Creative Story - Grade: 27/30 PDF

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Creative Story “Sarah Polley Finds out who her real father is” “Good morning Bianca how are doing today?” exclaimed Sarah, “Sarah, you are late for your therapy session, please continue from our previous discussion, the meeting with your biological father” she replied. “I am very sorry, Michael was acting up again; his pet flies had deceased, and he began to do an autopsy on them and then began to interrogate everyone including the neighbours if anyone witnessed their death, moving on… When I discovered who my biological father was… let me describe it in detail: Harry’s words instantly became incomprehensible; ignoring his direction I stumbled amidst conclusion from conclusion. For a moment my heart skipped a beat as I gazed at his face with a certain confusion, with which he was, completely familiar. He knew this sort of reaction would surface, so he firmly held my hand and repeated the words … ‘I am your father’”. Sarah Polley [To Therapist]: “his lips moved sluggishly, his words entangled in feelings. I had little to show and little to no words to share; what would you have done in my case? It is not every day that you discover that your biological father is some man with a gummy smile; his appearance was somewhat identical to Albert Einstein…” He repeated “I am your father” numerous moments, it was infuriating, it was as if I was Luke Skywalker discovering who my father was… I tried to bring myself back to reality by taking a sip of the coffee that had mellowed over the course of our conversation. I peered into the half empty cup, and the void stared right back at me. I reached out for the cup, my mind panned to a memory of the time… My ill father Michael had started talking to the flies that apparently “comforted him”. Talking to him was disconcerting as he ignored me as if I was the camera and he was the actor, overlooking my very presence. “Sarah, how did the flies comfort Michael? What if he was projecting his loneliness onto those flies?” asked Bianca. “Michaels emotions had been seeping out for a very long time, the flies were his companions that comforted him when Diane died. I was a child then, I didn’t know how to react, however, when I saw the adults weep it granted me only melancholy. I knew something was erroneous, however, the chains held down my voice and I sunk to the pit of despair.” Replied Sarah.

Suddenly my brain had ceased all bodily functions; images of my past, present and what my future may look like flashed right in front of me. My eyes flickered back at tempests and raging storms swarming in my mind; the incoherent dimness subsiding to the point where I couldn’t understand my general surroundings. Although the edges of my vision glinted like a camera lens. My thoughts were fluid, the name of the café out of perception, my reasoning had left me completely -resolving into a drought of present consciousness. “Open your eyes Sarah! Oh, O’ lord,” were the last words I could hear. As my tremendously blurry vision returned to normal, I could sense a heft on my chest, I asked myself “whose house am I in?” questioning the flies who were repeatedly trying to expel themselves from this roomSuddenly it hit me, the loneliness and emptiness in this room, this feeling; is this what Michael had been going through all this time? Heavy hearted I removed the sheets from myself and dragged my body out of the bed, the room began to shift up and down, left and right. Objects were seemingly within grasp, yet intangible. The dizziness had taken a turn for the worst. As I realised, I must make my way downstairs. “Oh dear, you are awake I was just about to come upstairs to check up on you, would you like a cup of herbal tea?” Harry asked. Before I could utter a word, he walked away… I guess he didn’t need my answer Feeling lightheaded I made my way downstairs, trying to make myself at home. I sat in a critically unappealing, chair. “Similar, to the scenes you’d see in a horror film, it was horrifying: the escaping springs from the seat cushions and the feral, toxic smell and with the musk of tobacco that hinted at the use of cigarettes. Harry couldn’t possibly be my father.” Sarah said to Bianca.

He enters my proximity and hands a cup of herbal tea and states “Better drink up, while it's warm, you can’t buy this in your everyday shop”- “Honestly I thought he was overacting, don’t you think so?”. So, I anxiously took a sip out of the glass and began to ask him questions. However, before I could do anything or ask anything. The man explained my mother’s past and filled in the gaps that no one could, explaining what Diane, my mother went through and how she seek comfort and how he was able to provide it. “My mother had unconditional love for Michael, though she shared a night with another men, her heart always belonged to Michael” “Sarah, your story is like no other, have you ever thought about documenting a film based on your family’s history” said Bianca “I… I’d have to think about it, I still need to question Diane’s friends and other individuals that knew her, but who the f*** cares about my family- its futile.” replied Sarah “I care, question your family and anyone who may know something about Diane’s past, however, don’t forget to switch between the good and bad cop. Direct your story but remember to leave your mark. Nonetheless we are quite out of time, please don’t be late for your appointment tomorrow”. “Interrogation…” I whispered to myself, “Thank you so much Bianca, I’ll try my best to make it on time, Bye” Replied Sarah. “See you tomorrow” replied Bianca. [Sarah Exits Room]

REFLECTIVE PIECE My piece ‘The Session’ is written in a creative format, this allowed me to explore areas of Stories we tell that were not widely focussed on, further incorporating a change to the Scene that was used to write the story. The creative format is further broken down into a creative composition, as the story is an adaption from a scene in Stories we tell. This allowed me to express unique ideas and themes while having a similar background to the story. The Creative form appeared like the finest idea as in the scene I have chosen there was not enough knowledge to authenticate the scene itself and no future references were made to the scene, since the scene was a recreated scene from the past. The emotions and thoughts were not elaborated on and the scene seemed to be bland with not enough content to follow. This influenced me to write in a Creative form, so I could discover the different emotions that could have been felt and what impacts it had in the future. Example; Sarah was ‘surprised’ when she discovered who her biological father, however, this only created a sinkhole for the documentary questioning its authenticity, my piece clarified how it affected her and how she is still recovering from her experience. I have chosen to write in a descriptive narrative style, emphasizing on the emotions and utilising variety of techniques to make my story entertaining. The story is first-person narrative in attempt to validate a comprehensive and well thought out piece....