless blogging. Sometimes Sharon got so sick of it that she would secretly cut herself. During those days, only blogging would release her tension; she had no friends anyway.

During recess, Sharon was sitting alone at a table, staring at her chicken rice while thinking about the numerous problems in her life when a group of girls from her new class approached her.

“Hi, I’m Nikki”, one of the girls introduced herself. “This is Lynn, Wei Qian, Suzie and Anne”, Nikki said, introducing her friends.

“Listen, we know you’re new and you don’t quite fit in, so maybe you could hang out with us”, she continued.

“We’re going clubbing tonight at eight. So maybe it would be cool if you joined us”, she invited. Nikki reached across to put a small piece of paper in Sharon’s hands.

“Just call me once you decide, okay?” she said, before walking off with the rest of the group.

That night, Sharon was on the dance floor enjoying herself. She had agreed to hang out with her new friends at a nightclub.



Mr. and Mrs. Teo had been yelling at each other over the phone, so she had sneaked out after calling Nikki with the number on the small piece of paper given to her earlier. She had to lie to the bodyguard outside about being 21 when she was just 17, as that meant she was underage. But now it did not matter as she was having the time of her life!

“Thanks so much for inviting me, guys”, Sharon said as she sat down together with Nikki, Lynn, Wei Qian, Suzie and Anne. “What a great way to get away with the tension at home!” she cried. The five of them broke into laughter. Nikki asked Sharon if she had any problems. Sharon told her friends everything as they seemed to be concerned. Suddenly Nikki gave Sharon a small Ziploc bag that contained two pills.

“What’s this?” Sharon asked, shocked.

“This will solve all your problems”, Nikki answered, coolly.

“But, uh…” Sharon started to stammer.

“Don’t worry”, Suzie interrupted, “it’s nothing. Trust us, go on…”

Sharon looked at her other friends and saw them stifling giggles and whispering to each other.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Anne teased.

“Don’t be a chicken!” added Wei Qian.

Not wanting to be a “chicken”, Sharon popped the two pills, which were actually drugs, into her mouth, her heart racing madly. Nikki and her friends cheered and applauded. Then suddenly she threw all of her fear away and felt proud of herself. After all, the drugs did leave a “good sensation”.

The following week, poor Sharon was already on her third packet of Ecstasy tablets. Yes, it made her feel giddy at times, but she also felt the “good sensation” and tingly “kick”. Plus, she was also a member of Nikki’s gang. For once she felt like somebody. Her new friends were so nice to her that she felt like she fit in perfectly. By now, Mrs Teo was becoming seriously worried, but Sharon did not even bother to think about her family, or anything else for that matter.

One evening, Sharon got another packet from Nikki. She knew that she was addicted, but she could not help it. Every time Sharon felt like she should not be taking drugs, she would think of all her problems: her parents’ divorce, her bad grades, and all the other pressure. Then she would feel the need to take the pills. It was her “problem solver”, after all. This would make her cry.

After swallowing the Ecstasy pills, Sharon started to feel high. She felt a sudden urge to take the elevator to the highest level and go up to the roof, so out of highness, she did. Sharon felt really giddy and started to swagger. Suddenly, she tripped over a piece of rubble and her feet brushed against the edge of the building. She could feel the wind rush through her body as she was in mid-air, shutting her eyes tight.



“Crash!” She could not feel anything anymore…

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 8

Yew Kai Ning, Sophia
Rosyth School

A truck wheeled into the driveway, sputtering and sighing. It was an old Toyota model, riddled with various scratches and patches of rust. A pale adolescent stumbled out of it. His cheeks were sunken and premature lines spanned his thin face. His dark eye rings looked like bruises in contrast with his colourless face. However, he was giggling as he stumbled unsteadily out of the van. His companion, a burly man with the same sunken cheeks and dark eye rings, soon followed his footsteps out. They carried with them several small sacks that seemed to be foodstuff to be consumed. The burly man winked at the driver of the truck, who promptly drove away.

The men walked a little and soon arrived at a dilapidated old hut painted in an unhealthy tinge of green. It was deadly quiet, but they knew that there would be at least a dozen people in there, waiting silently for the imminent arrival of their sworn brothers. They walked up to the door. The effort of lugging the heavy sacks had left the gaunt adolescent drained of energy, but no colour had come to his cheeks. The burly man glared with heavy contempt at his accomplice, and knocked the secret code on the door. Two knocks soft, one loud. Knock, knock, KNOCK.

