Thursday, 17 November 2011

Morning Musings

One of my modules as part of my English Language and Literature degree is Creative Writing. The first assignment required us to write a short piece of prose, which could be fiction, autobiographical or biographical. I ended up writing about Calvin and what our mornings are like. The majority is true, except for the ending, as Calvin certainly isn’t up for a snooze after stuffing his face! I needed to wrap the piece up though. I scored a respectable 77% for the assignment, which included more than this and I hope you enjoy it!

Morning Musings

I’m fast asleep dreaming of something sweet and peaceful. Gradually, my head becomes as light as a feather and I drift into reality once more. My eyes are firmly shut, feeling heavy from sleep, but suddenly my ears are filled with the sound of tiny feet charging up the stairs. I half smile and half grumble to myself, pulling my soft quilt over my head. The feet stop momentarily outside my bedroom door and then merrily tap dance in onto my wooden floor. I purposely keep still for dramatic effect and can sense a pair of eyes surveying the scene. I hear a sniff of satisfaction closely followed by a cold wet nose on my skin, as my cheeky Labrador cross Golden Retriever greets me. Letting out a quiet giggle, I stretch for my clock to find out the time. Although my eyes are now wide open they see nothing but blackness.
‘The time is seven twenty four a.m.’ announces the chirpy lady inside my clock, clearly more awake than I am.
‘Oh Calvin, you couldn’t wait six whole minutes?!’ I hear myself croak wearily. His tail begins to beat rhythmically off of my wardrobe in response, as if to say
‘rise and shine!’. Reluctantly, the covers are thrown off, much to Calvin’s delight, as he shuffles on the spot in excitement. Knowing my surroundings like the back of my hand, I gracefully and confidently make my way downstairs not stopping to turn any lights on in the process.

My first glimpse of the time of day occurs when I open the curtains in the living room that reveals the garden to Calvin and daylight to me. However, even though I can only see a sheet of white light that represents a new day, I can envisage exactly what the garden’s appearance is from my childhood memory. Immediately beyond the patio door is hexagonal paving, natural stone mixed with salmon pink slabs. To the left, the side of the shed can be seen, once with a white rectangular window, but more recently it was painted blue, yet I can only imagine the original setting. Directly ahead is the pond surrounded by the lawn, small trees and bushes. The water was always a disgusting looking green, as the little black statue of a man never spouted fresh water. It’s amazing to think that creatures can survive in the murky water that is probably closer to black these days. My garden isn’t an exhilarating illustration to the naked eye, but to me the picture is a masterpiece, embedded in my visual memory, the only vision that I have retained.

I slide the patio door open, stepping out into the morning breeze, unfashionably dressed with my pink paw patterned ‘wellies’ and knee high winter coat over my pyjamas. Shadowing me every step of the way is Calvin, the furry set of eyes that I have acquired. He’s not looking out for me now, far too focused on uncrossing his paws. I pull down on the entrance gate to his spending area that makes a loud clunking noise, disturbing the birds’ morning tune. I find myself fantasising that there are birds of every shape, colour and size singing in harmony; blue tits, red breasted robins, black birds and sunshine yellow canaries.
I command Calvin to
‘busy busy’ but being well trained he’s one step ahead of me and an unpleasant whiff meets my nose causing my nostrils to flare. Ecstatic with his achievement Calvin develops a swagger in his walk mirroring Danny Zuko in Grease. He licks his chops raucously which allows me to hear a ‘sloppy slurp’, as he communicates his hunger.
‘breakfast?’ I squeal in a high pitched tone, more awake due to the freshness of the air upon my face. We race inside, the change in temperature slightly burning my cheeks. Calvin sits poised waiting for the ‘take it’ command before he gorges himself, eating so vigorously just in case the food magically disappears before him. Stomach emptied and filled again, my furry set of eyes grabs a cuddly toy, snuggles up in his bed and begins to snore. He’s fast asleep, dreaming of something sweet and peaceful, whilst I’m fully alert, wondering if he’d find it amusing if I were to repeat his deed and wake him up!

1 comment:

Jen said...

That was great! Your a great writer!