I stirred in my bed for a moment as I slowly gained
awareness of my surroundings. I could hear a faint, inaudible melody in the
background that gradually grew clear. “That was the brand new single from The
Wanted here on Capital FM…” said the radio host. I turned to the direction in
which the sound was coming from and squinted to make out what it read. 6:00 am.
Reaching over with great effort to turn off the radio, I flinched. The
scorching surface where the sun had been blazing through a gap in my crisp,
white curtains, gave a shock to my system. Silence.
As I fiercely whipped the soft white sheets off of
my body I made my way over to the window, the sun blinding me with every step.
I reached up to the handle of the window and thrust it open. A strong breeze
gushed past me as the smell of freshly cut grass overwhelmed the room. The
birds were singing and the cars were zooming past. I stared down at the busy
town. This is where I had longed to be for some time. Feeling content and no
longer lethargic, I grabbed a soft towel off of the radiator and wandered into
the bathroom. Jumping into the shower I turned the dial from cold to hot and
let the water fall down on me for a moment. Running my hands through my hair, I
felt completely relaxed. After cleaning myself and forcing my body out of the
shower I dried off, wrapped myself up in my cosy dressing gown, towel enfolded
about my hair, ready to continue with my daily routine.
Hanging on my wardrobe was the outfit that I had
picked out to wear the night before: A gorgeous white silk blouse, a black
high-waisted skirt and a pair of stunning high heels to complete the look.
Being a fashion journalist, I was always expected to look presentable and with
my designer wardrobe, that was never a problem. I slipped the blouse over my
arms as the silk caressed my skin and pulled the skirt up to my waist. Each
button on the blouse, so tiny and detailed, were done up one by one. I tucked
the shirt into my skirt and slipped on my shoes. My hair was almost dry by this
time. Not needing a lot done to it, I left it to dry completely naturally. My
hair had a wavy elegance about it that I loved. My skin retained a natural
glow, and so all I needed to do was moisturise to look appropriate for the day.
After all the commotion of getting ready was concluded,
I strolled into my bright white kitchen and placed two slices of wholemeal
bread into the toaster, while engaging in deep thought of what the day ahead of
me would consist of. The aroma of fresh, warm toast wafted past me and I soon
focused back to my task. Unexpectedly and making me jump a little, the toaster
pinged! I lay the toast on the worktop and spread some butter upon them. I
hungrily sailed through my first piece, the mouth-watering crunch so appealing
to my senses. The second slice I gripped with my teeth as I dashed about the
flat collecting my things. Finally ready to leave, I grabbed the keys off the
table and hurriedly leapt out the door.
Walking along the street was always enjoyable,
watching everyone rush around and listening to the town go wild. I came to a
halt as I walked past Starbucks. The smell of the fresh coffee was such a
treat, tempting me towards the shop. However I was already running a little late
due to the fact that I was so involved in everything that was going on around
me, so I carried on my journey to work…
…I stirred in my bed for a moment as I slowly
gained awareness of my surroundings. I could hear a faint, inaudible melody in
the background that gradually grew clear. “That was the brand new single from
The Wanted here on Capital FM…” said the radio host. I turned to the direction
in which the sound was coming from and squinted to make out what it read. 7:30 am.
“Time to get up!” I heard my mum shout from downstairs. Today was the day of my
English exam. I hadn't stopped worrying about it for months. I really required
a good grade if I wanted my dream to come true. All I could do was hope and
pray. One day, one day I will become a fashion journalist.
----
Hi guys!
So, this was a short piece of creative writing that I came across tonight that I had written for year 11 English. It shocked and amazed me to discover that my ideal "dream" has not changed a single bit since then. When I finished sixth form I got really distracted from said "dream" as I was doing my make up course and focusing on becoming a Make up Artist. I was so wrapped up in it that I forgot where my passion really lied. And that's with writing. I have always wanted to eventually become a Fashion Journalist, and from this evening onwards I have decided that that is exactly what I am going to focus on.
"Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you." - Marsha Norman
"If you can dream it, you can do it." - Walt Disney
"Everything starts with a dream." - Anon
Love, H x
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