Creative Writing Task 3

When I was a child, I well remember dropping my sister's favourite cup. I thought I could hold three cups in one hand, but the shards of plastic on the ground proved my experiment was a failure. Hearing the crash, my mother rushed out of her room. Her loud voice could be heard from across the street as she yelled at me to go to bed. I could feel tears prick my eyes, threatening to spill out. I threw my arms around my mother, wailing and begging her no to make me stay in my room for a whole afternoon.
I looked out of the small window in my room, watching the cars drive in and out of the condominium. I wished I was in one of those cars, driving away from this torturous place. I slowly arranged everything on my bed, folding the blanket neatly and arranging the pillows to waste time. The pile of stuffed toys sat on my bedside table. There were dogs, cats, bears, tigers and many more. Eventually, I got bored and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
I woke up in the darkness. The sound of cars were more amplified. A line of moonlight found its way into my room. The door slowly opened. A small figure walked to my bed and climbed in. I felt a peace of mind and more sleepy. The figure lay down beside me and hugged my arm before I fell asleep again.
I woke again in the morning. The room was brightly lit. The mysterious being was gone, but a distinct smell stayed. I wondered who it was.

Creative Writing 1&2

1:

    One of my earliest memories is of my father. He usually wore a grey shirt, with a metal necklace dangling from his neck. He always took pictures of special times with us, like that time we celebrated my grandfather's birthday. He used to play a lot with me, but now those times are gone. However happy I may be, playing with my father, I still get injured like the time I dislocated my shoulder. My father had that voice, which has now changed, but, however, different it may be, my father is still my father. He cares a lot about me, and we love each other. But sometimes I ask myself, how can I change his temper. Thankfully now it is better.

    The place where I used to play was the living room. Back then, when I was a child, the living room was huge. Without a piano or all sorts of stuff, it is not like how it is now. Almost everyday, I take out a box. In the box, I find the familiar toys I play everyday. Blue, red, grey or green, the toy cars huddled in the box. One by one, I take them out and play with them for a long time. On other days, I play with a remote control car or a mini mountain where cars automatically go up and rid down. Those were fun times, times I still had fun. Up to now, I still have some toys I used to play.

    The house I used to live in is where I still live now. However, it is very different. Back then. The living room was giant. Without the piano and other boxes or trollys or extra sofas we have now, the place was awesome. There were three bedrooms, with different door colours, two purple, one blue. Those colours did not change up till now. The blue-doored room is the master bedroom, where my parents sleep. I hang out there sometimes since it's the biggest and is very comfy. I always sit on the sofa in the living room, eat snacks and relax, until now I still do it, the sofa one of my best friends.

2:

    The park lay before me. It was getting late; The orange sunlight reflected from the green leaves of the towering trees of the park. The light was growing less. The sky darkened. Feeling brave, I stepped into the park. I followed a trail through a park. I wanted to get home as soon as I can. Dad was busy working late, and could not fetch me from my ballet class

. The smell of the dense miniature forest overwhelmed me. The park, with a lot of corners and dark spaces to hide, can be a dangerous place for a girl like me.

    Suddenly, I heard tiny footsteps behind me. Turning around to confront whoever was behind, I heard a whimper. I was terrified. I knew I should have listened to mum and walked on the streets, instead of this shortcut. I quickened my pace and I could feel the figure accelerate too. I decided that I should run. I ran for my life. The moon was already rising. I knew I was far from help.

    The figure caught up, and the footsteps sounded like it was coming from my side. Turning my head around, I looked away, afraid of looking the stalker in his eyes. Crack! I stepped on a twig and fell. The figure was right beside me. I scrambled to my feet, and I ran, again. The figure was fast, following me beside. I ran off the path, into the woods, where there is safety. Squeezing through hole after hole, between trees and jumping over roots, I reached a dead corner. I'm doomed.

    I wished I listened to my mum and did not take this shortcut.

Creative Writing Task 2

The empty street lay before her. Liz found herself surrounded by tall and menacing buildings. The only source of light were dim and flickering lampposts. The road was still wet from the sudden rain. She could smell the wet pavement, and she hated it. She was angry at herself for missing the last bus home. However, she could not help but to smile. She could finally show her mother how brave and independent she was, and Liz always loved a good personal challenge.

   From behind her, she heard the faint sound of footsteps. She thought she was imagining things, but the footsteps only got louder. Swiftly, she turned her head around to see who it was, but in the empty street, there was only silence. It was getting darker, and she was far from home.

   The footsteps seemingly got louder, faster, closer. They echoed through the empty street, and suddenly the sound of footsteps seemed to have multiplied. The lampost closest to her flickered. She ran, faster and farther than she had ever ran. She took a left turn, another, then a right turn. She soon found herself in a foreign street. She was lost.

   And she wished she had agreed when her father offered to pick her up and drive her home.

Creative Writing Task 1

One of my earliest memories is my mother. She had short, dark brown hair that always had a clip with a white flower. I remember she often wore a simple white blouse and a long black skirt that almost reached her ankles. She was always happy, showing a smile that everyone loved. I remember how she always stopped eating halfway through a meal to help me with mine.

I remember going to the playground downstairs every day. I loved how it was so close to the small forest. There were large, tall trees surrounding the playground area. It was often filled with the sounds of insects and birds chirping. It would have been terrifying, if not for the laughter of my neighbours. We would run around the colourful playground, climbing up and down.

I remember the living room, which seemed a lot larger when I was younger. It always smelt like fried chicken, noodles or fish, whatever it was that my mother was cooking. I loved to slide on the smooth floor whenever I wore socks. I remember waddling down the long hallway and into my parent’s room, where I slept as well. I slept on a mattress on the floor, but I often climbed into my parent’s bed as I feared the monsters under the bed. I would wedge myself in between my parents for maximum comfort. Sometimes on boring afternoons, I would climb onto the bed to jump on it. I remember my mother coming in and catching me mid-air, and tell me for the umpteenth time not to jump on the bed.

   These are my earliest and greatest memories.