The Great Gatsby Creative Writing

Creative:

Bloodshot eyes. Sunken cheeks. Chattering teeth. Shaking hands. He despised the cold. Yet winter had fallen in the streets of New York city. His thin jumper and tatty jeans did a terrible job of keeping him warm. Icy winds still bit at his skin as if his threadbare clothing wasn’t even there. They were useless for the purpose they were needed for.

His hand found his pocket, the few coins ‘jangling’ loudy in the calm quietness of the snowy night. He counted them in the palm of his hand, 10⊄, 50⊄, 60⊄. Finally his tired, deprived brain came up with the total $3.50. Maybe that would buy him some food to last the week. Either way, he knew he would have to scavenge for more. Begging people for money was not beneath him, then again

Suddenly everyone would have been watching front and centre, screaming for justice, when they knew nothing of the word. Condemning him for his life, his choices and most of all his mistakes. Suddenly the world would care. They all loved to believe that they weren’t part of the problem.

He longed to feel the warmth of home cooked food pooling in his stomach. To curl up by a flaming hearth and bathe in the loving warmth that it surrendered. But most of all he yearned to feel the softness of a pillow, rather than hard, damp concrete.

Despite the somewhat comforting warmth of his sleeping bag, his hands continued to shake. Fingers twitching. Teeth chattering. Feet tingling. He rocked back and forth, his head bobbing to an imaginary tune. A whirlwind of emotions and fanciful thoughts overtaking his fleeting consciousness. He wondered when the blackness of the night had transformed to fluorescent blues and greens. His stomach lurched as the brightly coloured world spun uncontrollably. It was as if he was back on a nauseating theme park ride from his

Although the colours only seemed to intensify. Brighter and bolder, the next big hit. His pupils were blown wide, almost cat like in appearance. His head twisted rapidly as he desperately tried to take in this new reality. Beautiful butterflies exploded into his field of vision. His mind knew they couldn’t be real. But his heart longed for something whimsical to distract it from the harshness of everything else.

Thousands of bright butterflies coaxing him to follow them. To escape his sad, worth nothing life. The farcicality of the situation did not register in his overwhelmed mind. He dazedly followed the colours and the whispers out onto the snowy street. The colours an amazing contrast with the starkness of the snow, the icy road shining in the cool moonlight. He wandered out onto the tarmac, completely entranced by everything around him.

He was disturbed. Too far gone inside his own head to notice the shining headlights, or the roaring engine becoming rapidly louder. He barely felt the impact. He adored feeling like he was flying, the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced, even though it was only for a very brief second. His world invaded by inky blackness. He felt