Right so i just was just casually scavenging through the unorginanised mess i like to call my USB, because i do happen to start one of the most important years of my education in about a week and stumbled across a masterpiece. In year 9 i had decided to join a creative writing club run in a random community hall. This was purely based on the fact that i was fighting with my friends and i wanted some new ones. Anyways the first “assignment” was to write a piece of work from an authour who was trying way to hard to sound smart. Sounds weird right thats because it was. There’s a reason i only attend twice. Anyway i found my half finished assignment and i thought it was pretty fucking horrible and so i thought i should enlighten you on how amazing my 13 year old selfs creative writing skills were. I’m pretty sure i didn’t even have a plot for this, but here we go Trying 2 hard #1:
She tugged on her skirt and wrapped her second-hand cardigan over her shoulder as she approached the flat. Hesitating, she scavenged round her bag till she heard the familiar jingle of her keys hidden under the masses of unfinished coursework and empty Irn Bru cans. As entered, she ignored the foreign heels lying still on the wooden floor and rushed to the bathroom where she wiped away the remains of the makeup she applied lazily in the morning. Straightening the photo frame, the Scotts had received as a last-minute Christmas present from their estranged uncle, she made her way to the cosy living room to find her father lying motionless on the worn sofa. “Training, dad” she muttered as she probed his back. Her father responded groaning and turning his body to face his worried daughter, only to be disturbed by the groaning of door hinge. “oh, um hi, sorry drew told me there was no-one home” murmured a petite girl wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that clearly didn’t belong to her. “It’s okay, Drew says a lot of things. Coffee?” she queried pivoting her body towards the kitchen. “Um, it’s okay I’ll just head home” replied the girl quietly as she grabbed her heels and slowly closed the door.
“Oh good she’s gone, I thought she’d never leave” she rolled her eyes at the stupidity of her brother and wondering to herself how she could have possibly shared a womb with him for 9 months and resisted the urge to strangle him. She opened the cupboard trying her hardest not to pick up the bundle of letters with the words “URGENT” and “FINAL NOTICE” emblazed on them. However hard she tried the letter always ended up cushioned in her hands. “not this time” she chanted mentally, not long before she gave into the temptation and grabbed them from the table, however they were firmly snatched from her hand and was currently on the receiving end of a glare given by her father who only uttered the words “Not your problem” before storming off to his bedroom. “told you so” she turned to her brother who was drinking the coffee she prepared. “shut up” was the only retort she could muster advancing to her respective bedroom.
She got changed into her pale-yellow uniform that stopped just above the knee with the word “Duke’s” embroidered on the top left corner and left the flat with only an apple in hand. Hallywell estate is not the most scenic place in London. It’s what real estate agents would describe as vibrant; however, it was all she knew. The clean quiet streets of Chelsea intimidated her more than a clique of teenagers with bandannas around their faces claiming they’ll shank you. She ran after the number 10 bus and sat on the worn bus seat, picking the frayed threads that stuck out. She placed her headphones on when she cringed at the sound of Ushers best hits on full blast filled her ears before she decided today may not be the best day to lose her hearing and turned it down. With the soothing sound of confessions, she continued to stare out the window like the love interest in an Adele music video. However, for once in her life she wasn’t heartbroken. She was done crying over ex-boyfriends. These are supposed to be the best years of her life, why bother spending it over some hormonal teenager harbouring commitment issues. With a smile plastered on her face, she watched the rain pour down on the busy London streets, till she saw the bright red sign spelling out the Dukes in a cursive font illuminating the dim streets of East London.
“You’re early” was the greeting she receives from the dishevelled slouched figure that was currently leaning over the newly fitted marble table. “You’re are too” she watches his broad grin gradually fade into a humourless gaze “Just wanted to get out the house for a bit”. She offered him a small smile and realizing that this was not the best time to have a heart to heart both headed to kitchen. There they found a small group dressed in a familiar pale yellow huddled around in a circle, discussing the matter of the possibility of rats that may or may not be inhabiting the small corners of the restaurant. The pair laboured for the next 5 hours waiting tables and keeping up a polite façade as best as they could.
After a small bus ride, home she walked home with the towering ginger beside her. “you work too hard” she hears him say and retorted a simple “what and you don’t.” The pair giggled and discussed how their life had been shaped this way. 6 hours of sixth form then a 4-hour shift and then going home to cook dinner for the ungrateful. Both coming from motherless homes the need to be domesticated was compelling and fortunately both had picked up skills from their jobs for the families to survive.
So yeah thats an extremely dull page and a half of me describing a girl going home, making coffee, taking the bus and meeting and talking to her collegues. I can already see it as a bestseller can’t you?