"Creative writing describing a place" Essays and Research Papers

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    any sound coming from inside the outsized building‚ trying to sense any civilisation as the sky slowly turned into a rich black shade. I knocked onto the polished door‚ trying to depict a reaction from the owner that might’ve lived in this secluded place. Lights started to rapidly appear above the door and forming a luminous loop around the entire mansion‚ whilst the door blew open with such force that I was knocked back onto my spine. I tried to scamper away on my knees as a spine-chilling sensation

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    Bullying Creative Writing

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    I lean forward‚ the tips of my fingers on the track‚ back foot at a ninety degree angle from the ground. My eyes dart towards the tree about a hundred metres away from where I am. Dad blows the whistle; a high-pitched squeal that echoes throughout the isolated park.   I push my whole body forward with my back foot‚ and I’m at seventy percent of my full speed for the first sixty metres.   The brown grass beneath me is soft and I’ve reached sixty metres now‚ and the once hidden beast inside me has

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    Creative Writing: Silence

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    There is silence. Silence everywhere‚ such silence that the soft sounds created by swift movements happening around me are amplified. The water droplets explode into tiny particles as they hit my hot skin and flow down my body and you can even hear the water gushing into the drain. Correction: swirling into the drain. Gushing has negative connotations‚ but swirling has an optimistic twist to it. I look down and open my eyes‚ allowing the water to pour over my head down to my face. All I can see

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    blood red colours saturated the makeshift tent‚ signalling the arrival of a new year. Red papers rustled in the breeze. Inscribed on them were golden characters each indicating happiness‚ health and prosperity. Red flowers bloomed in their various places around the tent. Bodies piled in ecstatically‚ one after another‚ sniffing‚ as they entered‚ the heavenly aroma of the vast array of foods present. Greetings were exchanged. So was money‚ which remained silent in the red packets they were initially

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    the left?” Mimi questioned. “There’s a faint glow coming from behind that tree.” Her face paled as she seemed to be remembering her grandmother’s story. “We should check it out‚” Steve grinned. “No way! We shouldn’t even be in here in the first place!” “Come on‚ Mimi. . . . You’re no fun. Just a quick peek and then we’ll be right out‚” Steve promised.

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    Creative Writing (Fear)

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    FEAR. Opening the book ‘Raw’ penned down by Martin Crowe my eyes fixated on the following words‚ “Fear . That emotion I have fought all my life . Fear of rejection. Fear of unworthiness. Fear of failure. Fear of not moving forward. Fear of being dropped." Seeing and reading these words sent jitters down my spine and my head started reeling ‚ re-calling my experiences as a budding youngster in the gentleman’s game in all whites and a bright sun hat . I was like a new born calf trying to

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    The Rebirth My body laid stiff as board. I didn’t feel pain just my back pressed against the hard concrete cement. I yelled and screamed for him‚ but I couldn’t move. Then I pass out. I woke up to unbearable pain as the freezing cold air from the ambulance pieced my open wounds. The screams of horror and torture fill the cavity of the ambulance as I begged for anything to make the pain stop. I pass out again. Suddenly‚ I woke up with a thin unmistakable white hospital sheet laid over my body up

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    Flood - Creative Writing

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    Another night of that bloody rain again. God I hate winter. Lying in my bed‚ the pound of each raindrop as it is thrown from the heavens onto my roof rings in my ears. The gusts of wind freeze the hairs on my neck straight. Snuggling down into my bed‚ I feel a warm‚ almost happy sensation as my blankets form a protective cocoon around me‚ saving me from the terrible monster brewing outside my window. My eyelids attempt to glue themselves shut as I feel relaxation consume my sore old body. It all

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    The pyshcologist wasn’t certain to expect what type of Emily Harris would walk through the door. His practice usually consisted of adults‚ and he was practically experienced‚ with the teenage mind‚ particuarly since he and his wife‚ Grace.‚ had put aside plans to have children of their own‚ to forge ahead with their careers. Enough to make him one of the most prominent psychologists in the city‚ and her‚ a senior marketing executive for an international publishing company‚ a position her Father‚

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    Creative Writing: Drowning

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    Drowning: She slams the door shut‚ shaking the house with pure madness. My parents step out of the house‚ and take their big argument outside. I walked over to the window and watched their lousy arguing. It always ends up in the same place. One either gets kicked out of the house or someone leaves and doesn’t come back till a few days later. I was lying down on my lonely bed‚ looking at the ceiling fan go round and round. I was surrounded by the thin‚ white walls and the sounds of bickering outside

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