The door creaked open, and there stood an unsightly man in his early forties. His bare torso, with weak shoulders and a hairy chest, was intricately adorned with assorted tattoos. He had aged far beyond his years. A toothless grin cracked his face into a mass of wrinkles as he savoured the sight of his youthful helpers in drug abuse.



A great hubbub filled the room as eager shouts welcomed them in. They walked into the room, opening their bags and handing out attractive-looking tablets that came in a wide variety of colours. It was the drug named Ecstasy, also known as MDMA, Playboy, Snow White, Pink or XTC. The boss slapped the teenager on the back and said, “You’ve done well again, Oreo!”

The others, ages ranging from early teens to twenty-odds, gathered around, praising the burly man and Oreo. Smiling, Oreo popped the pills, feeling the familiar effects of uncontrollable shaking and unmatched physical prowess overwhelm him. His heartbeat accelerated until it was nearly unbearable. Music blared as they switched on the radio to accompany their shivering, and they started showing off their strength to each other. Oreo’s face was stretched in a constant smile as his body swayed to the music. He did not turn his mind fully to the problems of where he was to go after this party. Home? Perhaps. Surely his elderly mother would not notice that he was on drugs. This all vanished as he lost himself in the party. He belonged here, and no where else…

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Oreo stumbled out of the hut, aching with thirst as well as feeling dazed and irritable. His house was not far, and once there he could indulge himself with water. He felt dizzy, but it was not be because he had not eaten in quite a few days. Oreo vomited on the ground before continuing on his desperate way. He hardly noticed as his surroundings changed, tall skyscrapers filling the skies, HDB buildings filling all the space.

Oreo lumbered into the lift. It lifted him into a narrow corridor; his home was one of those highly subsidised HDB rental flats meant for people with low incomes. It was all Oreo’s mother could afford, as his father had passed away, leaving her with a bad leg and an inability to get a job even as a cleaner. Oreo had no money to go to school, so he had fallen into bad company. He threw open the door, for it was never locked, and walked straight to the kitchen. He grabbed the water jug and poured all the water down his throat. His elderly mother limped into the kitchen and started gabbling away in a dialect. Oreo did not listen, merely grunting as he drowned himself in the two-litre jug of water. He drank unceasingly, feeling his stomach growl in protest. His body seemed to be warring, his brain telling him to drink, and his stomach grumbling and rumbling in hesitant protest. Finally, all his systems shut down and he tottered unsteadily before dropping heavily on the ground. His mother stood over him, shouting in a distraught voice, “Ah boy! Ah boy! Ah boy! …”



She ran out, squawking like an upset chicken. The neighbours soon stepped out of their flats to survey the pandemonium. Oreo’s mother’s next-door neighbour, Ling Chee, was a great help, as she swiftly dialled the police hotline.

The men in blue soon arrived at the scene, as well as the ambulance. They conducted an investigation and figured out that Oreo had been on drugs. However, it was too late for him. His heart had stopped beating. As his mother was told the truth, she wept and said, “He never told me where he went every day. Now I’m all alone!”

The price for taking drugs is too high to pay…

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 7

Naomi Chua
Concord Primary School

The Big Mistake

Judy came from a wealthy family and she had everything she wanted. People always called her “the princess”. Though her parents pampered her with a lot of money and games, Judy told me that she had never once felt truly loved by her parents. I had no idea what she was always doing at home. Even though she was my best friend, she did not spend much time with me.

On Sunday evening, while we were chatting on MSN, Judy told me that she chatted with a guy who promised her something wonderful.



I pestered her to tell me, but she just coldly turned me off by saying it was a big secret. I was shocked; all I could do was to advise her to be careful not to enter into uncharted territories. Without saying a word of thanks, she abruptly logged off, leaving me in daze.

On Monday, Judy did not turn up in school. Still offended by what happened the day before, I did not bother to call. One week came and went, and Judy still did not come to school. Finally, I decided to go to her house and visit her. “Ding dong! Ding dong!” No one came to the door to answer the incessant ringing of the bell. Dejected, I slowly walked away.

