Creative Writing


Weather rattled against the canopy overhead

And the branches whimpered and sighed in the wind,

Thick, brittle things like the arms and legs of innocent insects.

The sun was dipping low, its orange glow piercing

And disappearing between glimmers of growth.

Dust and dirt and grime and grit

All gathering together and becoming stronger

And thicker

And bigger,

Like a storm brewing

Like a predator waiting

Like a God watching

Like a moment becoming.

From the sights of the trail, eyes level with snakes

And monkeys with ten arms and insects that can laugh,

You see all that you wanted

The very words whispered in your ear

That had been whispered for years since you were a child,

“Welcome to Mydinova,”

You take a deep breath and step forward.

Everything awaits.

The forest grows thick and dense with life,

Creatures and plants and trees

Even organisms too small for the human eye,

These await you and me,

You take me by the hand

You lead me in here blind.

But I smile with excitement,

We brew with curiosity,

We are brightened with delight,

We are golden amid the beauty.

“This way,” You exclaim and pull me by my hand,

And off we go, traipsing down a trail of pinecones and sand

And beyond the jungle of your imagination

Lies an opening of your creation

Beautiful waterfalls

Endless rainbow meadows

A million dancing stars in the sky

Birds with a thousand wings and creatures with a hundred eyes

And they are everywhere and they are magnificent

And you cry out “oh, it’s wonderful!”

And we laugh and we smile

And descend down the trail into the open wild

Of Mydinova.

The tap at the door wakes us.

“Dinner!” he calls but we stay there,

Lying like dead fish,

Two scrawny freckled kids

Holding hands, taking walks

Through the wild and limitless world

Of our imagination.


She called it.

It only ever existed in our minds

And now that she is no more,

Only my half is left behind.

But sometimes,

Just once or twice,

One in a hundred days,

I’ll lie down on my bed in my small dark apartment,

And I’ll travel through the maze of forests and open plains

And I’ll find her there,

My oldest and purest friend.

She laughs, freer than anything we ever knew

And I smile, just for a small, brief and delicate moment,

I smile, once again.

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About Author

Quin Finlay

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November 2021
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The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

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