Creative Writing Losing Hope Essay - 526 Words

â€Å"Hopppeee,†Grace beckoned. My high school sister’s voice carried through the open screen door of our house. Even though we went to different schools, we both left at the same time. My mother never trusted me to make it to my fourth grade classroom on my own, so, she left that job to my sister. In return, she got an extra dollar on her allowance each week! I am nine years old thank you very much! There is no need for me to be babysat on the way to school. I know very well, not to be attracted when someone calls, â€Å"free candy,† and pulls up in a white van. Either way, mom said I have to be walked, so, there we are every day, walking, side by side to Lincoln Elementary. But still, she is getting paid. Grace could be a bit more patient with a†¦show more content†¦I looked up and saw the reflection of the familiar braid of brunette hair laying across my shoulder. My lips parted just enough to see the glistening, of my teeth in the mirror. â€Å"Come oonnnnn Hopieeeee!† mother sang. Just as they had before, my feet carried me down the stairs to my awaiting mum. â€Å"Alright,† she exclaimed. â€Å"I assume those teeth are brushed this time, so lets get the show on the road.† Crossing the kitchen, I played hopscotch along the tile floor. Quigley, our brown mutt, jumped up in excitement behind me and his paws too, bounded down the tile floor. â€Å"Sorry Quigs, but I’m not sure that is quite how you play,† My mom jokingly explained. She reached down to pat his head and he wagged his tail, as if to say, â€Å"I love you too!† With that, the Quig man pranced over to me, wanting attention from his favorite person in the world. â€Å"Here bud, I got some snacks that smile back!† I tossed them into the air just so he could reach. But, like all the other times, his big, brown, dog lips got in the way and the treat fell onto the floor. i sighed and then turned in the direction of the stove . â€Å"7:45!!† I shouted. â€Å"We’re late! We’re late, for a very important date!† My cheeks were pushed up slightly with a grin of satisfaction, knowing that I had found a more appropriate time to use my punch-line. Giggling, I called back goodbye to Quigley and leaped out the door. skipping towards the blue minivan, I slung my backpack across my pink covered back.Show MoreRelatedPaul Johnson, Murder / Mystery / Thriller / Suspense1241 Words   |  5 PagesPaul Johnson, Murder/Mystery/Thriller/Suspense, author - Paul Johnson is 29 and  ¾. He says that with the smiley face symbol. He could be considered as an author with all the rights of its definition, but the word creative artist might be more fitting. To describe him in those terms would require a further question. What kind of artist? The Canadian, native who was born and continues to live in Calgary, Alberta, has always dabbled in art in some form or another. 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