It was a typical school day, but I did not know that I was going to get the greatest shock of my life. Judy reached school late, and when she arrived her blouse and skirt were crumpled, her hair was unkempt and dark rings shone under her eyes. This was not the Judy I knew. Stupefied, I croaked, “Judy, what happened to you? How did you…” All of a sudden, she cut me off, “Look here miss goody two shoes, I have no time to talk and this is none of your business.” Stunned, I sat rooted to my chair. The day dragged on with me feeling more and more worried for Judy. I searched my head for an idea to get Judy to tell me what was happening. At the end of the day, I sank back onto my chair, feeling more exhausted than ever. At night, I had no appetite to eat the sumptuous dinner that my mum prepared. With a heavy heart and a throbbing headache, I hit the sack.

The next morning, I woke up feeling depressed. What was I supposed to do? Finally I decided to trail her home. I could not wait for school to finish. When the bell rang, I quickly stuffed my things into my bag. Like the police on a criminal’s trail, I followed Judy. Judy unexpectedly turned into a deserted alley. I quickly hid behind a large dustbin when she stopped. My heart jumped when I heard muffled footsteps approaching. To my horror, I saw Judy taking out some money to exchange for some colourful pills. Straightaway, I recognised it as ecstasy. After the drug dealer had left, I boldly stood up from my hiding place and confronted Judy. Judy was taken aback. Dumbfounded, she questioned, “What are you doing here?” Undaunted by her question, I replied, “Maybe you should be the one telling me why you are here.” I fired a number of questions at her about why she was abusing drugs and her withdrawal symptoms.

Judy was stubborn and she did not want to tell me anything, no matter how I coaxed and persuaded her. All of a sudden, Judy turned around and sped down to another smaller lane. I stood in the lonely alley alone. The sense of hopelessness and helplessness surfaced again. Faced with no other choice, I called the narcotics officers. The officers found Judy lying face-down on the floor in her room.



I could not believe my ears when I heard that Judy died from a drug overdose. I broke down and cried. Judy’s parents were shocked. I will never ever forget this incident. The price for taking drugs is too high to pay. Know their dangers and start spreading the message today.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 6

Title: My Faustian Pact

Wilson Wu Fan
Ai Tong School, 5A

“You’ve been tested positive…” Those words from the doctor weighed down like an anchor. My heart sank, body iced and mind blanked in an instant. Now that I recall, the first image to enter my mind after regaining a semblance of composure was a dying AIDS1 victim, surrounded by his family members, in an advertisement from United Colours of Benetton. I’m now a carrier of the HIV2 virus.

About a year ago, I still had a future. Leading to its destruction, ironically, was an opportunity that my friends and I thought was golden. “Boys, we’ve got a gig!” exclaimed Steve. He was the lead vocalist of The Cream, a nascent band that featured his younger brother, Jacob, as the percussionist; Johnny, our childhood friend, as the bass guitarist; and me, the lead guitarist. Lady Luck must be smiling down, all of us thought, when Steve broke the news that we had been selected to perform at the annual Rock Festival.

The event was an unexpected success. We were buoyed by the cheers and applause from the electrified crowd. What surprised us even more were the flattering comments from Matthew, an influential composer in the region. “It was a fantastic performance. I didn’t have the impression that you guys were a bunch of rookies,” he remarked. Before parting, we were invited to a party at his house. Steve eagerly agreed on our behalf. “We need connections,” he told us later.



An unmistakable air of hedonism permeated the sprawling apartment. The owner had no lack of any material comfort that I could think of. Every piece of furniture, decoration and entertainment device was synonymous with luxury. It seemed that we had entered a different world. Except for us, the guests at Matthew’s party were all dressed in designer outfits. They were dancing to techno music while we stood at a corner sipping cocktails served by waiters who treated us condescendingly.

Jacob, feeling bored and uneasy, said, “There are only high society people here. This is not a place for us.” Just when we were deliberating whether to leave, the host came up to us. “Hey, are you guys comfortable?” Matthew asked. “Let me be a gracious host,” he continued without waiting for a reply. “You can ease yourselves into the party.” Matthew then took Steve’s hand, placed a packet of pink pills on his palm and closed the fingers to make a fist before letting go. I saw a smirk on the composer’s lips. His penetrating eyeballs gave each of us a glance. He walked away after pretending to pop something into his mouth. The gesture was easily understood.



