Hey Guys, can you guys please help me with my creative writing, it's still in the writing stage but I want to perfect it and need ideas to carry it on.
The brushes swept across my porcelain skin and swept the powder off my face. The comb detangled my brown long hair that fell across my bare shoulders while I stared at the reflection of myself in the mirror. I applied my gloss to my bitten and dry lips that screamed nervous tendencies “you’ll be fine Blaire, you’ll be fine”.
I looked around the edge of my mirror to the post it notes that were stuck on the frame, they read the messages Rachel has been telling me for months in our sessions, “they are too caught up in their lives to worry about you” and “this is temporary”. They seemed like your typical Rupi Kaur poems you see on Tumblr, but they were what I needed to here. Meanwhile I repeated these messages to myself I put on the outfit I laid out on my bed, the oversized band tee and the leggings I have been wearing for the past few days. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and the pulse in my head.
Cecelia barged in the door to shout across the room, “where are you going?”
“James’s place, I’m meeting his parents remember, why?”
“Oh yeah, just wanted to know but are you really going dressed like that? You’re meeting his parents Blaire, show yourself off more than this,”
“But I don’t know Cecilia, I don’t freaking know what to wear, what they are like and what they want from me”.
She stormed over to my closet drawing out the dresses my mother bought me years ago,
“Wear this Claire, it’s so much nicer than your homeless chic”
“I’ve gained weight remember, it doesn’t look good on me, it’s too tight”
She sighed as she left because she knew I wouldn’t listen to her.
I then waited near the front door until his car pulled up near the driveway. I could feel my pulse in my chest. The drive which felt like an eternity, we passed by the homes I dreamt of owning. The suburbs were lusciously green and screamed prosperity and the American dream. No one there were like where I am from, they had multiple cars, swimming pools and I even saw a private basketball court. I felt like I was driving through an Architectural Digest magazine but thirty minutes from home.
“You live here?” I muttered over the radio
“Yeah, I moved here when I was six, what about it?”
My tone deepened as I replied, “It’s so grand, the houses are mansions, I’ve never really been in places like this before?”
“Yeah they are pretty nice I guess… is that bad?”
“No, no, I just, well I don’t know”
“Babe, don’t worry about it, this area isn’t all what it seems”
I just didn’t respond; it was pretty clear that someone from the south doesn’t belong here. The area even smelt different, there was no clogged sewerage on the side of the road or smashed beer bottles along the gutters. The laws were mowed immaculately, edges trimmed, and bushes pruned. My fear was through the roof as he pulled up next to this white picket fence in front of his grey, panelled home.
“We’re here babe, they’ll love you so don’t worry,”
“I hope so” I sighed.
Home
Help
Search
Login
Topic: English Creative (Read 670 times)