Essay on Creative Writing: Trapped!

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She almost floated across the empty, box-like room. A cold shiver
relentlessly weaved its way down Emma’s spine as she ran her bony hand
down the bleak wall. The fireplace glared at her – its mouth opened
wide. The unfamiliar surroundings struck her as if forcing themselves
against her weak body –engulfing her. A soft breeze seething its way
into the room from the uneven cracks underneath the door meant that
the desolate room of openness had become filled with the sigh of the
wind. It was as if it was crying, almost howling for its voice to be

The young girl slowly ebbed towards the corner of the room. Something
had caught her eye – perhaps a sense of relief from the horrible
imaginings that had been taking place the night before. She shook the
disturbing thought from her head, turned to the mirror and gazed into
the blankness. The reflection of an old withered plant squatting in
the midst became apparent. The faint hint of colour brought a sense of
calm about the room. However as she peered even closer, its branches
and leaves had become warped – twisted with fear. It was as if this
dying plant was desperately reaching out to her. A silent plea.

Emma looked down at the floor, at her old nightgown. Memories
literally flooded her; memories of when she was a little girl and how
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
of her drunken father - coming in the house late at night, only to hit
her mother and make her cry; memories of the countless men who abused
her - emotionally, physically, in every way imaginable; and a wave of
realisation washed over her. "Nothing… I have nothin...

... middle of paper ...

...tep Emma made her way towards
the back door. Each second seemed to last a lifetime. Shadows crawled
over her half-closed eyelids and a small tremor shook her body. She
thought about her mother, holding bravely onto her own sense of pride.

In her frightened haze, she hardly noticed the light snow that had
begun to fall outside. As she stepped onto the porch, the icy cold air
graced her skin and she breathed deeply, inhaling the coolness of a
winter’s morning on the breeze. To Emma, the cold was strangely
comforting. When the snow and silver finally settled to the ground,
two white doves - wings tipped with silver and eyes flashing, emerged
and flew in a spiral towards the moonlit sky. Before fading from view,
a bright glow began to surround their bodies and they disappeared in a
blinding flash of light. Emma had gone.

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