“We’re not going to touch that stuff!” Jacob protested as soon as the host was out of sight. I nodded in agreement. “Are you afraid of ending up like Kurt Cobain?” Steve snapped. “Don’t forget the premature deaths of Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison!” Jacob retorted, citing the names of iconic rock personalities who had their lives terminated by drugs. The two brothers were embroiled in a heated exchange of words until Johnny interrupted, “Jacob, I know that we should stay clean, but your brother is right. We need the performances, songs and tips that Matthew can offer to give us the success that our talents deserve.” There was no denying that Matthew could propel our musical ambition. Steve coaxed. Johnny cajoled. By rejecting the drugs, they believed we would not get another opportunity to seek the help of Matthew. In the end, we made a dual pact. We agreed to rid our lives of drugs once we achieved our objectives and to prevent each other from getting into a vicious cycle of addiction.

It turned out to be a Faustian pact. Our acceptance of drugs from Matthew brought us into his circle of influence. He used his clout to help the band gain publicity through various platforms, and much sooner than expected, a proposal was tabled for us to cut our very first album. In the meantime, we ventured deeper and deeper into the wasteland of drugs. The dark side of Matthew was soon revealed to us. Behind his façade as a respected composer, he was the leader of a drug syndicate. We were among his clientele. The few attempts made to wean ourselves from drugs were blocked by withdrawal symptoms that brought absolute misery. It was too difficult to exchange glamour and rewards for suffering. In the spiralling freefall, we graduated from “Ecstasy” pills to a smorgasbord of cocaine, heroin and marijuana. We also joined intravenous drug users at rave parties, injecting our bodies with illegal substances. Needles were shared freely in a fraternity of musicians.

A drug raid abruptly ended our life of decadence. Narcotics officers operating undercover arrested us in a discotheque. Memories of the incident are vague. I was high and dazed when the law caught up with me. It was in police custody that I realized the folly of my actions. However, I did not expect the consequences to be more severe than imprisonment and caning. Three days after a mandatory blood specimen test, I was told of my infection with the deadly HIV virus. It was tantamount to pronouncing the death sentence on me. The same fate fell on Steve. We must have been infected through needles used by other drug abusers.

Almost two months have since elapsed. During this period, I experienced the agony of freeing my body from narcotic dependence. Many times during the day, in a silent lucidity, I wished regretfully that time could be reversed. The nights were interspersed with intense moments of anguish. Thoughts of suicide crossed my mind. The haunting emotional guilt and pain are difficult to exorcise. Yet, I have derived from them the strength to live on. In the drug rehabilitation centre where I am now, many former addicts have shared their stories with me. All the accounts invariably end with a desire to make restitution to those who have been hurt. I cannot cause more sorrows to my parents. Rather than choosing a road to perdition, I have decided to complete my remaining journey with dignity. Obstacles will arise along the way, but I am prepared to face them. Indeed, the price for taking drugs is too high to pay and they must be shunned without hesitation.

1AIDS is the acronym for Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome
2HIV stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 5

Chay Jia Min Elaine
Princess Elizabeth Primary School, P6G

“Why am I always rubbish at everything?” I grumbled dispiritedly as I left the school hall. A big, red “F” was hastily scrawled at the top of my mathematics examination paper. Everywhere I glanced, there were always throngs of happy and delighted fellow schoolmates, laughing in merriment at their marks. My spirits sank even lower as I saw my arch enemy, James, punch the air in delight. I scowled darkly at him. “Stupid moron. Teacher’s pet”, I mumbled unhappily.

I sighed as I meandered around the neighbourhood, unwilling to go home to a nagging mother. The sun sank below the horizon, leaving a ruby-red glow. I banged into a wall and swore loudly, “I hate this world!” I shouted savagely, aiming a kick at a nearby rubbish bin .



“Hey, watch it kid!” a rough voice shouted at me. I jumped about a foot in the air, staring wildly around.

A teenager of about fifteen pushed the rubbish bin aside and stood up. He was considerably taller than me, though it might be because of his handsomely spiked hair. He grinned roguishly at me. “Alex”, he said a little drunkenly, offering his hand to me. Under normal circumstances, I would have run for it, but, feeling a little reckless, I gripped his hand tightly and shook it.

“That’s right, kid”, he smiled. “Feeling down, upset?” he asked. I nodded and before I knew it, I poured out all my hardships and troubles to an unknown stranger. To my utmost indignation, he chuckled. “What’s so funny?” I asked defensively. He shook his head and pressed a small packet into my hands. “Trust me, it will help you”, Alex said convincingly. I glanced down at the little packet and almost dropped it. “Uh, Alex?” I asked uncertainly. “Is it drugs?” After a few minutes I realised that I had been mumbling to myself. Alex had disappeared.

