Creative Writing - English Language

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Creative Writing English

The child ran tirelessly: exuberant and relentless, he drove on, edging nearer and nearer to flailing ribbon tied to the hem of the dress of the girl in front. Bare feet pounded on the scorched, dry mud and uneven grass - that would have normally inhibited his progress in running - he stretched his arms, almost reaching the prize. He scathed the ribbon with his fingertips but the girl snaked to her left, dodging a tree with a slight skip, and was out of his reach once more. The boy cursed at his misfortune and stalled to a halt almost colliding with the tree. He instantly set off again after her in hope to gain ground that he lost. He looked her ahead; her waist-deep hair flowed from side to side almost hypnotically, glinting black diamonds in the noon sun. Her ruby coloured sandals were held firmly in her left hand, bobbing up down and down to the motions of her arm. The boy shook his head; I shouldn’t be distracted, he thought, attempting to focus his attention in ending the game. He added a burst of speed and closed the gap between him, the girl and ultimately the ribbon.

The two merrily ran on through the park, weaving and dodging the bushes, trees and anything else in their way that was peppered randomly throughout the landscape. They dared not use the paths in fear of any shards of glass that could potentially cut their feet so they resided on the grass that was so sparse proved to be more earth than grass. The few people that happened to be in the park, the ones who braved the unforgiving might of the early-afternoon sun for some peace and quiet, watched the duo with meek interest. An assemblage of elderly men dressed in gold robes and decorative hats sat on uniformed benches, overlooking the sordid scenery of the village several miles away. They were congregated in a small talk of which wood makes the best walking sticks while the remarkable few that did not limp and not require such implements, sat in silence puffing ancient pipes, onerously checking their watches for the start of the next prayer. A delightful minority of the men laughed when they saw the girl and boy running past; the grumbled majority either stopped talking or paused smoking in mid-drag to shout at the two objectively only to be rightly ignored. They resumed their ways, muttering to one another on the ignorance of today’s youth as a condolence to their egos.  

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With grim determination, the boy neared the girl once again. It had taken two minutes but he was closer than ever; she was quicker than he last remembered but as he anticipated, she was quickly tiring. Within inches of her, he reached once more. His arms strained from their joints, almost within reach of winning this little bout. The ribbon tingled in the sunlight, swaying in the air enticingly, pleading to be taken. It’s calling my name, he thought with a smile.

His right leg buckled as his foot hit a precarious yet well hidden pothole ...

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