Chinatown Creative Writing

Finally, here. I check the time on my flip phone and its past midnight. This is not looking good. I’m feeling petrified and everything is shaking whilst continuing to move in the path of horror. My gut is telling me not to but I need to face this predominant fear of mine, and with that I suddenly pressed the metallic doorbell. Consequently, the double French doors creaked open. What have I done?

I can see the way Aimee looks at me. I know what she wants, because I feel it too.

She turns her head looking right at me, her face becomes bright red, just as red as the roses I had on the counter. Her eyes become bigger than a golf ball, and she sprints right at me. But before I can process what just happened, her face is a foot from mine.

The streets of South Bellevue are some to never be forgotten. The neighborhood is filled with the joyous laughter of children and the archaic wisdom of the elderly. It is one of the few amicable communities among the busy city. Bellevue shields it’s people like a mom who graciously protects her young from the dangers of the outside world. Bellevue is a wonderful neighborhood with a variety of individual experiences.

I quickly run to her and put my hand on her back. I look her in the eyes. There blankly starring ahead at something. Searching the air in front of us, as if there was a picture there. People around us start to stare, luckily her hoodie is somehow still up.

up the flasks, and started to smell the different chemicals. “I am just going to bring back

"It's nothing, just see you later and trust me you really don't have to act like you know me when were in school."

How to Find Yourself Set in present day New York, “Trying to Find Chinatown” is a short, one-act play David Henry Hwang wrote in 1996. Only two actors, Ronnie and Benjamin, interact throughout the entire play, but through their conversation we learn about who they truly are and not who their genes require them to be. Hwang shows us that it is our nurturing environment and not our genetics that define us, and he helps make this an exceptionally convincing case through his use of character and setting. Hwang demands his audience realize that our nurturing environment is more important than our genetic one. This argument is not a new one.

You never paid much attention to your clock. It’s just something that was just there, like your nose or the mole on your forearm. They all say you’re wrong to ignore it, to avoid it because you can’t stop fate. No matter how much you wanted to. However, you were never one to follow the rules. Instead, you push the limits, bend it all until it breaks. But as the seconds slowly counted down, you found yourself getting more and more nervous.

I bury my face in my hands, unable to hide the red flush on my face. Ava hugs me, a smile on her face as well.

Hand is hand, we head toward the front. A hand rests on my shoulder. I turn to my right, it's Jess. She stares at me then to my left hand that is enclosed by him. Sher raises her eyebrows in question. My blush deepens to a rosy red. She looks me in the eye and starts

“Hey! Come on!” When my eyes bring the world into focus, I see the face of a man. He’s looking at me with a concerned expression.

"Abigail Jackson!" Ashley yells, taking control of the situation. My heart is still pounding from Abby's 'could've been near death experience'. I feel a

“How did you cut your thumb with a razor blade and why were you using one?” Mrs. Fincher questioned (the nurse).

Keeping my book on the adjacent seat, I caught a glimpse of the black-framed wall clock out of the corner of my eye for the ninth time this hour, scrutinizing the second hand, which seemed to linger an extra minute at every passing second. I took my gaze off of the clock, silently vowing to