Creative Writing †My Baby Free Essays

I was walking in the thick white snow, my cheeks pale pink, and my eyes wet, from the cold, razor-sharp wind that seemed to blow across my face. My hands in my pocket, and my head down prevented me from seeing my way, so I raised my head. All of a sudden, my eyes met his across the street; he was tall, with sea blue eyes and long strawberry blond hair, which made him look ugly. We will write a custom essay sample on Creative Writing – My Baby or any similar topic only for you Order Now But his eyes distracted me from seeing his flaws. His small white teeth showing in a smile, when he returned my stare. I was warm; my cheeks grew bright red, my eyes flooded with admiration for his looks. â€Å"Was it love or lust†? I thought as, I continued to stare at him. He was so kind, loving and caring, with a great personality that always made me smile, while I slept. He constantly made me feel good, and I loved him so much; that I could stay awake just to hear him breathing. Due to the fact that we were so young, we couldn’t consummate our love for one another. I was 17, and he was 18, when we both decided that we should take our love to the next level. We wanted it to be special, so we could treasure the moment for the rest of our lives, therefore we lied to our parents about where we were going. We stayed in a cottage, which had a fire place. We made love in front of the fire place. The fire made our body, so hot, and sweaty. I smiled, keeping the pleasure from showing in my eyes. I wish could spend the rest of my life in this sweet surrender. After we made love I felt, like I have never felt before; I was far away dreaming, I was in ecstasy. The art of making love was new to me, but was exhilarating. Satisfaction drowned my body. Our body became one; and we shared deep love and feelings. I have no recollection of being this happy before, but we made one mistake. We forgot to use protection-condom. At school we were never taught sex education. Anytime I asked my mum, about sex she would make me wash my mouth out with soap, then take me to church and tell the priest he should pray for me, because I was turning to sin. I always laughed when she did it. So I did it often just to watch her reaction. Three months later I found out I was pregnant. I knew I was pregnant because I had missed my period for three months; also I got fat, and had morning sickness. I did not tell the father that I was pregnant. I didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have stayed anyway. But every moment I spent with him I treasured. I didn’t want to have the baby, I was too young. I thought of many ways of getting rid of the baby with out killing it. I didn’t know what to do, or who to tell. It was too much for me to handle. So I decided to tell my mum. Telling my mum was the worst. When I told, her normally blue-gray eyes grew green with hatred. Then her lips tightened against her reply â€Å"ok darling†. She did not shout, scream nor sob. I felt as if in her reply there was a plan. Six months later. I was ready to give birth. I preferred making the baby, than  giving birth to it, as I dreamt far away of the night it happened. It was as if my scream of pain, triggered the baby. My baby was born; he was small, and breathtaking. My breath was taken away when my mum said â€Å"you can’t keep him†. There was no way I could speak; my voice had gone with shock. She took my baby away from me. I turned away so she could not see the expressions in my eyes. It took a moment for the shock-wave of pain to travel down my body, to my brain. The agony was so intense that a scream involuntarily tore its way from my throat. I hated her for what she did. My mum and I lived in silence, in a house where the love had been stolen. Although I stayed to take care of her, because she was ill with Alzheimer. Since my baby was gone I had no love to give, I had put a brick wall around my heart, which was guarded by my hatred for the world. At home in the sitting room drinking my daily caffeine shot, while watching DR PHIL, and my mum rambling incoherent words to the T.V. The phone called for me. The voice came through the telephone, echoing through a corridor 12 months long. â€Å"We have an address†, said the voice on the phone, my heart started to beat loud; it got so loud it made the voice the inaudible. 314 maple road, Leicester, could be where  my son lives.  I hesitated when I got to the door. I didn’t want to ruin his happiness, in his new  life. â€Å"But my happiness has already been ruined,† I said selfishly. My finger trembled as  I rang the bell twice. A little boy answered the door. Many questions argued in my mind all at once; could he be my son? Could this be my baby? I felt happy when he spoke; â€Å"hello â€Å"said the soft voice. I could stay lost in this moment forever. How to cite Creative Writing – My Baby, Papers