preview

Creative Story : A Short Story

Decent Essays

James ripped open the bags. Hundreds of passengers passed through each day, baggage in hand aggressively arguing their innocence. He dealt with them strictly. His angled nose, stiff facial features and intimidating nature fit perfectly with the intense atmosphere of the customs and quarantine unit. James squinted at a woman and her son on the opposite side of the conveyer belt, not understanding what was taking so long for them to open their last carrier. A small shadow tugged on his mother’s pants, obviously aware of the gazes upon them and knowing that the boy didn’t wish to be seen, James shifted his eyes from the sight. Instead, feeling the long hours of work in his ankles and shoulders, he decided it was time to finish up. “Ma’am-”, James began. A crowd of backpackers hustled past, knocking the woman’s elbows, forcing the bundled belongings to burst from the bag like fireworks. He glared at the packets of seaweed, dried cod and browned leaves- obviously undeclared items. Continuing to rummage through the contents with his latex hands, he abruptly pulled away, staring at a cheap tattered fan he had discovered. Staring at the scarlet material, James’ suppressed memories of his own mother began to flood his mind. The garish plaything she had owned fanned just one of her many superstitious beliefs and his fourteen-year-old self never understood why his mother held so much faith in these things. Unlike most mothers who welcomed their children with hot steamed buns, he was

Get Access