Discovery: Creative Writing
5a.m. is the time for thinking; the time for the brain to make sense of memories that refuse to be rationalised.
Twisted wisps of thought whirled around in his head, an endless helix of memories threatening to strangle his sanity and haunt the recesses of his consciousness. Consciousness which was losing the mental crusade against the ebb of drowsiness. Opening his eyes was a futile effort. The darkness would consume him and offer no refuge from the inferno inside his mind. The world no longer made sense, if it ever did. Though obfuscated by darkness, the relentless tick-tock of the clock changing its evidence resonated in his ears. Time would drain his sanity like sand from a hourglass until nothing but mirages
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Only the most determined rays pierced the curtains of darkness that enveloped the earth. There was still time for Andrew to collect his thoughts in preparation for the day to come. Outside lay the world he had always known. In the early hours of the morning, tranquility occupied the outside world, a reminder of a once elegant and less complicated mental landscape. Remnants of his childhood were scattered and fragmented: the local school, park and playground – simple constructions that offered the framework for memories of his younger self. Reminders of a person that is and isn’t him. All the segments of time he wished he could relive, even if just for a moment. Symbols of stability in a rapidly evolving and chronologically gyrating …show more content…
If he failed to take the opportunity he would remain under the shadow of insecurity, destined to follow the same routine for the many suns and moons he still had left on the planet. He would remain forgotten and in a perpetual state of nescience, trying to decipher a future he could still not comprehend. Parting with his mother felt as if his heart was being stretched in two directions, each with a pulling force equally as powerful was the other.
A myriad of people filled the terminal: some eager to board, others acting as if following a routine. It fascinated Andrew that although they would all share a flight, their destination would be far from the same. Each had their own story and future, intersecting at this one point in time. Each had their own decisions to make, hurdles to overcome and mistakes to learn from. For Andrew, this would be the first of many leaps to come.
As the plane took off, Andrew was left with one last glance of his hometown. His eyes absorbed every hill, every valley, every house that had nourished his childhood for one final time, ensuring that every detail remained with him, embedded into his mind. For it might not be the same when he returned, if he ever
oh so much. He didn’t think about how she would feel or even how his parents would feel. He left them in the dark, without knowing whether he was alive or not. When his mother was sitting down and looking at the photos of him during his final days she cried and said “I just don’t understand why he had to take those kind of chances. ”(132)
The visual’s background is formed by a dark and starry night sky; stretching across the image and transitioning into a sunny day sky. This is a representation of the passage of time, life, death, and the power of memories. The nighttime depicts ageing and adulthood, whereas the daytime represents youth and life. In the poem, the narrator describes the sky, ‘Ambiguous night, ambiguous sky,’ which is symbolic for the transience between adulthood and childhood. An ambiguous sky is a sky which is unclear or undecided. The faded transition from the night sky to the day sky reflects this notion and the uncertainty of memories; displaying how the poem
“There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land…I had never before looked up at the sky when there was not a familiar mountain ridge against it. But this was the complete dome of heaven, all there was of it. I did not believe that my dead father and mother were watching me from up there; they would still be looking for me at the sheep-fold down by the creek…. I had left even their spirits behind me. The wagon jolted on, carrying me I knew not whither. I don't think I was homesick. If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: here, I felt, what would be would be.” This new surrounding is the beginning of an adventure for
In the months, weeks, and eventually days leading up to my flight to Germany the panic was gnawing away at me. Despite the fact that this wasn’t the first time I was venturing out without my parents or even my first time on a plane, it was my first time for a myriad of other experiences in my life. My first international adventure, my first time living with a family that wasn’t my own, and my first time being surrounded by people speaking a different language; all of which began with a simple decision to cross the threshold between the jet bridge and the plane.
Andrew has come back home to attend his mother’s funeral, but has been away for so long he has become estranged to his New Jersey hometown and everyone in it. The reunited
The clearing was quiet, it seemed lifeless. The Salinas River still flowed merrily near the hillside. The water was still warm from the afternoon sun, and still reflected a green hue. On one side of the river, the smooth foothill slopes still curved up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, and the other side was still lined with trees. The willows and sycamore branches still swung gently in the wind, and the leaves still created a green light within the space. It was totally calm and peaceful… but something was wrong. The air seemed heavier, and the sun seemed dimmer. No animals stirred, and everything seemed to be aware of a deep sadness. Nothing moved save for a small group of men standing around an unmoving figure.
“There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air.” He begins to be more cynical in how he views his own life in comparison, he realizes that there are certain feelings and memories he can no longer
For days he stayed there, curled up by the wall. The sun would rise, somewhere, illumine the mouth of his pitiful den, grace the cold rock in front of him with a soft blue sheen, and set again, immersing his life in empty darkness. One day, two, three, he stopped counting, buried his mind in the chambers of his soul where a soft dim warmth still glowed. Waves of grief passed through, turned him over in riptides of hungriest despair, roaring death pounded nightly at his door, and then, hearing no answer, tore away again, letting warm comfort envelop him and soothe his damaged
The lake darkens as the ominous clouds race across the sky, as black as the devil’s soul, and swallows the bliss-blue complexion of the sky faster than you can blink. The world has abruptly become cellar-dark and the heavens above look to collapse down upon me. A deafening wind runs over the landscape like a thousand horses, the noise of the raindrops their clattering hoofs. The threatening force of the gales knocks and blows the trees in precarious ways, almost as though, if it had wanted to, the wind could blow them away as if they were but feathers, not heavy pines. Lighting lights up the sky like liquid, golden ore streaks being forged into forks up above. Wriggling and writhing with the pain of their own existence. Flashing once, twice, three times, polished and glossy like the cold prongs of the apocalypse. Shaking myself from my weather-caused trance, I hurry for shelter under a nearby fern tree. Staring deep into the blackness of the storm I wonder whether I will ever see that bliss-blue appearance
Kevin grit his teeth. His hands strangled the arms of his blue leather seat that were embroidered with white thread. Fear oozed from every pore within his body. His body tensed as we felt the engine roar, saw the turbines spin, and runway come to life. As the plane’s thrusters kicked in, Kevin shut his eyes, but I didn’t. I stared through my window and watched the runway lights gradually merge into a single line of fluorescent orange. Before I knew it, I was gazing upon Philadelphia, hundreds of feet in the air, illuminated by the light of an afternoon’s sun. Our destination, the Marine Corps Recruiting Depot.
The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of
That was a very traumatic and a very hard time for him because throughout his lifetime, his mother would always be there to help guide him throughout all of the challenges that he has conquered through his life. His father was not really around to be in his life as much as he needed to be as a father. His father was mostly working and out and about with his own friends.One of his worst fears was being afraid of losing someone he loves.
I remember the first time I flew in an airplane. My eight-year-old self looked out the window of the terminal I was taking off from, astounded by the large size of the vehicle. Worried, I thought to myself how could something that big fly with so many people? Yet, as the plane took off my worries became excitement. Not only was this my first flight, this was the event that marked the start of my new life, my takeoff from Vietnam to America.
Jonathan’s pursuit of the perfect flight took everything from him. He lost his health, his family, his friends, and even his home. Although he struggled at times
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.