“Where have you been, Ryan?” my mother’s angry cry greeted me as I pushed open the door. I mumbled something indistinct and glared at my ever-perfect younger sister reading a book. I went up to my room and slammed the door. Mere seconds later, my mother followed suit. To make matters worse, she fished out my examination paper and yelled at me till I thought my ear drums would never be the same again. After screaming herself hoarse, my mother left the room in floods of tears.

I glared at her retreating back. “Honestly, does she really think I want those marks?” I muttered angrily, venting my feelings on a chair. Wallowing in self-pity, I tore the packet of drugs open and popped a white pill into my mouth. All at once, I began to experience many different emotions. The present was turning into a dream; I was soaring to greater heights …

Ever since that first fateful pill, I began to spend my pocket money and savings lavishly on drugs from Alex. I made weekly trips to that little alley to satisfy my urge for drugs. My mind was slowly becoming fuzzy and mundane. I paid the barest minimum of attention to my teacher, Mrs. Lee, and on that fateful day, one of her words penetrated my foggy mind: “Examination”. It passed in a swirling white haze and all I could remember was leaving that examination hall and climbing the railings outside.

“Ryan!” Mrs. Lee yelled. “What do you think you are doing?” I paused in the act of jumping and turned vaguely. I saw James tugging violently at my legs. Next thing that I could remember, I was lying in the sick bay, staring at the stern face of a drug rehabilitation officer. I moaned subconsciously. “Ryan”, Mrs. Lee said, “you have to go to the Drug Rehabilitation Centre.” No doubt she had made the call.

The next few weeks passed in terrible torture for me. I might have died for all I knew. I was screaming for Alex, for drugs. I screeched and kicked in the agony of not having them. I did not want to live anymore. I vomited and moaned uncontrollably. I writhed like a snake; my insides were on fire.

---

It was a clear and windy day. Puffy magnolia-white clouds drifted across the azure blue sky. The great iron gates of the Drug Rehabilitation Centre opened and I stepped out. I took in great gulps of fresh air. It definitely felt good to be out of there. I was a completely changed person, with an entirely new attitude towards life. I heard a strangled cry. “Ryan!”

My sister came hurtling out of nowhere and flung her arms around me. She buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably.



It was then that I realised what family ties meant. I felt so sorry for my family, and never more ashamed of myself. “Don’t cry”, I muttered awkwardly, patting her on her back.

There and then, from the moment I stepped out of the Centre, I resolved to take on an active role in anti-drugs campaigns. Now, I am known throughout my neighbourhood as an anti-drug ambassador. Best of all, when I next received my examination paper, there as an “A*” at the top.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 4

Basanth Sadasivan
Anglo-Chinese School (Primary)

Dear Mom,

I am writing this letter from my prison cell at the Drug Rehabilitation Centre. It has been two weeks since I last saw you briefly at the police station. I can still remember your swollen eyes with dark-ringed circles around them and those wrinkles etched deeply across your forehead. You were pleading with the policemen to let me go as I was being led away in handcuffs. It was so heart wrenching to see you in such a state and I am truly sorry for all the trouble I have caused. If some of the words in this letter are smudged, it is probably from the tears that stream down my cheeks as I am writing.



Now that I have had lots of time to reflect, I want to tell you how I ended up in the situation I am in now.



It all started two years ago when Dad suddenly died in that tragic car accident. I was only seventeen and I still remember arguing with him as he drove me to school that morning. When I got out of the car, I deliberately did not say goodbye because I wanted to show that I was angry with him for nagging at me about how I was underperforming in my studies. It was so early in the morning and I must admit that I was in a cranky mood myself. I got out and slammed the door in disgust—something that I gravely regret and am deeply ashamed of. I have wondered on numerous occasions whether he was so terribly upset with me at the time that his mind was preoccupied with these thoughts and whether that caused him to hit head-on against that tree. I cannot even explain to you the huge amount of guilt I have been carrying with me all this time. When you called me later that morning to let me know about the tragedy I was in a state of shock.

From that day onwards, I have been sad, full of guilt and extremely depressed, though I did not want to burden you with my problems. You had so many other things to think about at the time, with the immediate task of funeral arrangements and financial matters. Perhaps it was just plain cowardice playing up as an excuse for my act, Mom, because I could have still confided in you when everything was settled—after all, it has been two years since the accident. I really don’t know why instead I chose to confide in my so-called “best friend”, Joel, who I thought had all the answers to my problems. He was always there for me and would listen and advise me with his thoughts. You would remember having met Joel a couple of times at our house when he used to come around asking me out for a movie or just to hang around to have a chat.

