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Gripped - creative writing.

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Gripped That Saturday afternoon filled me from top to toe with a series of emotions, which ripped through my body. My mind spiraled back to...screeeech! The car ahead of me came to a sudden halt as the brakes of the car screeched defiantly. I began to focus on other, less demanding, things but the sound of the car coming to an alarming stop kept echoing in my ears, the only difference was it kept becoming louder, more overwhelming throbbing within the confines of my head wanting to be FREED.... I watched in dismay as Ms Bichel had advanced towards my home. My brother, Adam and her were already at each other's throats, it was only a matter of time till he was at mine. ...read more.


Adam had smirked, "DANCE?" he had asked. For some reason people found this rather odd that when I hear music my mind loses control of my body, the music penetrates into my soul and I lose myself in the music, in the moment. Apparently the fact that I relish Ballet is rather amusing to most who believe it infringes on my 'boy' character. I would never be able to fathom the people who mocked me; I was not able to fathom Adam himself when he forcibly lifted me and placed me on the table, like a puppet with attached strings and asked me to dance. ...read more.


Down a flight of stairs, I continued. I had to get the music, dance out of my system. It was wrong. But it wouldn't go. I kept hearing Adam, Ms Bichel, the sniggers of the boys at the school resonating in my head. I still danced, down a familiar street and danced and danced and danced till I collided with a barrier and I stopped, it stopped. It was made to stop. I remembered Robbie calling out to me, my call back to reality. I stood up and followed him home. As the car came to a stop, I realized we had reached our destination but I wondered whether I would ever be able to, reach my destination, achieve my goal, ever be able to dance. ...read more.

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