HSC Creative Writing Belonging Essay

I felt expelled and exiled as they just left me there on the footpath in the chilling darkness of a Saturday night. “Get out of the car; we don’t want to be seen with you! ” I can still hear those spiteful words playing over and over again in the back of my mind as I continue walking along the footpath of this unfamiliar suburb. I am completely alone with only my thoughts and the echo of my footsteps in the empty street. Upon hearing a faint resonance of a jingle, I look up again. I jump back as a black cat shoots across the path in front of me. I caught a glimpse of its dishevelled fur.

It disappears, providing a screeching hiss that pierces the night air as it encounters a mammal in the undergrowth. They say a black cat at night is bad luck, but I honestly doubt my luck could have gotten any worse in light of recent events. It’s funny that the people you have loved and grown up with for almost your entire schooling journey can turn on you so effortlessly. My adolescent legs strain as I continue along the path aimlessly and my stomach rumbles in emptiness as I realise, I left without food. How can one think of such things at a time like that? I most certainly didn’t.Just minutes before leaving for an awesome party one doesn’t remember to do a lot of things and now the only thing dwelling in my gut is the sore pain that was the increasing hate for the cruel beings that have abandoned me here.

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Lost in my thoughts, my melancholic walking pattern is disrupted as my foot catches on a thick branch in the deceptive darkness and I fall swiftly face first into a small jagged rock. Dazed, I lift myself up from the ground and dust myself off. My left eyelid closes automatically as blood rolls down the top of my face. Cursing, I wipe my face with my white sleeve, soaking the cotton a blackish red instantly.The shock disperses and pain sets in, sharp agony mixed with a strange tingling sensation on my forehead. I forcedly push the pain to the back of my mind, and go to take my next step just as a small blue spherical object reflecting the moon catches my eye on the edge of the track. Interested, I walk over to it, and pick it up in my hands.

After examining the dirt caked ball, images of my older brother immediately come to mind. It produced a chain of detailed memories of how my brother and I would play on the grass of our comfortable backyard after school.We would play endlessly until complete exhaustion forced us to surrender to the soft grass. We would lie down on the bed of grass together, watching the robust clouds move gently along the afternoon sky. Laying there, in total relaxation, and reflection. This was accompanied by the scent of freshly mown grass and the slow cooling evening breeze brushing along our warm skin. Then I finally realised where I was standing.

An empty space where I was scared, cold and completely alone. I don’t feel that sense of security that I get when I am protected by my older brother.I have a gash on my forehead and was now on the edge of starvation. I don’t belong to the circumstance I am in. I scream in annoyance and got ready to throw the innocent ball as far as I physically could. However, I don’t.

This ball enables me to feel connected in a strange way to my brother, my protector. It provides me with feelings of immense safety and comfort even in this treacherously unsettling environment. How could I just throw that away as easily as my friends had done to me. I brush off the remaining dirt on the small ball, quietly place it in my pocket and continue walking.

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