here's an example of my writing. It's extracted from chapter 10 of my book. Hope you like it.
I walked home. Images of Omar’s nanny, crying silently over Omar’s dead body and Ali patting her gently over her shoulder, ran in front of me. At some point, I believed that god would never abandon me, that he would save me and protect Omar. However, God let me down once again. He took Omar away from me to a place where I can never find him.
I sat down at the fortress of the violin. Omar’s lavender scent filled the silent, dark street, even the smooth brown wood of the violin seemed to reflect his smiling face. I started playing a soft tune. The music swiveled around me in circles, soothing me, and jerking down regretful tears. I felt his presence; however, I knew that eventually my mind would forget his face, and he would be nothing more than a dead memory.
My chest was heavier than ever. I panted as I climbed the stairs into our house. “Control your emotions”. I rang the bell, and father opened for me. He stood motionless for a moment then he retreated backwards and squatted beside the red puff. His head trembled uncontrollably as he tried to pull back the tears that swelled up in his narrow eyes, but he failed. The tension was ever increasing all over his body.
Baffled, I walked towards him. It was my time for retaliation. Now I can abandon him and let his sorrow eat at his heart like fire eating at a piece of paper, but an unseen force pulled me towards him and as I squeeze myself between him and the puff, I knew I could never abandon him. .
“Father, why are you crying?” I said. ‘What happened, are you ok?”. Wiping away his tears gently with my fingers, I felt his soft skin that was identical to mine.
His sobs became more forceful the moment I touched his shoulders. He cried like a baby whose mother abandoned forever at his crib. I never saw father this weak before.
Some pictures trembled between his fatty fingers. I seized the images from his hands and turned them. I could not understand. It’s mother. She was naked with a mustached, chubby man In bed. Another black and white picture showed her in a similar position with another man. My eyes burned at the sight. I lobbed the images away, leaving them to float across the air and fall at the doorway.
The cloud of ignorance, that shrouded my mind, took flight. Now, I understand everything. That is why mother was always away. She was not visiting her mother, but she was earning her wages as a…...
I turned my head slowly towards father. He trembled harder and his sobs grew louder, then he pointed towards the kitchen.
I stood up and walked. The smell of newly baked chocolate cookies seeped in between the ajar door of the kitchen.
I felt like mother needed me. She wanted me to be beside her and tell her “it’s ok. We all make mistakes”. As the door of the kitchen creaked open, I imagined myself sitting down beside mother on the spongy, living room sofa and holding her soap smelling hand. She’d look up in my eyes, and cry. But after what I saw next, I knew I would never hold her hand again.
I walked home. Images of Omar’s nanny, crying silently over Omar’s dead body and Ali patting her gently over her shoulder, ran in front of me. At some point, I believed that god would never abandon me, that he would save me and protect Omar. However, God let me down once again. He took Omar away from me to a place where I can never find him.
I sat down at the fortress of the violin. Omar’s lavender scent filled the silent, dark street, even the smooth brown wood of the violin seemed to reflect his smiling face. I started playing a soft tune. The music swiveled around me in circles, soothing me, and jerking down regretful tears. I felt his presence; however, I knew that eventually my mind would forget his face, and he would be nothing more than a dead memory.
My chest was heavier than ever. I panted as I climbed the stairs into our house. “Control your emotions”. I rang the bell, and father opened for me. He stood motionless for a moment then he retreated backwards and squatted beside the red puff. His head trembled uncontrollably as he tried to pull back the tears that swelled up in his narrow eyes, but he failed. The tension was ever increasing all over his body.
Baffled, I walked towards him. It was my time for retaliation. Now I can abandon him and let his sorrow eat at his heart like fire eating at a piece of paper, but an unseen force pulled me towards him and as I squeeze myself between him and the puff, I knew I could never abandon him. .
“Father, why are you crying?” I said. ‘What happened, are you ok?”. Wiping away his tears gently with my fingers, I felt his soft skin that was identical to mine.
His sobs became more forceful the moment I touched his shoulders. He cried like a baby whose mother abandoned forever at his crib. I never saw father this weak before.
Some pictures trembled between his fatty fingers. I seized the images from his hands and turned them. I could not understand. It’s mother. She was naked with a mustached, chubby man In bed. Another black and white picture showed her in a similar position with another man. My eyes burned at the sight. I lobbed the images away, leaving them to float across the air and fall at the doorway.
The cloud of ignorance, that shrouded my mind, took flight. Now, I understand everything. That is why mother was always away. She was not visiting her mother, but she was earning her wages as a…...
I turned my head slowly towards father. He trembled harder and his sobs grew louder, then he pointed towards the kitchen.
I stood up and walked. The smell of newly baked chocolate cookies seeped in between the ajar door of the kitchen.
I felt like mother needed me. She wanted me to be beside her and tell her “it’s ok. We all make mistakes”. As the door of the kitchen creaked open, I imagined myself sitting down beside mother on the spongy, living room sofa and holding her soap smelling hand. She’d look up in my eyes, and cry. But after what I saw next, I knew I would never hold her hand again.
