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Week 1 Writing Homework


Prompt:

“The photograph fell from the old book, revealing a face I hadn’t seen in years and memories I thought I had forgotten.”

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20 thoughts on “Week 1 Writing Homework”

  1. All of a sudden, the memories came flooding back into my mind. Everything I had tried so hard to get rid of for so many years just came rushing back. The screams that pierced my ears, the horrendous sight of my parents throwing slippers, rulers and cutting boards at each other, and the sweet smell of home, slowly running away into the unknown. The fragile photo of my parents laughing together that smelled of ashes in my trembling hands had now pasted itself into my mind.

    “So I see you have finally found ‘it’” whispers a nostalgic voice from behind me. My mother, who had the smallest heart ever, had just found me, normal 13 year old , trudging through her secrets. What would she think of me? Yet, she seemed calm for the first time since the divorce, and my heart crawled back down my throat. “Don’t worry Alice,” she grumbled ,”I can take you out to dinner, we’ll talk about this in a more… welcoming place,” my mother told me as she knelt down beside her gentle daughter. For a 40 year old women, she smelt unusually alcoholic, but that didn’t matter, I was too glad to have some time with her in public.

    “How will we afford this?” I questioned.
    “I have some tricks up my sleeve,” chuckled my mother. Knowing my mother was very vulnerable right now, I decided not to question why. Unlike my mother, however, the restaurant was warm and welcoming. Though despite the laughter and chatter around us, I felt like someone was watching us.

    Then it happened all too fast. At first, the chuckling behind me was normal, but then I realized it was getting louder at a rapid pace. That was where it all started happening, the face didn’t only bring nostalgia, it was my biological father. “GREG!” My mother screamed so loud they probably heard her in China. My heart skipped a beat. Fighting was one thing, fighting in public was on a completely different chart. “I should’ve told you that night I was drunk,” sobbed my dad. “I was too!” Cried my mum, and they started smothering each other with kisses. Well at least now I knew to never count your chickens before they hatch.

    1. The wind howled menacingly, its powerful gusts battering against the wooden walls, weakening them with every second. The stale scent of mold drifted up through my nostrils, and the floorboards creaked with every step I took. The walls were covered with green moss, giving the attic an artificial-turned-natural atmosphere. I made my way through the boxes, each one containing discarded items that were deemed unworthy of the inhabitants’ affection. I tried my best to avoid all the boxes and items, but it was impossible. Eventually, I tripped upon a hard, solid item. Bending down to retrieve it, I saw a rough, leather-bound book. Its spine was worn with age, and the dust covering the cover made the title almost unable to be discerned. I opened it, disregarding the stiff pages. A photo fell out onto the floor, and when I looked at it, it was like waking up from a deep sleep.

      I gazed at the photo, my heart pumping hard. All at once, memories came flooding back to me. I saw me in my childhood, being chased by a young girl. I heard the distant sound of laughter, bittersweet to my tongue, and nostalgic to my mind. Annabeth, I remembered. I remembered her wonderful fragrance, smelling like roses. I remembered the way her blond hair swung back and forth when she was running. I remembered her milky-white skin, her blood-red lips, and her ebony-black skin. She had been my best friend, or so I had thought. We were foolish young kids back then, eager to underestimate the power of scorn and jealousy. We had made a vow to each other, to stay with the other no matter what, but alas! Not everything can happen.

      I remember the day our argument took place. Flying rulers, shoes being thrown, and glasses shattering everywhere. One argument over a stupid subject eventually turned into an unfixable chasm, that left us with nothing. Jealousy, that unfathomable evil had torn us apart. But here she was again, looking up at me, her eyes filled with unspoken accusations. She had disappeared the day after, so mysteriously, that I could have sworn that she had been taken by a kidnapper. My heart filled with longing, but at the same time it burned with hatred at Jealousy. I wanted to shred it, to rip it into a thousand tiny little pieces, so that it could never plague innocent hearts again.

      Through all this rage, my brain seemed to have become clear. The book lay forgotten beside me, its unknown secrets embedded in its pages. But for now, those would have to wait. Only one thing mattered to me right now. I would have to find Annabeth. She was waiting.

