Saturday, 27 February 2016

Creative writing 3 by sarah fareed kagda

        When I was a child, I well remember the day when my sister and I were brushing our teeth in the morning. I filled my cup with water and splashed it on her for no reason whatsoever. Hearing my sister scream and cry quite pathetically, my parents turned to me and were infuriated.
        Having yelled at me, my parents sent me to my room. I cried and shuffled down as slowly as I could, even if it was one step away in the next room. After ages that were seconds, I reached my confinement chamber. I, being a funny child, dropped to the ground, rolling excruciatingly slowly, over to my bed. The sunlight streamed in, the orange walls making it bounce all around the room. I sighed. It was still morning. Back then, I would have felt being stuck in the small room was painful. Now I would have been thrilled because my room is like a whole world to me. Of course, I would not do anything wrong to be placed nicely in there.
        I woke up without remembering going to sleep. The room was filled with dark as if someone had come in and painted the air black. I tried to go back to sleep as usually I woke up at odd times like this for no reason, but Seth, my imaginary cat, started growling. Then I noticed the person at the window. I could feel their presence overpowering me in the dusty room.what were they doing? Were they hijacking my toys? I refused to move, wondering if they would run away if I did. At least, then I would know whether this person was a thief. 
        Later in the morning, through a sleepless night, long after the figure had gone, I rose. To this day, long after the mystical incident, I still have no idea who the person was, and if they had taken something. 

No comments:

Post a Comment