An Example of Creative Writing

Its pungent smell burnt my nostrils and made my eyes water. I could almost feel the scorching sensation of it trickling down my throat, The sky modelled my affection for the vile drink he held In his hand; a thick crimson cloud obscuring from my view what I sought – light. Another approach to my predicament seemed impossible. -“Come on then! Take a swig,” said James. “It’ll be good for ya! ” Of course I knew this was complete nonsense. Alcohol was never good for anyone; lthough, if I accepted it, I would be more reputable in their eyes.

Why someone would drink something so repulsive eluded me, yet the taste was nothing compared to its magical respect-giving properties. Its allure was hard to resist; It demanded I dip my tongue into its enchanted iniquity. My hand slowly rose to grab the glass hovering in front of my face. -“Aight,” I said, as I took the glass In my hand and leaned back. “Only a Ill’ though. ” put the glass to my lips and swallowed a small amount of the fluid. It’s as if it was some sort of potion, where I only needed a sip for it to take effect.

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There we gol You’re one of us now. Feels good aye? ‘ it sure does! ” lied. Well, at least In part. The physical feeling of it in my throat was horrendous, but the recognition I received outweighed the physical discomfort. I felt a pressing warmth against my face – emitted from the fire that my friends and I were gathered around. Inside me I could feel a second, more distant warmth; one which I was becoming Increasingly aware of. As much as I would have liked to deny, It was pleasant. A multitude of grinning faces was something I had longed for.

Now I dwelt n the presence of acceptance; my lifelong wish had been granted. A beam of light pierced through the crimson cloud. Maybe drinking wasn’t as bad as had first thought. Thoughts that had once been melancholic pertaining to alcohol were now replaced by an involuntary thirst for it. I took another sip. -“Here, have the whole lot! ” said Emma as she handed me a half filled bottle. mfou can top up your glass whenever you’re out. ” My throat was beginning to become accustomed to what I once thought to be a 1 mouth. The attention fuelled me.

Without a clear mind I didn’t even realise that I was llowing my emotions run wild, out of the boundaries of rational thought. -miou’re quite the drinker aren’t ya? ” said James, but I took no notice. I was single- mindedly focused on finishing the bottle. It was as if there was a direct proportionality between how much alcohol coursed through my veins and how accepted I felt. Someone poured a glass of whisky into the small fire and it erupted into a flaming furore. I bathed myself in the heat which washed over me; the warmth seemed to touch my very soul. But was it wise to let them have free roam over my decisions?

Should I not be guided by rational thinking rather than emotions? I didn’t know but I didn’t care; my inhibitions were long gone, flushed down my gullet with every successive gulp. I drained the bottle, much to the appreciation of my friends, who were now cheering in an alcohol-powered frenzy. The crimson sky abruptly cleared. A composed and satisfying feeling of acceptance now possessed me. The rest of the night was a blur. My brain couldn’t handle the strain of that much liquor surging through it. Staggering across the road… was feeling tired… closed eyes… black.