Joel came from a dysfunctional home—his parents were divorced and he lived with his uncle in a two-room flat on Old Airport Road. His uncle converted the flat into a gambling den and all sorts of people used to be in his house all the time. Joel was my trusted confidant and gave me support through the darkest days of my life immediately after Dad’s death. As you know, we were in lots of financial difficulties at that time and it was Joel who helped me get a part-time job in the McDonald’s outlet at Far East Plaza where he was also working. As our shifts ended at the same time every night, Joel and I spent long hours together after work as we walked to the MRT station to board our respective trains.

Every month, on our pay day, Joel and I would go out and celebrate. We would paint the town red by patronising pubs and discotheques, having a whale of a time. As I was too young to consume alcohol, Joel would order it for me. He also taught me to smoke my first cigarette. Going out with Joel was a way for me to escape from all my worries. I was late in handing up my school assignments and flopped a couple of my tests. My grades were dropping fast and I would lock myself in my room all the time for fear that you might detect alcohol or nicotine in my breath.

Almost three months ago as we were on our way to a discotheque, Joel told me that I looked rather depressed. Before I could say anything, he took out a pill from the breast pocket of his shirt and offered it to me. On the pill was embossed the word “Adam”. Joel said that it would help to elevate my mood. He said that one of his uncle’s friends gave it to him and that from his experience it would bring instant happiness. Trusting my best friend, I consumed the tablet without realising that it was actually Ecstasy. That was the beginning of my descent into a dark and bottomless pit.

Ecstasy had an immediate effect on me. I felt self-confident and full of energy. I was dancing wildly and without any pause. There was a certain closeness with others and a desire to touch people around me. I actually felt “good”, but it was temporary and it completely betrayed what was to happen afterwards.

When I reached home that night, I was completely exhausted and started throwing up violently. My head hurt badly and I felt dizzy with nausea. For the next three days, I was in bed feeling confused and restless with hallucinations and bad dreams. Remember that letter I asked you to write to my form teacher to say that I was having a fever? That was the time I was suffering from the after-effects of Ecstasy.

I craved for more Ecstasy, for without it I felt cold and trembled continuously. There was an extreme sadness lingering in me. Joel told me that he would get me some, but it would cost about eight dollars a pill. I bit the bullet and paid him the money because I wanted to feel good—I didn’t care about the after-effects. I could not concentrate on my studies any more and I failed my midterm tests. I know you were mad at me when my class teacher called you up to complain about me, and I know that I promised to study harder. The truth is that I just could not as Ecstasy had taken over my life.

And then it all happened in a flash. One moment I was sitting in the pub with Joel, and the next moment the men in blue walked in and took us away. They were acting on a tip-off. We were brought to the police station for a urine test, which confirmed that we had both consumed Ecstasy. They forced us to strip and searched us thoroughly. Joel had three tablets of Ecstasy in his pocket at that time. I was charged with drug consumption, while Joel was charged with drug trafficking as well.

Mom, I hope you are being well taken care of at the Institute of Mental Health. I heard that you were transferred from the acute ward to the rehabilitation ward and that you were making progress with the counselling sessions. Please take all your medicines and recover quickly. I hope you will be discharged soon and can come and visit me. I heard that visitors are allowed to visit the inmates on Christmas Day. Let’s make this a special Christmas and the beginning of a new phase in our lives.

Mom, I am so sorry to have let you down. I really look forward to hugging you after my release from here.

Your loving son,
Mark

P.S. I have learnt my lesson—the price for taking drugs is too high to pay.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 3

Title: Helping a Friend in Need

Callie Hoon
Tao Nan School, 6K

Jamie used to top the class and cohort in everything from math to athletics. She was an all-rounder, consistently the first to go up on stage to receive her five hundred dollar cash prize during the year-end prize presentation ceremony. Her photographs frequently appeared in the school newsletter: “Jamie Tan clinches gold for school, Primary 6 girl bags gold in athletics”. Many of my schoolmates kept crowding around her, trying to get her to befriend them. But I, in a sense, was fortunate—I was her best friend. I had always treasured that fact until recently…



Just after term break, Jamie had bloodshot eyes and dry lips. I thought that she might have had a late night. But, during class, I noticed that she was not paying attention and was fiddling with her stationery, whereas she usually took meticulous notes. Other unusual behaviour was also displayed—failing her math exam, having sloppy handwriting on her worksheets and even having occasional anxiety attacks. I could hear the students speculating among themselves: “Oh? Jamie? That’s nothing. Just a case of being over-stressed.” I did not think so. The hardworking, friendly Jamie had transformed into a girl I did not know. Shunning me when I attempted to hold a conversation with her—that was not her! Angry and suspicious, I decided to search the internet for causes of those problems. It dawned on me that she could perhaps be on drugs, but I could not be certain.

