Free Write
- Submitted by: lucz
- Views: 55
- Category: English: Creative Writing
- Date Submitted: 10/09/2016 11:28 AM
- Pages: 9
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Part one
An Autobiography
Turning a corner
Excruciatingly Orange. Squinting my eyes as they adjust to the offensive tangerine seats and luggage compartments. The stewardess an inside out version of an ompa lompa from my beloved author; Roald Dahl. She glanced at the empty seat next to mine, then gifted me a smile, practiced politeness of course, clearly British. I sat there waiting for the cabin pressure to compress my brain enough for it to explode out from my ears, to justify these glassy eyes. My body buckled up ready to be flown to an exotic destination, while my mind chartered off on its own Kamikaze mission. Snatching breaths, thieving recycled air, 'Breathe in............ And then out' I am not afraid of flying, I am afraid of the landing. And there after. Silently ignoring my anxiety sat in the empty seat next to mine. Gloating like a misbehaving child.
‘What have you done?’ It sung, swinging its legs playfully.
I padlocked my eyes shut and recited poetry, the alphabet, colours, greetings in English and Spanish. Even practicing what little French I knew, smirking with Irony. I speak fluent Spanish yet own not a Spanish cell in the marrow of my bones. However my nana Roubiee was French and spoke fluent French. For a millisecond I felt like a traitor to my heritage, I wonder if he felt like this, a traitor. Every weird and wonderful thought occupied my mind, and I was safe, but then like always my mind wandered back to you.
The take off and landing was balanced, unlike the colour distinguishability between interior décor and human cabin crew. Thankfully the rat race to exit the plane began. I succumbed and took the outstretched hand of my inner child filled with anxiety. I stole another deep breath and followed blindly like a duckling after its mother.
Welcoming sun, the glorious sun, the same sun I marvelled at in Stansted airport this morning. The one I seen as a majestic god through the window of the plane, while a screaming child...
An Autobiography
Turning a corner
Excruciatingly Orange. Squinting my eyes as they adjust to the offensive tangerine seats and luggage compartments. The stewardess an inside out version of an ompa lompa from my beloved author; Roald Dahl. She glanced at the empty seat next to mine, then gifted me a smile, practiced politeness of course, clearly British. I sat there waiting for the cabin pressure to compress my brain enough for it to explode out from my ears, to justify these glassy eyes. My body buckled up ready to be flown to an exotic destination, while my mind chartered off on its own Kamikaze mission. Snatching breaths, thieving recycled air, 'Breathe in............ And then out' I am not afraid of flying, I am afraid of the landing. And there after. Silently ignoring my anxiety sat in the empty seat next to mine. Gloating like a misbehaving child.
‘What have you done?’ It sung, swinging its legs playfully.
I padlocked my eyes shut and recited poetry, the alphabet, colours, greetings in English and Spanish. Even practicing what little French I knew, smirking with Irony. I speak fluent Spanish yet own not a Spanish cell in the marrow of my bones. However my nana Roubiee was French and spoke fluent French. For a millisecond I felt like a traitor to my heritage, I wonder if he felt like this, a traitor. Every weird and wonderful thought occupied my mind, and I was safe, but then like always my mind wandered back to you.
The take off and landing was balanced, unlike the colour distinguishability between interior décor and human cabin crew. Thankfully the rat race to exit the plane began. I succumbed and took the outstretched hand of my inner child filled with anxiety. I stole another deep breath and followed blindly like a duckling after its mother.
Welcoming sun, the glorious sun, the same sun I marvelled at in Stansted airport this morning. The one I seen as a majestic god through the window of the plane, while a screaming child...