Personal Narrative : Creative Writing : Personal Writing

2070 Words9 Pages
I knew, soon, I would have to do it. The ominous desk sat by the far wall of my room, taunting me. Books and papers lay scattered around, a computer, towering them in authority. I tried to push the thought away, but the computer lay there, calling me. As I finally worked the nerve to get out of bed, the cold floor punched through the soles of my feet. I trudged nine feet to the chair, which was waiting patiently for me to sit in it, I looked at the time, 11:30PM.
“Time to inspire yourself,” I said to myself, pulling up my english paper. The blank page stared at me, killing my pride.
“Look at you,” it said. “Self-made, you say you are, independent you say you are. But you can't even think of a single word to type on me! HaHA! What a writer you are!”
12:00AM, 1:00, 1:30, 1:45AM. My doorbell rang. I ignored it.
“You're just trying too hard,” I thought to myself. I relaxed, and started to type:
Once upon a time…
“Too generic,” I thought, erasing it bitterly. I wrote again:
She shivered bitterly in the cold, turning back once more to the house behind her. There he stood, leaning in the doorway with a gun in his hand. Her heart stopped.
I stopped writing. “I can't write about something like this!” I thought. “The teacher might think this, or something like it, happened to me before.” I brushed this irrational thought away, but erased it anyway. Bitterly.
The doorbell rang again.
“Mooommm! Doooor!” I yelled outside my room, to the back. Silence.
The doorbell rang again.
“Mom!”
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