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Creative and Descriptive Writing - Essay Example

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Summary
The paper "Creative and Descriptive Writing" tells that the children were the company either of their parents or friends. Those in the company of friends walked closer to the shops as they noticed every item. Most of them asked each other questions and requested explanations about what they saw…
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Extract of sample "Creative and Descriptive Writing"

Part 1: Sensory Perception

The time is six in the evening. I am slowly walking down a busy street as I look for a cool place to settle. Just across the street, there is a vacant bench. “Why don’t I sit here?” I asked myself. This was an ideal setting because it created a wide window through which I could observe the crowded street. As I noticed, this was the time when people had left their jobs to walk back home. Most people were using this evening to meet friends and socialize. Others just came out to buy foodstuff from the shops along the street. I was very keen to observe the behaviors of various categories of individuals.

The children were the company either of their parents or their friends. Those in the company of friends walked closely to the shops as they took notice of every item that seemed new or strange to them. Most of them asked each other questions and requested for explanations about what they saw. From far, I could hear them laugh in unison at something unknown to me. Some engaged one another in running games. At one point, I heard them sing in tiny tones like birds in the sky. Still, I could not understand what was making these children jovial and playful. Then I remembered the beautiful sunset and my heart became happy too. I looked at sinking sun again, and it was yellow. No, it was golden! The cloud around the sun had stolen the very color from it. I wished I could signal the sun about this theft. This cloud was becoming notorious as it drinks the golden color of the sun daily. I stared helplessly as I began to dream about life in the sky. As I watched birds sing and fly towards the sunset, I closed my eyes and desperately longed for wings. I would be as happy as the little children I see in the street. I would fly and spend my night in the beautiful house of the sun.

Most of the parents, I observed, tightly held the hands of their children. I noted that this category of children were not as happy as those without parents were. They frequently stopped to admire their fellows playing. “How does the company of their parents infringe their freedom?” I asked myself. I thought these children could have been the happiest of all because of the security offered by the parents. However, this was not the case here. They wanted something more than security. They needed to be free and fly like the birds in the sky. One thing that these children had not realized is that we were all born free, but will always walk in bondage.

Taking away my mind from the fantasy of the sun and the angelic children, I caught a glimpse of the adolescents walking up and down the street. They were never in a hurry at all. They shared common stories as they slowly walked in and out of a few shops along the street. They walked, talked, hugged, and laughed as if they still had hundreds of years to live. While the little children thought they could fly, the youth thought they could live forever. “If I were given a chance to be either, I would choose to be a child and fly with the sun,” I meditated.

Part 2: A Person from Memory

Today, as the sun sets in the west and birds sing in appreciation for the day that has been, I can only remember my cousin, Bernard Brooks. We had spent a lot of time together, but now he is gone. Death is cruel. Since then, my eyes have become a sea of tears as I wail day and night.

Bernard Brooks, as simple as he looked, was a man full of kindness and joy. No one would stay with Brooks and miss a glance of that sunrise smile; not even the blind. His warm character enabled him to keep many good friends around him and turned the enemies into friends. The unfailing kindness that freely emanated from the deepest of his heart made many less fortunate persons in the society to taste the sweet fruit of his personality.

Until his sudden death, Brooks had been serving in the US Army. He was very much humbled to play such a patriotic role for his beloved nation. Brooks started his career at the US Army as a service man. His consistent dedication and dynamism was witnessed by his leaders and was, therefore, rewarded with promotion to a higher rank of Brigade, in appreciation for his loyalty and hard work. If you think the rising of Brooks stopped there then know you are wrong. He continued to climb the ladder with each rising of the sun. Upon the successful pursuit and completion of Bachelor of Military Sciences at the Ohio Military School, Brooks became a commissioned officer and used his authority to improve the military services. His career in the US Army enhanced his protective and caring personality that enabled him to take good care of his family and friends.

At the time when President John Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, Brooks was born. So lucky a kid he was to be the first born in a family of four. Brook’s two brothers, Jack and Jill, have built their families upon the framework his mentorship. The sweet memories of their elder brother have always lit a candle in their hearts. He used to treat friends and family members like an angels on earth. When his father finally departed from this world, Brooks steadily battled the Goliaths of life and ensured that the family stuck together. I remember him encouraging me to work hard in life. I promised him to work very hard and make him proud of me. I have attained this level of education because of his inspirations. I know he looks down from heaven every morning with a smile on his face; he stretches his invisible arm and pats my back. Brooks is here.

Part 3: Narration of a Past Event

It is now five years since that fateful day, yet the memory is crystal-clear in my mind. I remember falling down from my bicycle while riding at a high speed. I did not know that it was going to be the last moment I saw myself. The events that followed were an endless journey into a supernatural world. I saw death from far, ugly and beckoning. I saw God and touched His angels. His son, Jesus, stood just on my right side. I saw other spiritual creatures I could not fathom.

The shape and nature of death lays in the imagination to date. As it walked towards me, I saw a sketchy being with an emaciated body. It lacked the usual head. Instead, a scary skull was in the place of the head. The rest of its morphology was also indistinguishable. Death was not fitted with various parts of the body; neither did it have the joints. It was that ambiguous and mysterious.

Behind death was a huge monster. Its head heavily rested on the orb of the sun. Its feet rested on earth. The bigger part of his body covered the better part of the earth. The Garden of Eden was right within his home range and territory. It had a prominent tail, extra nails on his heels and horns on the head. The existence of horns and extra nails depicted the monster as a typical beast. This beast was very furious and did not seem to spare its preys at all. It took one more step towards me, and I saw his wings. It flapped them vigorously and loudly. I fell down in fear. “He is here to obtain his prey and deliver it to hell”, I thought to myself. From a distance, I could easily smell the stench from hell. This monster too was very unclean and smelled a whiff of Sulfur. I tightly held the legs of the son of God as the beast approaches. I was crying out loudly. I was losing my voice.

Suddenly I heard the voice: “Behold, the angels of God”. The angels had wings to fly as fast as possible. They were Raphael and Gabriel. Gabriel fought diligently to protect me from being taken to hell by the monster. My heart was beating so hard, almost getting out of my chest as I witnessed the struggle for my soul. The monster was very huge, and looked stronger than the two angels did. Meanwhile, Death was creeping slowly from my behind. It held my foot with a firm grip. “I am dead!” I cried.

“Wake up son. Please wake up”. It was the voice of my mother. I miraculously opened my eyes to find her beside my bed in the hospital. She stroked my hair with a sigh of relief. “You have been in a coma son. Am grateful to God you are still alive”, she said with tears in her eyes, “death spared you”. “Did it spare my bicycle too?” I asked her.

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