JigglyJims
New Member
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2009
- Messages
- 12
- Gender
- Male
- HSC
- 2009
Hey Guys,
Here is a creative writing i've written for an exam. The stimulus we have is a photo, showing people sitting out the front of a house having morning tea.
If you wouldn't mind, could you guys read it and let me know what you think.
Cheers.
Every morning I wake up and see the photo, every morning I wake up and remember the discovery I made three weeks ago.. I still hadn’t made up my mind; would I tell my parents what I had found? Or would I go on, pretending that nothing had ever happened? I was sure of one thing however, what I had found would change my life forever.
It all began three weeks ago. Mum and Dad were arguing again. They didn’t argue very often, but when they did, they kept it a secret. There would be an occasional moment when I would catch mum crying, or when Dad would spend hours in his office at a time, not even coming out for Dinner. In recent weeks though, a sort of tension had been growing between them, it was subtle, like two tightly wound springs, ready to break at any moment.
That spring broke faster than I thought. I was getting ready to go to bed when the yelling started. It went on for a few minutes, before I decided, enough is enough, I had to find out what was going on. I crept cautiously through the house, and approached Mum and Dad’s bedroom door. They were speaking more calmly now, and I could understand what they were saying.
“We have to tell him, we can’t keep this a secret forever. Eventually they will stop sending letters, and will come around here in person”.
“Put it back in the drawer”, Dad said, “We will tell him when he’s ready to know the truth, not before.”
I could tell that they were talking about me, and I knew that the drawer they were talking about was in Dads office. He had taught me from a very young age that there were some things in life that are meant to be kept private, and that drawer in his office was one of those things.
Eleven O’clock, Twelve O’clock, One O’clock. Hours and hours passed, until I knew it was safe enough to venture into the unknown abyss of Dad’s office. The office was small, dark, and uninviting. There was no painting’s on any of the walls, no photos of family or friends, nothing. The only thing that stood out at all was the ancient filing cabinet. Sitting in the dark corner, covered in dust, looking like it hadn’t been touched for a hundred years.
Opening the cabinet was like opening a Sarcophagus, as the drawer slid open, a feeling of anxiousness swept over me, anticipating what I could find inside. The folders inside were all date-stamped, ranging back to 1991, the year I was born. I pulled out the oldest folder, and emptied the contents onto the table. That was when I saw the letter.
“Dear Son, we have been awaiting a reply for so many years. Please Contact Us. You’re Parents.” It wasn’t until I saw the front of the envelope that I realised what was going on. It was addressed to me.
Every morning I wake up and see the photo, every morning I wake up and remember the discovery I made three weeks ago. That was when I realised, for the past fifteen years, these were the people who had loved me, looked after me, fed me and raised me. One piece of paper doesn’t change any of that. These were the people that I really loved, this was my family. Within that photo, within the family it shows, is where I really belong.
Here is a creative writing i've written for an exam. The stimulus we have is a photo, showing people sitting out the front of a house having morning tea.
If you wouldn't mind, could you guys read it and let me know what you think.
Cheers.
Every morning I wake up and see the photo, every morning I wake up and remember the discovery I made three weeks ago.. I still hadn’t made up my mind; would I tell my parents what I had found? Or would I go on, pretending that nothing had ever happened? I was sure of one thing however, what I had found would change my life forever.
It all began three weeks ago. Mum and Dad were arguing again. They didn’t argue very often, but when they did, they kept it a secret. There would be an occasional moment when I would catch mum crying, or when Dad would spend hours in his office at a time, not even coming out for Dinner. In recent weeks though, a sort of tension had been growing between them, it was subtle, like two tightly wound springs, ready to break at any moment.
That spring broke faster than I thought. I was getting ready to go to bed when the yelling started. It went on for a few minutes, before I decided, enough is enough, I had to find out what was going on. I crept cautiously through the house, and approached Mum and Dad’s bedroom door. They were speaking more calmly now, and I could understand what they were saying.
“We have to tell him, we can’t keep this a secret forever. Eventually they will stop sending letters, and will come around here in person”.
“Put it back in the drawer”, Dad said, “We will tell him when he’s ready to know the truth, not before.”
I could tell that they were talking about me, and I knew that the drawer they were talking about was in Dads office. He had taught me from a very young age that there were some things in life that are meant to be kept private, and that drawer in his office was one of those things.
Eleven O’clock, Twelve O’clock, One O’clock. Hours and hours passed, until I knew it was safe enough to venture into the unknown abyss of Dad’s office. The office was small, dark, and uninviting. There was no painting’s on any of the walls, no photos of family or friends, nothing. The only thing that stood out at all was the ancient filing cabinet. Sitting in the dark corner, covered in dust, looking like it hadn’t been touched for a hundred years.
Opening the cabinet was like opening a Sarcophagus, as the drawer slid open, a feeling of anxiousness swept over me, anticipating what I could find inside. The folders inside were all date-stamped, ranging back to 1991, the year I was born. I pulled out the oldest folder, and emptied the contents onto the table. That was when I saw the letter.
“Dear Son, we have been awaiting a reply for so many years. Please Contact Us. You’re Parents.” It wasn’t until I saw the front of the envelope that I realised what was going on. It was addressed to me.
Every morning I wake up and see the photo, every morning I wake up and remember the discovery I made three weeks ago. That was when I realised, for the past fifteen years, these were the people who had loved me, looked after me, fed me and raised me. One piece of paper doesn’t change any of that. These were the people that I really loved, this was my family. Within that photo, within the family it shows, is where I really belong.