Creative Writing

The Step Into the Open World

    I gradually rotated the partly rusted golden handle leading into the free and natural world outside, and as I looked down I noticed the handle reflected a clinical white light loosely hanging and swaying from side to side, clanking against the wall in the cool summer night air breeze which drafted in from a small sharp break in the moss infected window. I looked at the meandering green ivy plant which twisted and turned as it engulfed much of the window.
      To my right there was a photograph, of a proud and mostly joyous bunch. One man, rather an old adolescent, seemed to have planted himself in the centre of the photograph, his summer sky blue eyes fixated on the lens of the camera; his countenance showed confidence and contentment. The adolescent’s ears were hidden behind his brown hair which, as the sun shone down upon it, lit up and rose on end, almost as a flower does as it strives for sunlight. The man’s eyes showed no fear and seemed not to allow you in as if he was hiding something beneath his confident and contented façade. He had no wrinkles or bags underneath his eyes nor any imperfections, except a small cluster of freckles which ran over his nose and under his eyes, darkening as the sun hit them.
  The next fellow in the photograph was a little round portly man; he was the pinnacle of ugliness, wearing a baggy, unfitted Hawaiian shirt with a pink flamingo, which frayed at the sides a result of it being stitched on by an amateur. The shirt remained fastened with a single blue button, which fought a great effort to hold in his round belly, inconveniently for the button the belly remained to force its way out. He wore shorts, which seemed to cause a deep discomfort as the belt dug into his underbelly. His blue socks with an emblem of a superhero, were unfashionably inserted into black sandals with a single Velcro strap. The man’s countenance showed great distress as a young girl appears to have been mocking...