Creative Writing: The Brown Closet Door

One day, cutting through the swamp, David comes across the remains of old Indian souls and discovers a skull with jewelry still buried on the bodies. As David kicks at the skull, he hears a voice and looks up to see a black man seated on a stump just looking. The man, wearing a black sash around his body, has a soot-stained face, which makes it appear as if he works in some fiery place. David soon recognizes the stranger as the devil, the black man. Twenty years later we had a family reunion with all my relatives and they started talking about the fire.

“Do let us go downstairs,” I pleaded to John. “There are such pretty rooms there.”

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing in their minds showing them what it all meant to them. With every step they took on the sidewalk they remembered a different memory as if they were walking down memory lane. Ponyboy didn’t think it was possible for him to be walking down this street for the last time as a high school student, but he had gone through the years with great grades that earned him many scholarships.

I comfortably drive my car into the desolate street, Perusing the deserted buildings, Smashes windows and rusted For Sale signs. The car locked up like Fort Knox. I observe the street for trouble. Two young boys look at me from afar as if I'm an alien. Do I stand out that much same greasy hair, expensive clothes, a smart car I suppose I am out of my comfort zone? “Mister, you don’t belong here” his hand gripped his switch. “Pony.... Ponyboy Curtis” I stammer “I live here or at least I did, I'm here to see two-bit’ The Boys turn around “geez his old now” the boy's chirp. The boys stroll away in awe that they saw the great Ponyboy.

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

From when I was two years old until I was ten, my parents routinely shuttled my brother and I to the local Sears store every few months to get our pictures taken. My brother and I would sit patiently, smiling, in front of the background my parents chose while the photographer snapped away. After, all the pictures would be analyzed, the best ones selected and picture sizes determined. About an hour after arriving in the mall, my family and I would leave with multiple printed pictures in hand, ready for distribution to relatives or a photo album. Yet, after I turned ten, my mother increasingly opted to take pictures of my brother in I at home with her own camera and printer. This shift from going to Sears to get

Katy meets with Gilbert down at the courthouse and sign documents with him and they hand them in to get stamped with photographers and their parents nearby. Their document is stamped with a void and a different document is put in an envelope and passed to Gilbert. He puts it in his pocket and tries to kiss Katy, but she quickly stepped away from him in fear.

The rushing wind blows a scent of sea salt across my body, tickling my nose and awakening my senses. Slowly my eyes open to absorb the beauty of the morning sky, which is delicately speckled with poignant white cotton balls. A loud snore can be heard from the main room of the apartment, while the stilled breathing of my brother drones on. Carefully, I crawl out from my bed exiting the guest room and making my way slowly across the tiny apartment. My entire family lays across the main floor in a tangled mess of inflated beds and plush blankets. I traverse the maze with a multitude of leaps and bounds until I make contact with the porch door; which I slide through with relief. Standing within the square enclosure the turquoise tinted water greets me with beauty and graciousness. Even from the

By Saturday afternoon, the eighty-seven residents of the rural southern town of Wrongberight have suffered through four days of intense intermittent rainstorms. And to add to their misery another storm approaches the town from the northeast. Now, Clemmy Sue Jarvis since birth has lived here and has a simple philosophy concerning weather. As long as the almighty man upstairs allows her to draw a breath, she will enjoy life, regardless of the weather. At four o’clock, she lifts her petite frame into her rusty Ford pickup, and gradually eases out of her driveway. The soaring Pines that surround her home sway to the rhythm of the gusting wind as she turns south onto Flat Bottom Road and follows it along the edge the Dismal Swamp towards the isolated

“I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say about the way you treat me, now go home and look after your daughter, she needs you,” Silvia demanded, shrugging Walker’s arm off of her body.

Ludwig looked absolutely pissed. That was the first thing Arthur noticed as the blonde stalked down the halls, hair down for once, clothes askew, and such a strong irritation on his face that Arthur couldn’t help but snort to himself. It looked like someone had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, Ludwig never let his appearance be thrown together like that. The next thing Arthur noticed, however, was a little more interesting. A small statured man with silver hair, whose head only came to Ludwig’s shoulder, was hanging onto the blonde’s arm, a large grin on his lips. Now who the hell was that? It wasn’t like the Brit had seen him around school before, and Ludwig certainly hadn’t mentioned him.

My mother used to say, "You're like a bull in a china shop." That was quite a bit of intelligent words coming from the mouth of a mama mouse. She had obviously been referring to my clumsy mistake of breaking our lovely living room lamp, which was bought for her by my grandfather, her father, which she had adored. She loved that lamp. I felt ashamed for breaking it, but I had a different feeling towards what she said than she had wanted me to.

Clint quietly entered his office, exhausted from the foot work he has been doing and struggling to breathe with all that he wears to look proper. Taking off his coat, pulling his suspenders off, and just as he is unbuttoning his shirt the short black man smells the air. The musty air of his office wasn’t right. Reaching into his coat’s hidden pocket he pulls out his gun and time feels like it slows as his ears check for every little sound. Then he heard it. A filing cabinet very carefully sliding shut in the filling room.

Leaves glistened in the moonlight, as the wind howled in despair. I found myself alone, in the darkness, as I noticed a slim figure walking towards me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, as the individual walking towards me appeared to be a stranger. As the silhouette came closer, I realized that it was my dear aunt. Her face beamed with excitement, and she grabbed me into a tight embrace. “I am moving on,” she informed me as the corners of her mouth pulled into a genuine smile. She then turned around and began to gracefully amble out of the hinterland, as her shadow disappeared within the ominous darkness. I became aware that I was merely in a dream that was only a product of my subconscious mind. I became lucid, as relief washed over

Customers constantly swearing under their breath, banging on the door then transitioning over to the other side. “You really need to fix that door”.”It is so hard to open”. That is the phrase I hear about 32 times in my 4 hour shift at Ace Hardware. Slumping on the register as the flies buzz around I stare carelessly into the eyes of a customer as they rage in fury over a literal door."Let me speak to your manager immediately". "Alright sorry ma'am let me call you in", in my head I'm thinking "he's just gonna say the same thing he always does - don't worry ma'am we will have the door fixed this weekend" LIES. The irony of the story you ask? We are a hardware store that can't even fix their own door. This door however