Essay about Creative Writing- the Lake
The soft cushions, the filtered light fell upon the faded, dusty dark carpet.
“She was a good woman, your Grandmother, she taught me a lot,” said Jenna, trying to comfort me in my despair.
I didn’t reply because it would encourage more of her pointless words of sympathy, adding to the awkwardness of the situation.
“Would you like to hear about our experience at the lake in the summer of 1965?” Jenna exclaimed. Although I did not want more pathetic words of comfort, this comment intrigued me and the temptation was too great to not hear her story.
“No I haven’t, please go on…” I replied, trying not to act excited, when in fact, I was twitching with anticipation, mainly because I did not know what my Grandma was …show more content…
We arrived at the lake, the clouds glistened in the clear undisturbed sharp surface of the water. Without any hesitation, I insisted we put our bathers on before anything else. Unlike my skin, the air was bone dry. My clothes were clinging to my body, as if trying to absorb my sweat and keep themselves cool. With trouble, my clothes released there soggy grip on my body and I slipped my new bathers on; a birthday gift.
I saw the rickety tinny jettie, one which shared many fond memories with myself in my young days. It too was feeling the heat and instead of perspiring, it left jagged splinters riddled across the top leaving a minefield to run through. Your grandmother and I dived into the water simultaneously. Once submerged, I felt the chilling reeds wrap themselves around my delicate legs. I looked down to where the sensation was coming from, and amongst the brown murky mess below me, I could see black shadows of the tips of the reeds. Just the sight was enough to send shivers through my bones, and not the kind that I experienced with my head out of the Kombi window. With a quick jolt, I was out of their grasp.