Belonging Creative

BELONGING CREATIVE WRITING - HSC The lights around the city blink and abundance of colours as the many tall buildings towered over Carlos with a disgruntled tone. He shuffled throughout the city across paths and paved roads. His shoes scuffles softly, quiet against the hum of the faceless voices echoing throughout the city centre. Carlos didn’t like coming here, there were too many people, but he had to come and pick his son up from school. He was a bit early. A man with fiery red hair shouted fiercely into a tiny mobile phone. Carlos cowered as he approached. Many faces passed by, each more cold than the last. He sat at an empty table, his beads firmly clutched against the chest. He tried to move the chair away from the table a little bit, but it only swivelled on its axis, fixed. The table too, bolted down into the cold and frosty concrete, immovable and unforgiving. Carlos gazed about his feet waiting for his son to leave to leave St Martha’s College. The statue of the Virgin Mary stood tall and cold over Rahall as he walked passed. The escalator carried laughing and chattering groups from the school, each carrying their religion homework in opines hand and fries in the other. As Rahall took off his green and gold school hat, he caught sight of his father and grinned. The chilliness of the city just become more moderate as Carlos was enveloped in Rahall’s warm hug. The city that was feared just moments ago felt like home. Early the next morning Rahall closed the squeaky wooden Dorr behind him and sat silently in the last row. The church bench beneath him scold. Thin steaks of coloured light seeped through barley lighting the timber floor. Rahall sat alone in the back corner. Rahall wasn’t listening to the service, He has to be there as the usual routine of the school schedule. In his mind the priest roared from behind the sparrier. H3 closed his eyes and imaged he was back at Mexico, the remembrance of watching the sun set with his friends and family, the warmth...