Favorite Person Snapshot (Creative Writing)

Wind wipped through my hair, tossing it in all sorts of helter-skelter directions. I drug my feet leasurely across the mulch, diggin brown colored muck up from the forgotten ground below. My grandmother sat opposite me, barely holding on to the metal bench, paint chipped and diseases with the smell of rust. It was so prominent I tasted it on the roof of my mouth. But she made that bench beautiful, adding the sight of her never-graying curls, and wrinkled, sun-dyed skin. Her legs were crossed at the knee, and her head was high in confidence. She could have sat there ruling the world without ever having to lift a finger. She spoke of something that I've long forgotten, her voice dampened by the blurps and gurgles of the pond water, cascading over rocks and algae. Trees stood above us, watching us, letting their leaves drift into our laps, and caress our cheeks on their journey to the ground. Everything was perfect, only the smooth chalk-white stick between her fingers out of place. She pressed her lips to it many times, breathing in the poison as if it were her elixir, as if it were the only thing she ever needed in life. Her pale, thin lips shaped an o, spraying the smoke upon the world, suffocating the trees, replacing the harmless wind. That was her only flaw. She sat so happily, smiling, and singing of lollipops and chocolate bars. She sang my lullaby, my childhood, letting it float up to the sky, and resonate through the park. For so long I loved her, hearing her sing, listening to her stories, and watching her kill herself with every cigarette she pushed between her lips.

Creative Writing Assignment

PEACE

Caitlin