  2. The photograph fell from the old book, revealing a face I hadn’t seen in years and memories I thought I had forgotten. Her smile, so radiant it seemed to leap from the faded paper, hit me like a physical force. Sarah. It had been… how long? Fifteen years? More? The edges of the picture were frayed, softened with age, but her eyes, those bright, mischievous eyes, still held their captivating spark. They seemed to bore into me, across the chasm of time, demanding an explanation.

    My fingers traced the outline of her cheek, a ghost of a touch. Where had she gone? We’d been inseparable, two halves of a whole, dreaming of futures painted in vibrant, impossible colours. We’d sworn eternal friendship, a bond stronger than… well, everything, or so we thought. And then, poof. She’d vanished. No goodbye, no explanation, just an empty space where her laughter used to echo.

    The book, a dusty tome of forgotten poetry, slipped from my grasp and landed with a soft thud. I barely noticed. My mind was a whirlwind, a chaotic storm of fragmented images. Late-night talks fueled by cheap coffee and boundless dreams. Summer days spent exploring the abandoned railway tracks, our whispers swallowed by the wind. The awkward fumbling of our first crushes, shared secrets whispered under a blanket of stars.

    A sharp pang of longing pierced through the fog of nostalgia. I remembered the last time I’d seen her, a silly argument over a boy, a stupid misunderstanding that had festered and grown into an unbridgeable chasm. Pride, that insidious monster, had kept us apart. And now, here she was, staring back at me from the past, a silent accusation in her smiling eyes.

    I flipped the photograph over, hoping for a clue, a date, anything. But the back was blank, smooth and unforgiving. Just a stark white square mocking my desperate search for answers. A wave of sadness washed over me, heavy and suffocating. Had she ever thought of me? Had she ever regretted that silly fight? Was she even… alive?

    A sudden urge seized me. I had to find her. I had to know. This photograph, this accidental rediscovery, was more than just a fleeting memory. It was a call, a summons from the past, a chance to rewrite a story that had ended too abruptly. I carefully tucked the photograph into my pocket, a fragile talisman guiding me forward. The forgotten book lay on the floor, its secrets still untold. But for now, they could wait. Sarah couldn’t.

  3. The photograph fell from the old book, revealing a face I hadn’t seen in years and memories I thought I had forgotten. Her smile, so radiant it seemed to leap from the faded paper, hit me like a physical force. Sarah. It had been… how long? Fifteen years? More? The edges of the picture were frayed, softened with age, but her eyes, those bright, mischievous eyes, still held their captivating spark. They seemed to bore into me, across the chasm of time, demanding an explanation.

    My fingers traced the outline of her cheek, a ghost of a touch. Where had she gone? We’d been inseparable, two halves of a whole, dreaming of futures painted in vibrant, impossible colours. We’d sworn eternal friendship, a bond stronger than… well, everything, or so we thought. And then, poof. She’d vanished. No goodbye, no explanation, just an empty space where her laughter used to echo.

    The book, a dusty tome of forgotten poetry, slipped from my grasp and landed with a soft thud. I barely noticed. My mind was a whirlwind, a chaotic storm of fragmented images. Late-night talks fueled by cheap coffee and boundless dreams. Summer days spent exploring the abandoned railway tracks, our whispers swallowed by the wind. The awkward fumbling of our first crushes, shared secrets whispered under a blanket of stars.

    A sharp pang of longing pierced through the fog of nostalgia. I remembered the last time I’d seen her, a silly argument over a boy, a stupid misunderstanding that had festered and grown into an unbridgeable chasm. Pride, that insidious monster, had kept us apart. And now, here she was, staring back at me from the past, a silent accusation in her smiling eyes.

    I flipped the photograph over, hoping for a clue, a date, anything. But the back was blank, smooth and unforgiving. Just a stark white square mocking my desperate search for answers. A wave of sadness washed over me, heavy and suffocating. Had she ever thought of me? Had she ever regretted that silly fight? Was she even… alive?

    A sudden urge seized me. I had to find her. I had to know. This photograph, this accidental rediscovery, was more than just a fleeting memory. It was a call, a summons from the past, a chance to rewrite a story that had ended too abruptly. I carefully tucked the photograph into my pocket, a fragile talisman guiding me forward. The forgotten book lay on the floor, its secrets still untold. But for now, they could wait. Sarah couldn’t.

