Image Source: Pexels- Javier Gonzalez

It was 4:30 P.M. as I stepped out of my tiny house and started wandering down the path headed toward the wharf. The sun was setting; it felt peaceful in a way. Birds were chirping, and the air smelled like freshly mown grass through each light gust of wind. The pathway was made of smooth rocky tiles, which looked damp under the streetlamp lights. The moon shone brightly above the first house on the street as people were wandering the opposite way, back down the wharf towards their homes, to be safe and warm. So many people… My breathing became shallow as the path slowly became darker, as I was heading toward the light, toward the wharf. All the peacefulness was slowly drifting away. The ocean was becoming closer as the world became darker. The waves came crashing down on the rocks as I stepped onto the wharf. The sky went from a bright blue, to green, to yellow, then orange, then turned into an angry, deep, deep red…

My heart slowed as I neared the end of the wharf. The waves got heavier and crashed down harder, but the sky remained a deep, angry red. My head felt heavy; it became hard to breathe. Scared, scared, scared. The wind slowed to nothing, and that euphoric feeling disappeared. The birds had disappeared while the angry world crept in around me. I felt small, I felt like nothing.

My head started to spin, I am at the end of the wharf now, standing here trying my hardest not to scream. Everything feels too much for me; my body is shaking. Each hit of the waves is making the wharf shake, making me shake uncontrollably. A roll of thunder pounds in the sky as a bolt of lightning turns the angry red sky into a world of madness. Panicking, panicking, panicking. I feel cold, like death has overcome my body, the wind has returned but not like before, its icy cold chill cuts through my core like a sword… like there’s no life anywhere but all around me. Cold, cold, cold. My vision blackens at the corners of my eyes, cold and shaking, my heart slows to nearly nothing, my breathing turns to gasping, like there is no more air left to breathe.

The pretty colors of the earth have now turned to a grey scale palette, all colors have been drained from my vision, except for the deep, deep red of the scary night sky. I drop down onto my knees before sucking in a breath as big as I can, barely any air enters my racing lungs, but I still scream. A shaky, quiet scream which echoes throughout the air. Was it even a scream? Or was it my imagination thinking that I screamed? Did anyone hear me? Or am I alone? Am I alive? Or is this how it feels to be dead? I stand back up, and start running, I start crying as I struggle to see in the darkness, as I struggle to think inside my foggy head. My head turns cold, my vision blackens, and I start to fall…

Down… towards the floor of the wharf… but I trip and start to fall sideways…

Down… towards a dark, scary ocean…

Down… towards death itself

… I don’t know what to do, but before I hit the dark, gloomy, deathly ocean, I let out another

S…C…R…E…A…M…

About This Piece

‘The Scream’ is an imaginative piece that I created in year 11 English Advanced. We were given a photo of Edvard Munch’s artwork, “The Scream, 1893,” and then asked to create an imaginative piece based on the artwork.

This writing piece also had a justification/reflection side to it as well:

In my short imaginative writing task, the aim was to affect how the reader felt while reading this short story. I used repetition to outline the changing emotions of the character; the repetition also alerts the reader to pay attention to what is happening in the story. I used smell, feeling, and sight to help enhance the mood and change of the character’s mindset, which helps the reader keep up with what is happening to the character in the story. I used first-person writing to show more emotion and feeling in this piece, which also allows the reader to understand the main character’s thoughts and feelings better. I think I also used a bit of imagery in my story to create a better picture in my readers’ minds.

This was written by our contributing writer, Alisha Blanch.


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