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The Orphan

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The Orphan Creative Writing Coursework Just looking at her in her white coffin, looking glum, made me feel so isolated and depressed. I just wanted one last hug with her and to take back my vicious words that I now regret. Deep down I always loved her, though she could be a pain. The words of last week were ringing in my ear, repeating and echoing over and over again. As I was in my daze, I had a feeling and turned around to see my aunt's cold, hard eyes staring back at me. I then realised she had no compassion or love for my mother. The journey to the church made me feel insecure and miserable. I looked out of the car and saw fields of daffodils and poppies, in a desolate landscape, reminding me of the time when me and my mother used to run through them when I was a youthful child. This memory faded as I reached my destination at the church. ...read more.


I don't express my rage in any verbal or physical fights, I just usually keep them bottled up to myself. When my feelings do, however explode, the explosion is much bigger and destructive than usual, especially the one with my mother. I find myself extremely ashamed afterwards. I need to learn to find useful ways to express my feelings rather than suppressing them. My mother always used to say that to me. I know now that she was right. I looked over at Aunt Tuatha, who gave me a ghastly glare. She ignored me once again. No one never really liked her. She's alaways been alone, in her large eerie house. She's known as a very bitter and indignant person, who doesn't really make any contact with anyone. She's always seen dressed in dark and gloomy colours and keeps a stern face which never shows any emotion. She seems vexed and ill-tempered. Her eyes reminded me of my mother's, big and blue, like a cat's eyes. ...read more.


She did everything for me, and I appreciate everything she did. The somber funeral ceremony ended. Close relatives, their faces shrouded in black veils, clutched each other during the hour-long ceremony, began standing up. After the service, mother's coffin, which was pure white, embroidered with gold was carried by four men, suited in black, shuddering slightly in the breeze. I glanced over at the car that my mother's coffin was carried in. It was black and the inside was showered with different types of flowers, all fresh and presented in a beautiful way. There was a group of flowers put together spelling my mother's name, in Lilies. Lilies were my mother's favourite flower, because she believed that they represent purity and a sign of love. I approached the car and took out a lily from the group. I slowly paced myself to my mother's grave, and laid the lily on it. It was my way of saying sorry and forgive me and that I will always love you forever. I walked away, and didn't look back. ...read more.

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