Creative Writing: Revenge

Minute after minute the phone had rang in both rooms as people young

and old, had paid their mourning respects. The room had been in utter

silence, it had been as if the phone had been demanding someone pick

it up. It had become very irritating for most of us. I had seen the

anger rising up in my uncle, as he has an extremely short temper. He

had been trying to clear the furniture out of the front and living

room.

For everyone in my family, it had been an occasion they had never

experienced before, in their lives. Every person in my family, who was

in our house at that time, had swollen red eyes from crying, and dark

circles from being awake most of that night. When I had heard about

what had happened, a big lump had slowly started to form in my throat.

A lump I could not swallow, a lump that would not let me talk and sent

me into a deep remembrance of my past memories that I had shared with

my granddad. As everyone in the room had been silent, the only thing

that had brought me back to reality had been the shrieks of the

telephone.

I had been helping my uncle in the dining room, as we emptied out the

front and living room furniture. The whole dining room had looked

gloomy, as usually the light would have been beaming in through the

glass doors, as bright as a hot summer’s day. We had cleared all the

furniture, except for the big, white, u-shaped sofas in both rooms

that we could not get through the doors, which as a result of, my

uncle had decided to leave it there.

When we had finished, my uncle had gone and sat in the front room with

my dad and all the other men, who had been grieving for my beloved

granddad. Then I had been alone with nothing to do. I had looked out

into the long corridor. It had felt so empty, as if all my insides had