Creative Writing: The Glendora Apartment

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.

If you look in the Sayre park art room, you might see someone standing in there painting or drawing or maybe even sculpting with clay. She is very elegant and friendly. But who is she?

One day, I was drawing something when my older sister comes up to me and tells me that she’s going to a place called “La La Land” (more than a decade before the movie, btw). I was too absorbed in my drawing to really care and shrugged it off. She wanders off and I don’t see her for some time.

In the city, there were countless attractions that summoned visitors on a day-to-day basis. The buses, trains, new subway system, cars, and elevated railroads all carried people over from everywhere and into New York. The city had all types of attractions that the towns didn’t, such as Broadway the shopping districts, cabarets and nightclubs, and fine wine-and-dine restaurants where the rich could enjoy an extravagant dinner and time. The middle class could do similar, all while being surrounded by and visible to family, friends, and neighbors. The city flourished with life, especially at night once streetlights became available. Those who had the ability to do so enjoyed everything that there was to offer; however, not everyone had the opportunity to relish in the excitement available.

I look up towards the sky and see dark clouds rolling across the sky towards the west where the sounds of gunfire could be heard off in the distance. I look around the cramped bunkhouse and see the other prisoners. The bunkhouse is cold and smells of rotting flesh and human waste. The beds are made of cheap wood and thin cloth with some hay for a mattress. The guards walk in and start telling people to wake up. I slowly get out of my wooden bed out onto the muddy floor. My feet feel cold as they touch onto the earth below. My hands start to hurt from the cuts covering them when I try and get up. I see a man refusing to get out of his bunk near the entrance of the bunkhouse. The guards saw him refusing to follow their orders and dragged

“It is a shame that her father left her...this happened because her mother failed her job as a wife...she is so young...what was her father thinking?”, my relatives whispered as they sipped their tea. My cousin’s face turned pale like the white blanket of snow falling outside the lodge at the camp in Lake Tahoe. Her expression held so many emotions as if it was a canvas of a painting to be gazed upon. I could see that she felt frustrated and tired of these rude remarks, and all I did was just stand there and caressed the back side of her hands, so I could comfort her. Suddenly, it felt like the air had thickened so much that even a hammer could not slash it into tiny bits. My cousin had not yet known why her father left the house yesterday.

“Cas it cost a fortune to get you to go to this camp,” her mom yelled. Cas didn’t want to go because her least favorite person would be there. Cas walk to her closet and grabbed two suitcases full of clothes and a couple pairs of shoes.

Everyone has a place where they go to escape all the pressures and worries of life. There is always that one spot that can that can soothe all your problems and troubles in times of stress. For me, it’s the South Padre beach, the cure to all of my problems. While I am there, all of my obligations are suddenly erased.

One car, one wrench, and one roll of duct tape. That's all I needed to get a three and a half ton Yukon out of a “very broke down situation.” Hearing the car start clucking, I started to think “I’m gonna be awhile.” The Boston Mountain loops scenic roads are nice to drive but I guess I didn’t get to be lucky that evening in October. Besides the truck start to stalling out, going around the sharp curves on a hill with momentum was a thought of I’m going to crash. Not only did I have to fear that, but when I got pulled over, that the car kick out gear and go rolling down the hill. I did have some luck that day; having brought a toolbox with me.

“We need to be there. We need to stop. Can we stop? I don’t feel well. Please, let’s just stop for the night. I”m going to be sick.”

It was a typical day in the Tatafu household, with my sister and I participating in a match of our amateur version of basketball, my mother passionately gardening and the rest of the house basically lounging around. I remember distinctly that the day was the 2nd of February, also known as the aggravating first day of school. For odd some reason, I had sensed an unsettling feeling that blended in with our borderline ‘couldn’t-be-bothered’ behavior as we foregathered in for dinner. The silence that usually accompanied our dinners had transitioned into a newfound awkward hush, and I knew immediately that something just wasn’t right. I had heard the gossip slipping through the occasional conversations within the disorderly family meetings, however I just assumed they were rumours. They had to be. “She lost the baby.” I introduce to you, ladies and gentlemen, the day my world disintegrated.

As I walked into the Flint Hills Mall through the front side entrance, I could see an abundance of people in the empty space by the Kansas Drivers License Office. There were rows of shiny, smooth, wooden benches, which families and guests were sitting on. You could see them talking and laughing to each other, and giving pep talks to their kids. I could see the white table the judges were sitting at as they prepared to evaluate each student. I could see the judge's water bottle at each of their seats and bowls of candy inbetween each of them. I could see students sitting and standing on the sides preparing and talking. Students were either wearing white, red, or blue uniforms with a colored belt around their waist depending on what level they

The forest behind Aiden's house were thick, and stretched on for miles. Tall pines, maples, and oaks reached up from the ground, their green and scarlet tipped fingers scraping the sky. Green-gold morning light filtered through the dense canopy above his head, and a few early fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet. A lazy stream trickled its way through the tangle of roots and heavy underbrush, gurgling softly as it went; the scales of small fish flashing below its crystal surface.

I can feel the warm breeze push against my face as I am travelling up the mountain. I can feel the sweat dripping down my face. A mountain lion roars in the distance. Trees become scarce as I continue up to the summit. I can smell the sweatiness of myself and the other backpackers as we scramble up the boulders. The dry air is tickling my taste buds, as oxygen becomes more difficult to obtain.

I describe the location and the woman. I describe the multicolored feathers in her hat, and the way she seemed so at peace with the world around her; I described the mountains that seemed to stretch forever.