The House- Creative Writing Essay

The drive home was difficult; his vision swam and his muscles felt stiff and achy. Too bright city lights glared at him, pierced his eyes. His head throbbed, beat, beat, beat, in rhythm with his racing heart. Nausea rocked in his stomach and every noise seemed amplified. Why were these damn people driving so slowly? He needed to get home; he was already late as it was, and his father wouldn't be pleased. Leaving the glowing city behind him, Aiden found slight relief in the peaceful country roads and sharp peppermint smelling pines that surrounded his home, if you could call it that.

What is the personal significance of your given name (first, middle, and last)? My given name is Kimberly Müller. The personal significance of my given name is very important to me because I want my name to always have something great behind it, that’s one of my goals. My surname came from Germany, I sometimes wonder how a German surname came all the way to Haiti. My first name is the most perfect name for myself, so I just have to thank my parents for that, my mother’s name starts with the same letter as my name.

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.

We got out of the car and the second I shut the door out came the Lopez family. She said to me “Theres no way in this entire world that I could do to repay you for raising this money to keep my family safe in a home that has secure walls and a door with a lock on it.” “Here i find myself thinking that if anyones life is going to be changed, its mine, and I'm so grateful for this opportunity” I replied. As the day goes on children from all over the community are coming over to the house begging us to play soccer with them, braid there hair, and take pictures with them. My heart was filled with so much joy Putting so much hard work into something and being able to say that not only did your hard work pay off for yourself, but it paid off for

There wasn’t much in it, just empty shelves and a couple of dusty tables. At the far end of the room, a few dark objects sat on a table.

The stone remains cold from decades of freezing winter nights as it sat neglected andunwanted. The couches is decorated in a faded flaming pattern of roses. The musty smell continues into the library. Shelves of forgotten novels line the fourwalls, and a large window is strategically placed between two of the shelves. The lights hangingfrom the ceiling are dimmed, and the melodic ringing of wind could be heard. Bodies crowdtogether in the small room, and all heads gaze at one single item. The television growls awarning, but it is set up in the form of a welcome to the hotel. Above the shelves sit manyknickknacks: a beat up camera, adusty music box, a rickety old fortune telling machine, andeven a vintage girl’s doll sits on the wall with beady eyes staring down at me. I gaze at my oldfriends. Their presence adds a hype to the idea of what awaits. The television blanks out and thefamiliar spike in my heartbeat comes, and there goes the lightning right on queue. The creek ofthe door is heard over the rumbling of voices, when a bright light blinds my vision for a quicksecond. A heated breeze flocks into the room from the shadowy corridor. The empty smell of steam surrounds, and it caresses my arms the further into the room Igo. The cold brick walls brush against my arms as families rush past me. The concrete floorchanges into a steel bridge. Over the railing, the boilers cascade down to the floor standing talland rusted. The smell of oil and steel disgustingly mix. The sound of my feet clattering againstthe steel reverberates around the room. The bridge splits into two and leads the newcomers intoan aloof. I remember, in the end it doesn’t matter; however, I am pulled to the right. The redboilers line the path as it slowly descends. The clatter of footsteps follows, and the steam in theroom thickens, crushing me. I turn to the elephant in the room. A steely service elevator door threatens the room in amagnificent haze of power. Above the powerful door

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.

They were passing a magnificent antebellum mansion on the left. A deep-buried memory hovered on the edge of consciousness just out of reach. She knew this house, but how. Something wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be here. It belonged further down the street. She could visualize a large crystal chandelier above a glossy wooden floor with the rugs and furniture removed to make ample room for their guests to

Ever wondered what happens to brothers when they fight till they leave the house, it’s not a straight away thing but takes little events in their life to turn them against each other, this is one type of event.

I was giddy to get home i was walking down my my street “ Walkers rd.” I scoffed and roll my eyes. I walk down this road everyday and appreciate the scorching irony every time. I opened the deep oak doors with force. My 13 year old body still has trouble. I shoved the door with the elbow my grey backpack wasn't depending on. Finally when my body managed to push the door, something wasn't right. By that i mean my house wasn't mine… the orchard my mother obsesses over wasn't the center of the foyer , the bright white walls with the complementary purple rug wasn't there. It was dark with a rustic light switch. I hit the light switch and the creepy hospital lights that turn on one by one showed blinding light that settled to a musty yellow

Again, the dark laughter echoed in her head. Shit, shit, shit. She was so damn stupid, so bloody arrogant. In spite of the sunglasses she wore to lessen the risk of overstimulation to her senses, the lenses were no safeguards against the weighted stares of the people on the bus, and Tung wasn’t here acting as a buffer.

I now stood in the empty hall. The walls were made of cold cobblestone, lined neatly forming the long hallway to the feeding room. The building, Mrs. Reed’s residence was an old castle created from stone and iron. The hallway was dark only being illuminated by infrequent sconces sitting on the walls two inches below the ceiling. There were no windows as the residents of the castle, being stalkers of the night, had an incredible aversion towards the beating rays of the sun. Before me was the feeding-room door, where the creatures that lived in the castle fed upon their provided pints of blood every evening at midnight. I stopped, intimidated and trembling. What a miserable little poltroon had fear, engendered of unjust punishment, made of

The single drive and one story house was home for a family of 4. Teaching school and driving buses got them the house on a street filled with strangers who would soon become life long friends. Marriage and college took the children dear to their hearts to new streets where life would mature them. Bumpy roads and misfortune would bring this 4 person home back together, but this time adding two more little ones for memories to be had. Years of growing older and moving through grade school would turn a short time visit into a long one. Friends and family coming and going, that door never once came unhinged. A house as busy as that one could never break because of the love shared in it. Home improvements along

in a long black coat, stood a man – his eyes pierced her skin as he

"Arkon! Why are you home so early!?" He stood in the doorway silently staring. Blood still dripped from his metal clad hands onto the wooden floor. Metal creaked as he closed his hands into fists.