Global Classroom Creative Writing Anthology 2015
The Blue Lake
I am never going to forget the blue lake, in the middle of the Swiss Alps. Its magical azure waters were trapped between the enormous mountains like a lovely princess
prisoner in a dungeon surrounded by great towers of the castle. High cliffs emerged over this lake shading it from the sun. The waves of the lake gently flapped on the coast
like a mother’s palm stroking a child. A path went around the lake, with special panels telling you about this natural creation. An enigmatic dark fir forest surrounded these
theurgic waters. It was filled with shafts and huge boulders, hiding the magnificent blue lake. There were all sorts of plants, long ferns, smooth moss in this forest like the
amount of treasures in Ali Baba’s cave. Old tree trunks were resting at the bottom of the lake like bodies of dead people in a cemetery. The majestic look of the lake was
twinkling in my eyes like a luminescent diamond. I had a feeling that this lake was the crystal tear of God himself when he looked at our miserable world.
It was the evening. The stars in the night sky twinkled so beautifully and were so clear that it looked like you were really in space. The giant yellow moon was an owl’s eye
carefully staring at you. The Milky Way stretched through the black sky like a road connecting our universe and the unknown. The high glaciers still reflected the bare sunlight
which covered them with its red blood.
Not many sounds were present the day I saw this lake. The forest was completely silent and mysterious, except for some rare branches cracking under the gentle breath of
the wind. The leaves started to whisper between themselves as soon as a breeze passed through. Even more rare were the sounds of some birds flying over the lake, croaking
at its beauty. The light constant flapping of the small waves calmed and relaxed you to a perfect feeling. In the distance, you could hear the rattling noise of a violent mountain
river making its way through the stones.
The conifer smell came from the surrounding forest. It mixed with the smell of the lake. This made it a wonderful perfume, so nice that you would probably take a few deep
breaths of this aroma and feel how it tickles your lungs. As this lake is located in the middle of the mountains, far from any big human settlement, the air here was completely
pure, saturating your lungs. Someone who lives in a city would immediately smell it. This scent made the atmosphere even more delightful.
Where He Lost
The first thing he was aware of was the dank, coarse sand between his toes, sharp shards of shells pricked his bare feet and he shifted in the clammy sand. The hard,
flat expanse of ocean was to his right: infinite and isolating, as it extended to the horizon. The ocean spume frothed along the beach, coating seaweed and litter in a thin
layer of foam. In the background the throb of the sea continued, the relentless grating swish of the sea as it drew in breath to reveal greying sand like rotten teeth. Heavy,
ominous were the skies above, seeming to muffle the world and linger, the clouds stretched to the horizon mingling with the sea in a smoky haze.
Behind him, the rhythmic clicking of the dancing girl began again; a decrepit machine shuddered out the tune she danced to. The girl, so out of place in his crumbling
dreams as she swayed to the music, was clapping and twirling, the sand spattered as her feet shifted and dragged. She pretended at this happiness. He saw it in her eyes,
which were fixed straight into the distance, and even the cheerful moves could not mask the fact that she found it monotonous. The bright, neon flowers strung on their
garland bouncing off the girl’s chest as she whirled around, but the plastic pinkness was just another lie: a blow to the fragments of his hopes.
He searched for something he could understand and found a festering fish bobbed in the eddies on the shore, two bedraggled seagulls hopping and flapping round the
carcass, screeching as they pecked aggressively at each other. He watched them squabble until the odour attracted another bird who also tore at the meat, shredding it
then chased the scattered morsels along the foamy shore.
Their webbed feet pattered over the previous prints of tourists who’d walked this dismal beach, he wondered dully if they had had the same divine hopes and wild
expectations, then to have them smothered by the wr ]