Goals:- *To use variety of sentences to create effect in my writing
*To add more details in my writing by using descriptive words, simile and metaphor.
Underline is Adjectives/Describing words
A little girl, around the age of eight. Knew too much for her age. Her eyes were dark, that mingled with a brown halo that circled both eyes, and thick, eyelashes, beautifully curved on the edge of her big round eyes. Her face structure, was posed in a straight long position. High-cheek bones, with a chipmunks cheeks when she flash a smile. And juicy, curvy lips like a average girl. That were fairly pink. And their was a scar, mysteriously place beneath her bottom lip.
Making their arrival to level six, as her older brother, 3 years apart dragged her along the way, while her eldest cousin of her generation lead the way. Was exhausting, she didn't take orders. She was fairly a independent girl.
Her cousin was happily married with one child who was spoil rotten and she was healthy as an ox. She knew where they were going, but didn't want to admit.
The marble floor were polished and shiny, and the walls were replace with new paint. The colour of pure white. Walking past the, glass bridge. She swallowed hard, not even blinking. Once.
"No" Looking at the door, label in her fathers name. She glanced at her brother, his hands were sweaty and warm. He gripped tighter, but it wasn't the time to complain.
She finally pushed her way through, breaking the awkward silence. She gasped, in pain. As she met her fathers eyes. Two of her older siblings, male and female. Both shared this concern look, their eyes were tired and puffy. The oldest, her brother. Seem to be lost in his own world and for her sister, she quietly bowed her head. Staring at her shoes.
Her sleek brown hair, was close enough to be black. It sweep over one eye, modelling a depressed young girl.
Then she turned away, facing to her father. "Daddy" she whispered softly.
No one did or hesitate or move, nothing.
She wondered, what it was like, to spend your last dying mintures on earth. Too slowly vanish. In seconds he would be gone, no longer existing. Just another empty soul. Gone.
She placed her head, on his dying chest, remaining calm. She didn't want to hurt him, by crying and weeping. But left part of her, with him. Leaving a single tear drop.
Everyone surround her, were filled with sympathy and pity. He fought hard, but not hard enough.
He was speechless, not even able to say her last dying words. But his dying wish were to see what his children would become. But she didn't even know, but picked up the first thing in her head. "Lawyer" but her passion was with drawing and writing.
Suddenly, his eyes tighten. She grip on his arm, and he let go.
His eyes closed. Then everything changed. She was carried out, crying aggressively, at the same time, abandoning the sight of her father. Sobbing, stuttering "Why? why?"
Before she left, she saw him again. His body was frozen, stuck in time. Growth stopped, everything stopped. Cancer has won, and grown in him. Like a seed that has grown and exploded and pieces of that seed, stuck and planted a poisoning on his body. Spreading like a contagious virus.
She bowed her head, as the flood of tears, dripping like rain-drops, falling down on the floor as if the floor was our world. She was angry at everyone, depressed like if she fell in a dark hole, with no sunshine, no rainbows or so. She felt Gloomy and strange, feeling scared as anxiety was drowning her away. And she, was gone.
Emotions won, a new scar to never be remove. But a new pain to bear.
"How can I even love him? He's dead, DADDY'S DEAD! Why does it, have to happen to me." There was no pretending any more, she already identified what's authentic and fake, whats real or not. Lied too, again. Like how politics do, to convincing people to join them.
But instead, it was her family. Nothing is okay, nothing is alright. She forgotten the good days and now remember the bad days.
The most painful thing to do is put a smile on, when nothing is okay.
A broken smile or a broken heart.
You chose.
Author Note:
Story is based on my life as a little girl, my prospected of seeing things. I have finally come to an understanding of the loss of someone. This is what I felt like as an eight years old, knowing that I knew too much. At the time, I guarantee that I knew more than any nine or 10 and 11 years olds at that time. I swear. I didn't believe in Santa, the Easter bunny or even the tooth fairy. Their were made up, my childhood was robbed from me, by pain and knowledge. I usually laugh at things that had actual humor rather then laughing constantly at anything like a 8 years old, when I was 8 I acted like a 10 years-old well-behave girl. And I felt for teachers who were pulling their hair out because of pupils in my class/year who will talk or laugh purposely to frustrate the teacher. And worried about my mother, knowing she had to pay for the bills and the rent, food and extra things because of my school and taxes.
But I still intend to act in childish ways, until.. I reach the age of maturity.
I may be a twelwefy, but I know my... STUFF....
P.S: I hope you enjoyed!