The next day before school started, I sought her out. Just when I was about to leave the toilet, Jamie stumbled over to me and murmured, “I’m going to have Mary Jane today. Wanna join me?” Just as I was about to reply in the affirmative, the phrase “Mary Jane” instantly aroused my suspicions. Something clicked in my mind. It all fit perfectly. Mary Jane was simply another name for marijuana! Determined to get to the bottom of this matter, I pushed her into the toilet and confronted her. It was then that I learned that she had recently befriended some friends from a vacation job at a pub. They had egged her on to try the drug because “it’s cool”. Before long she was hooked on it. Jamie was indeed abusing drugs.

Frightened and confused, I was initially at a loss on what to do. I mustered up the courage to approach our form teacher, Miss Sim, and confided my worst fears in her. Miss Sim told me, “I’ve been noticing the drastic changes in Jamie. I think we should inform her parents about the situation and decide how to deal with the matter.”



Her parents, upon learning about the situation, broke down and consented to report her drug abuse to the authorities. The narcotics officers showed up while she was in a slightly clearer state of mind and arrested her. Sadly, she gazed at her parents, “Sorry Mum and Dad, I’m sorry to disappoint you. But when I am released, I’ll never touch drugs again. Drugs only make you happy for a short while, but what comes after that is horrible.” To me she whispered, “Still friends?” I nodded.

Jamie was released two weeks ago. Up till now, she is free from drugs and is leading a happy life, topping the standard again.

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 2

Essay 2 illustrations:-

Zachary Lim
Ngee Ann Primary School

The price for taking drugs is just too high to pay

I am Rover, the Wong family’s domestic pet. My young master, Si Hua, was a jolly and caring little boy. Mr. and Mrs. Wong were very busy and travelled very frequently. As a result, Si Hua was often left at home alone with their domestic helper and me. Si Hua treated me like his little brother and shared all his secrets with me, until he made some friends whom I felt uncomfortable about.

The boys always locked themselves up in Si Hua’s room and blasted rock music. Sometimes I even smelt cigarette and liquor in his room. Si Hua hardly spent time with me anymore and I felt something was immensely wrong with this group of young teenagers.

One day, Si Hua brought home a packet of colourful pills. Immediately, I knew that they were drugs as I had seen an advertisement discouraging drugs. “Woof! Woof! Grrr! Woof!” I barked furiously in an attempt to warn him as he opened it, but alas, how could he understand my language?


A strange expression spread across his chubby face as he swallowed a pill. Heartbroken, I lay down on my side whining. My master, who was only at the tender age of thirteen, had become a drug addict.

Day after day, I would see him hiding in a corner of his room, taking drugs. He would not go to school and strangely his friends never came again. It was a heart-wrenching sight to see his cute little chubby cheek become sunken within days. He was like a walking zombie.

One day, I felt that I had to do something before he came to a point of no return. When Mr. Wong was about to leave the house for work one morning, I took the opportunity to tug at his pants, beckoning him to follow me. He was rushing to work and thought that I was just trying to play with him. He tried shaking me off, but I held on as if the pants were my life. He kicked me on my side and I yelped in pain, but I was determined to pull him to Si Hua’s room.

Finally, Mr. Wong got my cue. When he tried to open the door, it was locked. He got out the room key and looked with disbelief as he saw how cluttered the room had become. I sniffed around quickly and found some small empty plastic bags probably used for drugs and a plastic bag of glue. Mr. Wong finally smelt trouble. I could see him almost tremble. He froze for a moment before he dashed into his room.

Mrs. Wong was getting ready to leave for work too when Mr. Wong stopped her. There was a loud exchange of words and banging of things in their room. After what seemed like forever, they emerged from their room. They were obviously distraught.

They ran out of the house and I quickly tailed behind, sniffing around. I realised that they were looking for Si Hua. I trailed Si Hua’s scent to a back lane near his school… only to see him being caught by narcotic officers. I charged forward to “save” my young master and growled at the officers.

