Creative Writing Course 1: Descriptive Personal Narrative

(In 250-500 words write a descriptive personal narrative)

The only light in the room came from the hall through a bedroom door that was left slightly ajar. That little bit of light was responsible for deterring all sorts of monsters and villains. My children looked as if a cinematographer designed the lighting to slide across their smooth, restful faces to create a sense of peace. And it was peaceful—the sound of soft nasal breathing accompanied by an occasional sigh or snort or smacking lips. I could have fallen asleep in there, had I no other purpose. The room was warm and the air smelled musty. Why is it that children sweat in their sleep? In contrast to the warmth, the metal bedframe that my feet rested upon, was cold and kept me awake and alert.

I examined the corner of the tattered comforter that hung from my eldest’s sons top bunk. Perhaps it was time for new bedding, but there is always something to buy in a house with young children. I could spend a small fortune re-outfitting beds for all five children. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the children were happy and had yet to complain about it. Bedding would have to wait.

I looked around the room. There were books strewn all about. They were stacked on dressers, tucked under pillows, and propped against the radio. Some, miraculously, were actually put away on the bookshelf. Unfortunately many books were also all over the floor. Between them and random items of clothing there wasn’t nearly any place to safely step. Then I noticed that the clothes draped out of the hamper as well. Perhaps it wasn’t the well-used bedding that needed attention. The whole room could use a good tidying.

I turned my attention once more towards the children. My littlest’s hair wantonly tussled in every direction. My daughters bangs stuck to her damp forehead. My eldest had pulled the blanket up over the back of his head. He gathered the blanket taut around his face, for breathing I’d assume, and I could see that he was still wearing his glasses.

Despite all the conflict of the day and all the messes they made, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a sense of love—a swelling of the emotions that wet my eyes and warmed my heart. They were mine and I was theirs. They depended upon me and I upon them. We were family and I could feel that as if it were something tangible in that quiet, dark, warm room.