  4. With a smile, all the memories started flowing into my mind. All those years I tried to retrieve it but it was just right in front of me. The hilarious dad jokes and the fun times on the laptop with my cousin was right here. I was stuck into one place like a tree in the ground. Confused, amazed, perplexed and muddled all at the same time. The photo of a perfect pictured family from all those years was stuck into my mind.

    Moments later, I was crying and crying on the ground keeping my eyes glued to the photo. I though to myself “Sometimes, I wish I could go back to those days of innocence and endless possibilities, not to change anything, but to feel a few things twice.” I had just begun a new chapter of my life. I new that this old book would change my life forever. I am just an old man doing nothing with his own life. Just sits on the hard and uncomfortable couch. When I could be making millions and sitting on a comfy, luxurious couch living my bets time of my life.

    This meant I had to change my life. I started to take my life saving and invest it into stocks. I also started to train and not be obese. This book, this photograph, this moment would help my life. I could not be wishing to change into my child self. I had to make my childhood worth. Day after day I started to change, my friends were shocked. One year later, after that memory, I had officially changed.

    I had to go back to parents and go relieve that moment of me in my childhood. There was my cousin and I on the laptop and my Dad making humorous jokes. We wee all happy and over the moon. We took a photo. I compared the memorable photo and the relieved photo and I smiled.

  5. The photograph fell from the old book, revealing a face I hadn’t seen in years and memories I had forgotten. How long has it been 20 25 years since this awful memory was out of my brain. The screams, wars, blood stains, fights and frightened children. The picture of me and my parents on the frame I stare deeply sighing for bravery.

    My hands touched the frame so carefully it felt like a great treasure I would never ever lose. Why had they gone so far leaving me and my older sibling just why did they have to go to war I will always be thinking about it? Life is tricky for me and my sister going through challenging difficulties. I’m still trembling from those words that came out of the soldier’s mouths why do I deserve such a hard life?

    The frames I grabbed from the attic were as dusty as ever as snow was filled everywhere. Whenever I look at these frames, I start crying heavily like a big storm is about to approach with thunder and lightning but, I will always try to stay strong. Just like how my parents always would say “if you stay strong and brave good will always come to you”.

    At that time, when I was 9, I felt like I was hallucinating it just happened way too fast for me I wasn’t prepared for it. It was quite tricky for me and my sister to be doing everything it is quite tricky raising yourself up. Then I realized something had been bugging me the whole time. When I was 9, I was wondering why our parents went to war and left us behind. There had to be some good explanation for this. Then it was that I realized…

  6. Someone I remembered

    The wooden door opened as I walked into my bedroom with a bookshelf filled with books. I grabbed an ocean blue colored book that’s about Jupiter and sat down on my bed ready to read. I patted and blew the dust away while I looked around the cover and corners, then I thought to myself, this must be a very old book. The words on the front cover were all smudged and the corners were all damaged.

    When I opened the book, I discovered a black and white photo of a man wearing a hat. At this moment, I stopped for a while, I scratched my head which was filled with black and smooth hair as I squeezed my eyes, wanting to see more clearly of who he is. I know that I have met this man before but I just can’t remember who he is “Time for dinner, I made your favorite meal Lilly.” My mum shouted. I then realized, I can ask my mum who he is.

    I rushed downstairs with the photo as fast as I could then puffing then saw my mum with a confused face. “Mum, have you ever seen this man before?” I asked. “Sorry sweetheart, I have never seen him in my life.” My mum answered.

    I then asked my dad, grandma and uncle but none of them have ever seen them before. I sat on the couch and sighed, suddenly, I remembered we have photos which had hanged on the walls, whoever look the most similar to him, who will be that man.

    I compared all the photos but none of them looked the same, not even a little bit. I went upstairs and putted the photo back into the book and left it on my desk. I walked sadly to the bathroom and brushed my teeth ready for bed. I lied on my soft, lavender colored bed as I thought, maybe one day, I will know who he is. One day, then I closed my mysterious blue eyes and fell asleep.

    Someone I remembered

  7. When I climbed up the creaky stairs to the attic, I wondered what secrets and ancient items would be hidden in there. The old attic hadn’t seen daylight for many decades as no one had the time to explore this part of the house. One Sunday afternoon I was bored and thought I could explore and potentially unlock some hidden secrets.

    A wave of dust appeared in front of me. I waited for it to settle before walking into the dark room. To brighten up the area, I opened the window at the back to let some light. I could see cobwebs surrounding me and a large bookshelf next to the window. The room spelt like mould since no one had cleaned this place for years.

    There was one book that intrigued me the most, a bright orange cover located at the top of the shelf. As I took it out of its old home, a photograph from the ancient book revealing a face that I haven’t seen for years and memories I have forgotten.

    I slowly picked up the photo and realised what it was. A young, brave soldier who represented Australia in war World War II. My grandpa was a kind and caring person who passed away during the Iraq war. He tried his very best but never got to celebrate the success of our victory.

    My grandfather used to play with me when I was a little girl. We would fly our handmade kites in the park and control the toy plane with the remote. Those are all precious memories to me. Until he was ordered to serve in war, we had a great lifetime together.

    Tears formed in my eyes and the transparent droplets fell on the edge of the photograph. I wiped my tears away and dried the photo with my t-shirt so it could be returned it into the book back in its little socket for a long, long time.

  8. I picked up the box and brought it to the floor, what was in here? The box seemed to be pulling my hands to itself, urging me to open it. I slowly lifted the cardboard flap ane peered in, photographs of people filled the whole box, I flipped the box upside down and began rummaging through the enormous pile of pictures trying to find a family member. I gave up and dumped the photos back in to the box and packed it away to play a game of chess, I sat on the floor and noticed a soft shine under the bed. I reached my hands under the bed and grabbed the shining object, another photo. I looked at the photo and within a second the memories of everything hit me like a stampede of rhinos. I looked at the picture carefully as tears trickled quietly down my cheeks, grandpa.

    The photo was a piece of the past, this was the only remained part of grandpa. I looked at it, and the photo of grandpa laughing happily was staying in my brain.
    I went to my room and laid on my bed watching the ceiling and for the first time I noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of a gap in the middle of a concrete. I stood on my toes and pulled on the piece of paper. I looked at it,
    Dear Issac,
    thank you for how well you helped me and treated me for my whole life now go help someone else!
    Grandpa
    I read it again and again my hands trembling at another remnant of grandpa, how did he even know I wasn’t helping someone else? I looked at the note, perplexed. I noticed a ps on the back,
    I will always be here with you no matter what you think.
    How did grandpa know that? When I was little my mum used to joke that grandpa was all-knowing and omniscient and now we know he is, even when he is no longer here.

  9. rainie-jiangoutlook-com

    The photograph fell from the old book, revealing a face I hadn’t seen in years and memories I thought I had forgotten. My hands trembled slightly as I picked it up, the faded image, the nostalgia pressing onto me. Smiling back at me was Isabella, my childhood friend, my partner who had been with me for countless adventures and mischiefs. Her eyes seem to bore into me, demanding an explanation. Her wild curls framed a face that was both hauntingly familiar and achingly distant, engulfing me into memories.

    It has been over two decades since we lost touch, our own paths splitting apart as life took us into different directions. Our inseparable bond had faded now a distant memory. But holding that image, it was as if the past came rushing back in vivid detail. I remember the treehouse in the old oak, we would spend hours in it, sharing our secrets and dreams and planning our next grand escapade.

    Isabella had always been the brave one, the one who would dare to climb the highest branches or sneak into an abandoned house at the edge of the town. Her courage has been infectious, urging me to step out of my comfort zone and embrace the unknown. But as we grew older, reality took over, our lives being consumed by responsibilities and expectations.

    A feeling of longing pierced through the fog of nostalgia. I flipped the photograph over hoping to find a note or date, but there was nothing. Just a image of two carefree children, frozen in a moment of joy. I felt a wash of regret, wondering what happened to Isabella. Where was she now? Had she thought of me? Was she still the fearless girl, or had life changed her as it changed me?

    Determined to find out, I carefully placed the photograph back into the book and closed it. I knew what I had to do. I had to find her, reconnect to the person that had been so important to such a vital part of my life. Maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off and create more memories together. The forgotten book lay on the floor, its secrets still untold, but I couldn’t wait, lsabella couldn’t wait.

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