Holidays - creative writing.

The first 200 words of this essay...

Holidays

I was waiting by the gate, a deep brown gate. I could still smell the fresh paint, smooth and silky against my wandering fingers. It let out a squeak as I opened it. I swung it back and forth for a few moments making a mental note to oil it later. I moved forwards, closing the gate behind me. I leant against one of the trees, its bright green leaves blowing gently in the soft wind, a beautiful contrast against the brilliant blue cloudless sky. I tore off one of its leaves, filling its smooth rubberises between my fingers. I moved it to my forehead, gliding across my temple, down the bridge of my nose, leaving a fresh scent wherever it touched my skin. Against my lips, cool. Refreshing. Down my chin, neck seamlessly slipping then dropping from the grasp of my fingers, falling to my feet in the wind control turning over, and over again.

It was early morning. The neighbourhood was almost silent, unmoving. Letting loose an inner feeling of peace. The only disturbance came from a few birds who from time to time, flew from tree to tree, all the while singing