Britney Cheng Chapter 1 Creative Writing

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Britney Cheng -- Chapter One Creative Writing Swiping to the left, nail art photos appear one by one like Victoria’s Secret models’ cat walking, on the runway of my iPad. What design should I put on the little platform on my fingertips next? I’ve been doing this over and over again for ten years non-stop, ideas were drying up like a drop of water in the desert. Brushing my fingers through my wall of nail polish, I tried to pick my next vivid shovel to bury my anxiety of what’s underneath my nail bed. The dark symbols, scribbles Colours are so vibrant, cheerful that I think I could use it for forever to cover up my nails, cover up my sorrow. Filing my nails down has also become my routine before I mask them. I want to minimise the area. …show more content…

I gazed blankly out through the old-wooden windows, then continue leaning forward to the coffee table, painting my other hand. Every once in a while when I’m painting my nails, I would think of my mother, think of the mystery that was not yet solved. “Cover it up with gloves, don’t let it show, don’t let them see and don’t you peek.” My mother’s voice sneaked into my mind, she even made it roll off the tongue well, so I could remember as if I was 12 again. Covering my hands was only necessary when the symbols show up on my nails. My mother would just write a note to the teacher saying I have an allergy and the gloves had treatment in. Taking my gloves off during that time would make me end up suffocating like people that are allergic to peanut. At least all of my teachers believed it. I still don’t get why I couldn't look at the symbols though. Moreover, I will never know without me solving it by myself. Since the only member of the family, my mother had passed away when I was nearly turning 14. “Always remember, my dearest, ” she pointed at my hands that were covered with gloves while lying on the pure white bed with needles in her wrist. “curiosity killed the cat.” Soon after, she left me to this puzzle all on my …show more content…

I took a look who is calling, it is Chelsea! She moved to Brazil two years ago, is she in England now? “Hey, Chel! Are you in Liverpool? What wind brought you here?” “Long time no see! I just arrived, surprise! I am coming for a holiday. Let’s go and grab a drink! We haven’t been in touch for so long.” I knew Chelsea since I was 12, she was the only girl that was friendly to me, even without knowing the reason why I had my gloves on so often. Every other girl thought I was strange and spread out the rumour about me having a disease that’s contagious, but Chelsea doesn’t seem to mind at

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