Learning...

We are learning in my creative writing class how to write imagery that the reader can taste, feel, hear, smell and almost touch. This is my short piece I presented for my creative writing class today.




The Brown Pontiac




I am in the brown Pontiac sitting at the airport watching planes land. I am in the backseat, alone, but being alone has never bothered me. This Pontiac only has two doors, but they are really long ones that extend almost to the back seat. The windows are rolled down and my head is wedged between the front seat head rest and the window frame, with my eyes wide, and fixed straight toward the skies. I am waiting for the next airplane to take me away. The incoming planes are so low, I could reach up and stroke its belly, but the thrill of the vibrations is enough to sustain me. I am six years old, and I am free as a bird!




It is night time, the air is August thick and is mysterious with the orange glow from the runway lights. My mom and dad are in the front seat, smoking Pall Mall reds. The car is smokey and the air is filled with the scent of jet fuel pressing against every sense I have; I cough without noticing. My parents are happy, they're laughing and flirting and saying things they think my young ears don't understand. It was before they declared war on each other; and it was before I declared war on myself. This night is better than chocolate milk and doughnuts, and I never want to leave.