Creative Writing: Late Autumn (1942)
Late Autumn, 1942
Today is one of those unusually quiet evenings, and sometimes, it’s so quiet it becomes frightening. It reminds me of a storm. At first, it sneaks up on you quietly, then the storm intensifies, rushing through cities, towns, or whatever is in its path, leaving behind devastation and desolation. That sense of desolation is what I fear the most, and that’s what it feels like now.
There have been no loud roars of planes overhead or any explosions for over a month. But I don’t mind, and for once, I welcomed the change. Even the weather is quite pleasant, crisp but after a long and hot, grueling summer, I find it alleviating.
I decide to go outside to get some fresh air. Since the war has begun, I don’t dare wander off for long …show more content…
It’s a simple swing, which is made out of woven rope that’s tossed over the branches of the tree. The rope is tied to a knot beneath the wooden plank that has a small slit on each side. Simple, yet we loved it. I still do, even though I am sixteen. I always thought it’s relaxing sitting out here and kicking my legs up to the sky.
I sit on the swing and softly swaying my body back and forth while kicking the rustling yellowish, golden leaves beneath my feet. The smells of the chimney smoke and the dry leaves that the fresh breeze scatters through the air tickle my senses. The pleasant scent reminds me of the winter approaching, as the fresh, chilly breeze washes over my skin. I memorize everything around me, maybe for the last time.
Tin, my dog, is sitting next to the tree. He is a golden - brown German Shepard, and I think he is the smartest dog in the entire world. Although, at times, he can be a handful.
Tin watches playfully as I kick the leaves up in the air. He loves dry leaves. He especially loves to dives his head into the mound of leaves and scatter it all around, which makes my father furious. But today, he just cocks his head from side to side and watches me with his bug eyes.
“Where have you been?” I pout at him, and he tucks his head into his paw.
“Did you terrorize the neighbor’s dogs and chickens again?” I hiss at
Today is one of those unusually quiet evenings, and sometimes, it’s so quiet it becomes frightening. It reminds me of a storm. At first, it sneaks up on you quietly, then the storm intensifies, rushing through cities, towns, or whatever is in its path, leaving behind devastation and desolation. That sense of desolation is what I fear the most, and that’s what it feels like now.
There have been no loud roars of planes overhead or any explosions for over a month. But I don’t mind, and for once, I welcomed the change. Even the weather is quite pleasant, crisp but after a long and hot, grueling summer, I find it alleviating.
I decide to go outside to get some fresh air. Since the war has begun, I don’t dare wander off for long …show more content…
It’s a simple swing, which is made out of woven rope that’s tossed over the branches of the tree. The rope is tied to a knot beneath the wooden plank that has a small slit on each side. Simple, yet we loved it. I still do, even though I am sixteen. I always thought it’s relaxing sitting out here and kicking my legs up to the sky.
I sit on the swing and softly swaying my body back and forth while kicking the rustling yellowish, golden leaves beneath my feet. The smells of the chimney smoke and the dry leaves that the fresh breeze scatters through the air tickle my senses. The pleasant scent reminds me of the winter approaching, as the fresh, chilly breeze washes over my skin. I memorize everything around me, maybe for the last time.
Tin, my dog, is sitting next to the tree. He is a golden - brown German Shepard, and I think he is the smartest dog in the entire world. Although, at times, he can be a handful.
Tin watches playfully as I kick the leaves up in the air. He loves dry leaves. He especially loves to dives his head into the mound of leaves and scatter it all around, which makes my father furious. But today, he just cocks his head from side to side and watches me with his bug eyes.
“Where have you been?” I pout at him, and he tucks his head into his paw.
“Did you terrorize the neighbor’s dogs and chickens again?” I hiss at