The Waiting Room- Creative Writing

The waiting room was still and quiet except for the hypnotic tick of

the old plastic clock hanging on the wall. A smell evoking images of

latex gloves and mouthwash hung in the air, as the dentist worked

behind the closed door. The little boy across the room fidgeted

uncontrollably while his mother chose to ignore it. Her face was drawn

and pale. Her hands were placed on top of her lap and she wrung them

continuously. She wore baggy red patterned trousers, a multi-coloured

striped jumper and on her head was a faded red bandana, firmly sealed

over a mass of scruffy brown curls. The child’s brown hair stuck out

in all directions. His coat was dated, his tracksuit bottoms gathered

around his ankles, and his black shoes hung of his feet with the

frayed laces draping downwards.

The white washed walls in the waiting room revealed not a spot of

dirt. The navy carpet was woven and the red seats were covered in a

plastic ‘ wipe clean’ material. Eyes delivered across to the large

wooden door as the silver handle turned. The door creaked open and out

stepped the dental nurse. She was young, tall and slight. Her ponytail

hung over one shoulder, her cheeks were blushed red, mascara made her

eyelashes look like spiders legs and her lips were tinted pink. The

nurse looked down to her note pad and called, “Miss Mines, if you’d

like to come through, the dentist is ready.” The lady with the odd

attire stood up and with her little boy in tow, took a deep breath and

walked slowly towards the door.

The door to the dentist’s room quietly shut and whispers swept across

the waiting room.

“Did you see the state of that little boy, how could his mother...

... middle of paper ...

... way up the eleven floors to their flat. They paced themselves as

they made the long journey up the stairs. The little boy stopped at

every floor and looked out of the window and watched the city move

further away from him. On the seventh floor the lady also took a

glance. She looked down towards the park and noticed that the mothers

and their children were still there, for once she was bigger than

them, they were just little ants. She imagined the homes to which they

would return. Cosy coffee mornings and a trip around “Sainsburys”

before preparing their husbands evening meals with the latest

mouth-watering treats from “Jamie Oliver”. After a five-minute trek up

the eleven floors, they reached their flat. The mother opened the door

and looked in. She gently guarded the child inside before shutting the

door behind her.