Creative Writing On Marigolds

I stared at the ground, my eyes rested. I shook my head as I saw it. It was all ruined. My marigolds are all ruined. My beauty was ruined. I wish it was a dream. What did I do to deserve this?

I sat inside my run down living room, the walls corroded and old. I was able to hear my son, John Burke, rocking in his chair outside. The sound of the chair was constant, John rarely ever moved from that chair. The noises from it still brought me a bit of comfort. As I thought about the outdoors, I was suddenly reminded to go and water my marigolds outside. A slight smile formed on my face, I loved my marigolds. Watering them was my favorite part of the day, they were so beautiful in contrast to this decaying area. I stood up from the couch, using my cane, and opened my backyard door, the door making a loud screeching noise as I did so. I

I was exhausted from the previous encounter, I wanted to go to sleep early. I walked over to my room, my back a bit hunched over. I laid down in my barely functional bed, the bed creaking as soon as I put even the smallest amount of pressure on the ripped up mattress. I felt my gaze softening and my eyes shutting more and more until I fell asleep. I was able to hear crying and loud sobs from outside, the loud noise waking me up. I slowly opened my eyes, the thin walls did not help with blocking out any of the sound, almost forcing me to go check. I got up and was barely able to stand up completely, my legs a bit tired as I walked out of my room and to the backyard door, yawning as I leaned on my cane before continuing to walk. I felt my heart stop as I turned around, everything beautiful I had created was all gone. I rubbed my eyes before looking back, bewildered by the sight. I wasn’t even angry, just disappointed. I walked over behind the girl who was uprooting the last of my happiness. It was already destroyed, there was no point in trying to pull her