The Park - Original Writing
25 June 6:00am. As the sun slowly begins to rise, a peaceful chirping
noise comes from the birds hidden amongst the trees. The park is about
to wake from its long, tranquil and peaceful sleep.
The woodland is beginning to arise-a humming grasshopper and the odd
droning bee. The sunlight shines, making tall beams of light through
the gaps in the branches of the trees. The tall night-scary trees
become friendlier in the early morning brightness. As the woodland
prepares for another swelteringly warm, sunny day the air becomes
moist and heavy, making it hard to breathe.
When the morning sunlight hits the tall metal structures of the play
park, they breathe a sigh of relief. They are about to be played on
again. The large space will soon be full of screaming, happy children
spending a fulfilled day on the many swings, slides and roundabouts
the park has to offer.
The two tennis courts do not get used much. They are protected by a
huge green wire fence, which keeps people not wanted on the inside, on
the outside just as walls keep intruders from a castle. The heavily
padlocked door remains locked as the key is kept in the firm grip of
the angry park keepers' hand.
Gentle rippling waves caress the surface of the pond. The reeds of the
pond sway gently back and forwards like adoring football fans with
their scarves held aloft at a football match while the moor hens begin
their everlasting quest for food jerking their heads like small black
snakes. The park is prepared for the grueling day ahead.
It was 6am and Barry the park keeper's alarm began ringing loudly.
Barry yawned and tried to wipe the crusty sleep from his eyes with his
shirtsleeve. He was very annoyed. It had been a week now. Beer cans
were strewn everywhere branches had been viciously snapped off the
trees and graffiti was sprayed all over the children's play park. It
made Barry red with rage. Dirty graffiti he thought, evil cans. He
decided it was time to go on his morning inspection of the park, the
park he cared for and loved. That's when he saw it. Walking towards
the play park, he found the first sign of vandalism: a beer can strewn
on the floor; its shiny label glinting in the morning sunlight. He
picked up the can and tossed it into the black binbag, which he was
gripping the top of ever tighter each time he found another piece of
rubbish. If the top of the bin bag had been a neck, the person would
be dead by now. After collecting all the rubbish and the broken
branches and had tried to scrub off another piece of 'art' from the
slide in the play park the park was beginning to fill up with many
varied types of people. Rather like extras crowding onto a film set.
There were weary mothers pushing prams, teenagers flying through the
park on rollerblades and smart, bold...