My Creative Writing Piece!
This is my creative writing piece. It is about a very tall man and his struggles. After writing the piece my writing partner edited it then I revised. I am really proud of my piece and hope to do more writing in the future.
My name is Juan. I have dark brown hair and brown eyes, I’m pretty plain but I’ve always been taller than most of the people in my life. When I was in elementary school I was always in the back of school photos. In middle school I was taller than the tallest teacher, who was 6’9. Then there was high school where I was teased a lot but they couldn’t hurt me, I was to tall. They started to appreciate me when I joined the basketball team.
Now I am working in an office. A plain, boring old office. There is a dark brown desk, a light brown chair and a grey rug. The gray rug has black triangular patterns and it clashes with the beige walls. Every morning I bang my head on the dark oak door frame because I am too tall to fit through. When I sit at my desk my boney knees bang against the underneath. For work I have to wear certain clothes but the pants I need are never long enough. My feet are always crammed into shoes that don’t fit me. Shopping for beds is particularly depressing. I always sleep curled up into a ball and I just fit. Something that is a part of my daily routine is getting jokes like “How is the weather up there?” or “At least you know when it rains first.” Of course when you have long legs you must have long arms. I must be the clumsiest person you ever met. Every time I turn something falls over. When I walk I trip on my own limbs. Even the office had to baby proof everything because of the ‘clients’. I know they were protecting the office from me.
It was just like any day. I walked into the office, banged my head on the door frame and spilled the coffee on my boss and I thought she was going to comfort me, but she didn’t. She yelled and yelled and yelled. Before I knew it I was fired. Fired from the boring old office I had been working at for years. Fired by the woman in the purple pantsuit. I gathered all my things and left the glass building on 18th street.
I was looking for a job for months. I sat in my hard wooden chair searching for anything I could pass by time with. Then one day I was flipping through a newspaper and I saw this “Are you tall, handsome and incredibly muscular? Call 1-800-RUNWAYS!” So, you guessed it, I called. So what if I only fit one of the job descriptions, I would try my best. I was greeted on the phone by a woman with such a high voice I thought she was 4 years old. She told me to come over right away. I walked over to Time Square and into one of the buildings.
As I walked in I was greeted by the same women that answered the phone. She pointed me to room 131 and watched me strangely as I walked away. The room was silent when I entered. No one spoke a word of english so it was a bit awkward. The photographer pointed me to the dressing room. I peeked in and of course I was modeling pants. As I told you before pants and I don’t get along. I pulled on the first pair of jeans with no confidence in keeping this job. I walked out of the dressing room trying to seem shorter than I actually was. The photographer took one look at me and asked me to leave. I was fired on my first day for “string bean legs”. Once again I was looking for a job.
Thanksgiving was coming around and we were going to have a family get together. On Thanksgiving I saw all my relatives including my uncle who is a famous artist. He offered me a job as a painter for his company. I obviously took it.
My first painting I did was a portrait. I sat down on the stool and set up the easel. The lights in the room shone onto another chair which I assumed would sit the client. The women that I was painting walked in and sat down in front of me. She growled like I had wronged her. Then she struck a pose and I started painting. I probably should have told my uncle that I am not the best painter. When I finished the women took one look at the painting and screamed. Then she ran. And I was fired.
I had given up on finding a job. Maybe I would marry a rich woman for her fortune. I walked with my head down everywhere I went except for the one time it counted. I was walking through Central Park when I saw an old lady, about 70 crying in her hands. I walked over and asked what was wrong. She said her cat was stuck in a tree and pointed to a ginger cat. At first I thought who brings their cat to the park but then I realized I needed to help her. I walked over to the tree. Its leaves were turning orange which made it even harder to find the cat. I reached up, felt around and grasped something furry. I pulled it down safely and handed it to the old lady. She thanked me profusely and told me I was a hero.
Now I work at a fire station and my job is to save animals. It’s not the best job in the world but I love it. I am married and have 2 kids who are very tall. Everyone respects me now. My old workplace wants me back, the model agency wants me back, and my uncle wants me back but they only want me because I am special now and they lost their chance.
