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Creative Writing Essay

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Introduction

Creative Writing Essay It's raining. The dribbles down the window tell me there won't be play time today. I look round the corner of mum's room, to see her lying; white as her sheets, in a puddle of red blood on the floor, a blood-spattered, metal torch was lying a few feet away from her. I walk over to where she's curled up, her hair is messy - all over her face - and her face is pale. Her chubby lips are blue and cracked. I kneel down and lie next to her cold body, and fold her limp arms around me. I just want a hug, but she's dead. I whisper into her ear, 'I love you, mum.' I see her lips, sort of, twitch, almost making a smile. But maybe, maybe I imagined it. I fiddle with her pretty earring, shiny and silver - a bird - it's the one I gave her for Christmas. I go round its little wing with my finger-nail; it looks like a robin, the ones with the red chests. I think they're funny looking, but they're her favourite type. I hold her finger tightly in my fist, bending it, just for fun. Then I hug her tight; her blood was turning my t-shirt red, but she's not around to tell me off anymore. ...read more.

Middle

When I got to my mum's room (she sleeps downstairs) I pushed open the door to see her lying fast asleep on the bed. I went back to turn off the television, but it took me a while to find the remote; it was hidden under the sofa. I went into mum's room again, to turn off the light, and that's when it happened. I didn't even notice he was there before. My torch was on the floor, but still, I don't know how I'd missed him. He went towards her; he had a big pair of scissors in his hand. I wasn't sure what to do. He was holding them from the handle. That was wrong. You're not supposed to hold them by the handle when you walk. You're meant to hold them by the pointy bit, so you don't poke someone's eye out. I tried to call him, or to wake up mum, I don't remember. But my voice wouldn't work. It just wouldn't come out. I still don't understand why. It was sort of stuck, in my throat, like when you have too many chocolate biscuits, or something really sticky. I watched him put his hand over her mouth. Why would she say anything if she was sleeping? He started to pull off her pyjamas. ...read more.

Conclusion

How would I know? I didn't want to ruin the game. After watching her cheek change colour he put the lighter down and climbed up on the bed so he was sort of kneeling right over her. He didn't seem very strong. He had sort of skinny arms and legs like me. But then he put his hands on her neck. I thought he was going to hug her, or say sorry or something. But he started to squeeze. I didn't like it. I didn't like the way his knuckles went white as his hands squeezed her neck and when he laughed. I didn't like the sound it made when she hit the floor. She screamed really loudly, it hurt my ears. She saw me, and tried to make me go away, I shouldn't have been there, but couldn't leave, I felt as though I was stuck to the floor, just watching him rip at her, but not doing anything. He never even looked at me. Fat teardrops were rolling out of her eyes. She looked upset. "Why are you crying, mum?" I asked. I felt confused. Why was she crying? I thought it was just a game, I didn't do anything! She wouldn't stop. He lips were turning blue and her face was going white as he kept squeezing. What was happening? He needed to stop squeezing her neck, I knew that. But I couldn't do anything. I did want to, really I did. ...read more.

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