Page 43 - 2024-2025 Creative Writing

Descriptive writings

A short journey you make often.

Fleeting shadows of birds in flight flittered in front of me, crossing the pavement and

into a swaying party of trees. My eyes quickly shifted to my grandma’s golden wristwatch; I let
out a sigh of relief, knowing that I won’t be late this time.

The usually bustling French street is in solitude today with just a few vivacious kids playing a

game of tag, and it’s probably because of the parade that sucks in all the adults for a night-long
dance. As if responding to my dreadful thought of my never ending night shift at the café and not

being able to dance till my feet are sore, the streetlights flickered repeatedly, sending shivers down

my spine, as I try my best to keep walking in the moments of complete darkness. Fortunately, the

moon appeared gracefully from the back of a cotton-white cloud, blessing me with its silver ray of
light. The black canvas-like sky, splattered with pearly dots of stars looks down on me, almost

mockingly, as if its vastness holds secrets I’ll never grasp. So, I stop in my tracks to take in the

beauty of the nature that surrounds me, and take a deep breath while closing my eyes. Wind stirs
amongst the trees, along the stone sidewalk on which I’m walking, flying up to my cheeks and

gently brushing against them, as if trying to reassure me that I’ll be just fine. A pungent aroma of

mixed up fragrances comes bursting out of the perfume store beside me, as one of their employees

opens the window. There’s probably hundreds of perfumes fused together in this one heap of air,
and so, a bitter taste of flowers and chemicals lingers on my tongue, making me queasy.

A rushing car honks loudly at the cinnamon-colored tabby cat, making it shriek in pure terror as it

hardly manages to get to the other side, where the citizens live alongside to the line of stores and
cafes. The stone pavement started to get dotted with gray spots, and I realized that it was going to

rain heavily any moment now. Panicking, I looked around; the old beige houses with fancy

balconies, to the exquisite lined stores of pastel brick walls beside me. I start to run; my vision a
blurry rush of black and beige, with huge light-like spots and halos flying everywhere, and

raindrops starting to glide down my face. My clothes are now soaking wet, and the pitter-patters

of the rain drains my thoughts. Like a reward, the sweet aroma of vanilla hits my nose, letting me
know that I have arrived.

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