Sunday, 1 November 2015

Creative writing

This is my creative writing I wrote for an internal at school! Thought I might just throw it on here and see what you guys think! 


Creative writing


I sat in a pool of my own despair and displeasure, inside the four walls of the gleaming white room. I could feel his warmth radiating against my cold, insipid, toxic filled skin.  We sat in silence while he held tightly onto my numb hands.  I didn't want him here.  I despised his presence.  I thought I had avoided him altogether since the MRI scan and the first few treatments but he's persistent.  

My mother sits hunched up into a chair on the other side of the room reading a magazine featuring a model with long golden hair.  She looks happy and sun kissed and this makes me feel an ache in the pit of my stomach. This is the most distant I've ever seen my mother when we are here.  The first time round she was the one holding the deep shiny silver bowel beside me not him.  Things are different this time.  

I am older and more aware this time unfortunately.  Being aware of my situation is just as poisonous as the toxins running through my veins,  dragging me into a deep pool of anguish.

  The clock keeps ticking .   I'm surrounded with the small hum of machines, the tip toe of footsteps through the corridor and the small breaths of cold, silent bodies in the room surrounding me.  Every now and again I catch small glimpses of a young girl , about 10 years old through the white sheets hanging from the ceiling. I can hear murmuring coming from her side of the sheets.  She too sits beside a victim of her own helplessness with a grim look on her face.  I feel for her. I was exactly her six years ago and here I was again.

  The bright lights were beginning to burn my eyes.  The overwhelming crisp, toxic-meets-cleaning product  smell of the room was starting to seep into my brain,  through my nose and down into the pit of my stomach where it sat distilled.  It's only a matter of time till my misery is projected out of my gob. It falls down into the silver bowl I used to refer to as a space craft as a child. I  stop. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Then a salty tear rolls down my face.  This is why I didn't want him here.  I couldn't bare him seeing me like this.   I then thought to myself, this is only the beginning.  There would be worse situations he would see me in yet to come. I knew it.  I also knew it would break his heart. This was the  reason I resented his presence.  I had been through this all before but he hasn't.  This is what I'm trying to protect him from.

  He slid his fingers through my curly shoulder length hair and for a moment I lose my train of thought and I feel like the poison is draining right out of me.  I realise a thick curly lock of my hair toppled from my scalp on to the crystal white bed behind us.  This is the longest my hair has ever been since I was five and it has taken me four years to grow it back.  As a sixteen year old girl my curly sun kissed hair is everything to me.  It makes me feel feminine. It makes me feel pretty and I am about to lose it all. This scared him.   As soon as it hits the bed like a stone hitting glass shattering it like it shatters his hopes at this moment.  His expression changes more quickly than I thought.  He looked at me and kissed me on the forehead as if to say it's not a big deal and continued to wait in silence until the plastic bag of horror was empty.  This shocked me and my anger at him slowly evaporated out of my skin and floated out to cyber space.

  The next moment  a perky white coated lady came over with a large gleaming grin on her face and said "You can go now once I unhook you Ella." Her smile feels sarcastic to me. How can anyone be so joyful in such a depressing place?  She says "Have a great day."  As he gracefully lifts me up and we began our slow journey to the car hand in hand. I left the confinement of those four white walls that day with a new kind of poison I've never had before.  One that could kill me more than the one that little plastic bag could ever seep into my skin.  The poison that is the unbreakable love I have for him.

By Megan Cook

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