Creative Writing Practice #3 - Conflict

                My heart was about to leap out of my chest as I opened the intimidating door. I now found myself in the head office of the music school I had always dreamed of attending. My goal was to play piano for a living, and this was an experience of a lifetime. It was my only chance with a musical future, and I do not know what I would do if I didn’t get in.

            “The Professor will see you now,” a dull woman said from behind a too small to be comfortable desk. She gestured to a large door that I assumed was where the Professor’s office was. I took in one big breath before entering the place that could make or break me.

            “Take a seat, Miss Casson.” I heard from the professional lips of the uptight man sitting behind a massive desk. “Now, I understand you were hoping to audition for our academy, is that correct?”

            “Yes, sir,” I replied confidently.

            “Well I’m afraid that is not possible,” he spit out the words like watermelon seeds.

            I stared at him blankly.

            “The amount of work you have done is impressive, but you have not taken your final exam with the Royal Conservatory.” He said almost in a boasting way. “Without a certificate, your work means nothing.”

            I felt a pile of rage and anger fill up the pit of my stomach. “Are you honestly going to let a piece of paper determine what I can and cannot do?” I was almost shouting. “A single piece of paper from a tree. You’re going to let a tree be the boss of me? That’s not right. You don’t know what I’m capable of doing. I have been playing for 15 years!” I was now standing and leaning over his desk so we were now face to face. I have never been angrier in my life! “And you won’t let me audition because I don’t have a piece of paper signed by some preppy, uptight woman with a professional signature?” I was surprised by my outburst. I was usually so shy and quiet, and I never fought back. I quickly sat back down in the chair and tried to hide my embarrassed face. “Sorry,” I quietly mumbled as my eyes dropped to the floor.

            An eerie silence filled the room. The Professor seemed to be shocked and his wandering eyes seemed to be in deep thought. He got up from his seat and walked over to a vintage piano that seemed violently out of tune, judging on the layer of dust covering its body. He lifted up the key cover, and calmly said, “Play.”

Creative Writing Practice #2 - Character

                Fumbling through my big black bag, I finally managed to pull out the key to my small condo in the middle of downtown Toronto. I gladly accepted working overtime at the small local café down the street, without thinking about the music class I now had five minutes to sprint to. College tuition had been put first on my list of things to pay off, so sadly I could not afford a car. Unlocking the door, I scurried towards my bedroom so I could change out of my work clothes. There was no way I was going to class with a frilly white apron and a name tag with “Ava” written in a romantic font.

            “Hi Sam, hi Ella!” I said to my two turtles who were blankly staring at me from their glass cage. They were the only family I had in Toronto, and cared greatly for them. I always wondered what they thought of me since I was always flying back and forth from work to class. They never really got a chance to see me without a stress line painted across my forehead.

            The apron got stuck when I tried to untie it, so I tried pulling it over my head. I was in such a hassle that I knocked my glasses off my face and tripped over them, only to leave me face down on the hard wood floor. I laughed at myself through my clumsiness, and pulled myself off the floor. I threw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, having to cuff them since I was so short. I found a pair of sneakers, and tied up the laces quickly almost tying my fingers in with them as well.

            I ran out of my bedroom and over to my piano where I had yesterday’s theory homework scattered everywhere. When I was little, my mom forced me to take piano lessons. I always dreaded my lessons and rarely practiced, until one day when she took me to a music store and told me I could pick out anything I want. I picked out a Coldplay sheet music book, and absolutely fell in love with my instrument. I then realized playing piano was my one and only passion. So right after high school, I packed my bags and moved across the country, by myself, to Toronto so I could attend an arts school.

            Not even bothering to look in a mirror, I ran out the door and down the street hoping to catch a bus so I wouldn’t be as late. I was on my way when I ran into someone, and my sheet music and homework flew everywhere. Oh, just great!

*Change in perspective*

            I was late for class and running to catch a bus, when I fell in the path of a girl running in the opposite direction. I knocked her to the ground causing all of her papers to fly everywhere.

            “I am so sorry,” I mumbled offering her a hand up. She had a petit frame, and I was pretty scared I had broken something since I was the stereotypical football player towering over six feet with muscles galore.

            “Thanks,” she said blushing and not wanting to make eye contact.

            Her long, black wavy hair was blowing in all directions, as well as the papers. I noticed she had thick glasses on with vibrant blue eyes hidden behind them. I was getting distracted from the simple beauty of her presence. I woke myself from my trance and began to pick up the papers that surrounded us. I glanced back at the girl, to only see a small tear escape her eye as she organized the sheets in her hands. I quickly rushed to her side with the rest of the papers, and brushed the tear from her eye. Her skin was icy cold, but the burning from her cheeks was still present. I could tell she was very shy, but there was something about this girl that was so interesting.

            “I’m Liam,” I said looking down into her breathtaking eyes.

            “Ava,” she replied.

            She quickly walked away taking her papers, and also my heart as she scurried to the bus stop.

Creative Writing #1 - My Bedroom

                My bedroom is definitely not like something you would see in a home décor magazine. I feel like if I did have something like that, I would be scared to touch anything since it’s all so polished and put together. So I guess it’s alright not having the fanciest setting. I don’t have to worry about keeping it in order and feeling uncomfortable.

            When you first walk in through the tall door, the first thing you’ll probably notice is my un-made bed against a lavender wall. The contrasting black and white bedspread is never placed on it properly and the violet and white pillows look like they have been thrown out of a hurricane that flew over my bed. Beside it is a wooden nightstand with a white vintage lamp resting by the wall. I usually have my phone playing my favourite Beatles or Ed Sheeran album, and a cup of peppermint tea (my addiction) to sip on the refreshing taste and leave a slight aroma in the air. On the same wall, there is a huge window ledge seat that is piled with pillows, blankets, and even a velvet, soft bear I got on my first birthday. The area is painted a dark shade of purple complimenting the lavender, and making the white lace curtains stand out. A small wooden bookcase is placed right beside it making it the perfect reading nook, and it’s defiantly my favourite part of my room. I have a lot of floor space, covered in soft white carpet, which is often a dissaray of dance shoes (which I trip over too often), pillows that never made it to my bed, and my school bag that always finds a new place to hide. On the opposite wall facing the window ledge, there I have my large closet that I always keep closed in fear of a clothing avalanche if opened. And lastly, like any other teenage girl, I have a desk as a makeshift vanity cluttered with makeup and miscellaneous beauty products. Below it, there are lots of burn marks on the ground from many times of forgetting to turn off my curling iron before going to school (oops), but the mess of random hair tools seem to cover it just fine! 

            My bedroom is surely nothing out of the ordinary, but I love it just the way it is. Small, comforting, and a relaxing place to be.