Essay on Creative Writing GILF - 1672 Words

GILF When the weather turned, no one spoke to Anne about anything other than the weather; the same conversation, all day, every day until the sun returned. Glancing occasionally through the bakery window she saw the rain fall like strings of mercury, exploding into black droplets onto the pavement outside. Little drops of gloom, drops of gloom that keep us alive, that others in more remote corners of the globe tempt with elaborate dance. Anne had seen them on the Discovery channel pounding their leathered feet on the scorched, cracked earth and shaking their rain sticks at the sun and sky. With no breeze to carry the weight of a prayer their cries fall, shattered, parched and trampled underfoot. If the rain did show up the locals danced†¦show more content†¦On sunny days the world, