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Conscience - personal creative writing.

Extracts from this document...

Introduction

Conscience He was dressed in a sluggish grey-green coat with dull checks. It reflected his character like a murky pond and the story he was feeding me smelt the same. I didn't like his attitude. The way he leered at me with his nicotine yellow teeth and thin sharp lips. It made me feel really uncomfortable. Like I shouldn't be there. I'd forgotten, as usual that I wasn't invited. I noticed that as he repeated himself his gnarled fingers were ever whitening at the knuckles. His hair was greased back off his face as if he'd put a vat full of chip fat on it. It made him look slimy and manipulating. If he'd been a well dressed man with a polite attitude I would not have given a second thought to his wife's suicide. The man in front of me was showing no sign of remorse, not even the slightest bit of sadness. The emotions that float in the air catching normal people unawares must either bounce off his highly polished forehead or slide down the nape of his neck. ...read more.

Middle

Granted, his nose may be slightly out of proportion but the ocean blue colour of his eyes! Deep, full with care yet not deep enough to hide his soul. He told me he would take the bookends off for dusting and get back to me. I couldn't help but stare as he swaggered away in his own original style. The swagger that leaves all girls stranded... Waking my self up I walked back to the beetle red settee where Mr Harrison was lounging. I was sitting on the arm of the chair, trying to spot an intelligent comment from the ones reflected in his mirror forehead. I persuaded him to tell me a bit about his wife appearance. According to him she was of medium height, hourglass figure and full it the face. He got out a photo of her. She was really pretty. Her hair was sandy and fly away with dark brown eyes and full lips. The complete opposite of her husband. That then began to arouse my suspicions of her playing away. ...read more.

Conclusion

The other part shadowy and ghost like yet remarkably there. It churns my heart to see these things. From somewhere in amongst the churning it became clear that this fellow might know something. I strolled over as casually as I could muster in the below zero temperature and crouched down beside him. His face was like a canvas of war; his eyes hollow and lifeless. This guy didn't have a single dream or hope left to hang on to in the great pendulum of life. He'd let go just waiting for it to hit him on its inevitable return swing. He showed an utter disgust towards me once I'd told him I was a detective. It made my job really hard. I had started off with a gentle motherly tone but I soon lost it to the wind. What is the point in trying to give these people respect if they judge you on face value and smell of dustbins and public toilets. He assured me that he was awake at the time I quoted and heard no scream. I hurried away as quickly as I could leaving him to mutter under his breath. Sheena Robinson English Coursework 30/04/2007 1 ...read more.

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