Creative Writing: The sin Creative Writing: The sin It is the quintessence of monotony: a mountain chain of laurel wreath that lies atop fallow lots the size of kitchen magnets. Welcome to suburbia. I effortlessly enter my pervious pastel palace, moreover the voyage to my room is an uphill battle; it is quite an insurmountable quest. The affect to my cell consists of a frozen spiral staircase. It is not facile and slippery, though, but rocky and perilous. The portal lies beyond the staircase I force my way through the abrasive forcefield of forbiddance. The shrieks of my tearing shape are subdued by the overpowering silence of the room.
spoken language are mouthed, but not spoken. They do not exist. This galvanising cell of torment does not allow language, the embodiment of opposition. As I step into my room, I notice all colour of the spectrum for a fraction of a second, then they appear red. limitless pictures endow the walls; they are all of one person. I crawl in her, but who is she? He...If you want to get a full essay, consecrate it on our website:
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