Mr. Wong came up to me to hold me down. I was confused. Did they not want to save Si Hua?

Si Hua’s mother was devastated. She wailed uncontrollably. Mr. Wong held her and wept silently too. Si Hua’s head hung low. I did not know what to do other than to stay quietly by the side.

Si Hua did not come home for a while. I heard Mr. and Mrs. Wong’s conversations and gathered that he had been admitted to the drug rehabilitation centre to help kick the addiction.

After what seemed like forever, my young master came home. He had won the battle against drugs. It had been the support and love of his parents that had helped him through this difficult time. However, he had wasted two years and was unable to go back to the secondary school. His parents cut down on their work commitment so as to give him more attention. Si Hua was very regretful for having given in to his friends’ challenge to try the drugs. It was an agonising episode for the entire family. The price for taking drugs is just too high to pay!

Illustrations for CNB (Central Narcotics Bureau, Singapore) - Essay 1

An essay for you to read. 2 illustrations per essay. 18 winning essays of an anti-drug competition, in total. Long way to go.....

Asey Koh
Ai Tong School, 6C

Her name was Tanya and she was my best friend. We had known one another since ten, and had stuck together ever since. I had always looked up to Tanya as an elder sister. She was tough, cool, and sophisticated. I was doing quite well in primary school, but when I entered my teens, I buckled under pressure, and started failing my subjects. As I was good at tennis and the star player in our school team, the principal was more lenient with me. He told me he would let me stay in school, but gave me an ultimatum for the coming semester—buck up or ship out.



I will never forget the day I discovered Tanya’s secret. It was the day after my examinations, and I was feeling very depressed. I headed to the carpark near my house, our usual rendezvous. When I found Tanya, I cried out my heart to her, all my frustration and anger. When I was done, she smiled at me and said, “Do you want to know my secret? Why I’m always so happy?” I nodded my head vigorously. Being a rebel, Tanya had been kicked out of school long before I started to have my problems. Yet she was always carefree and bouncy. I leaned closer to her eagerly, hoping she would impart some good words of wisdom, but instead, she fished out a plastic bag from her back pocket, revealing small pills, almost like medicine. A spark of suspicion caused me to gasp, “Is that a … drug?”

“No, no!” Tanya laughed. “This is called ‘yaba’, a sort of sweet. It’s new in the market.” At first, I was dumbfounded. Tanya’s source of happiness lay in … candy? A small voice at the back of my head whispered that I had nothing to lose, so when Tanya handed me a pill, I popped it into my mouth. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of pure ecstasy. I was floating over the clouds, soaring, flying! I went home happy that day, deliriously so, a packet of pills nestled in my jacket.

Within a week, I started to experience what Tanya called the “side-effects”. I was starting to feel extremely tired at school, and I had to take two pills of yaba a day just to feel better. Then came the time when I ran out of my daily supplements. The side effects hit me in full force. All at once, I was getting angry at everyone, feeling anxious for no reason, and having thoughts of suicide.

It was getting worse every day. I started to have hallucinations, and finally when I met Tanya, I asked for another packet. Tanya refused to give me any more pills. “What do you think I am doing? Running a charity? Come back with some cash!” Tanya, I found out, was in cahoots with a gang. This group of rebellious teens made money by selling the “sweets”.

By now, I had already guessed that yaba was actually a drug. However, I didn’t care. Yaba was what I lived for. It was my elixir of life. I would perish without it. So I joined Tanya. I sold yaba to anyone interested in it.



The day of judgement came when a youth around twenty approached me nervously, asking for yaba. He handed me the money, and I handed him the drugs. The young man’s nervousness fell and away, and he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I was tricked. The man was a policeman in disguise, and all he wanted was for me to confess by handing him the drugs. I was guilty. So I was sent to a girls’ home and a drug rehabilitation centre to undergo treatment.

When I was there, I was told that I was right. Yaba was an infamous drug, which had many other names. It was actually called methamphetamine. I cried then. I wept for hours, but not because of I had been caught. Those were tears of joy. I was finally free. I was free from the grip of vice that drugs had held me with. I realised that when I was experiencing the strong, passionate emotions of hate and regret, I had to escape from the truth. That was what had caused me all the pain. My own insecurities and how naïve I was.

That was three years ago. I am now an ordinary citizen with a good, stable job. I never saw Tanya again, but I hope that she has turned over a new leaf and is starting anew, like me. The price for taking drugs is too high to pay. I found that out the hard way.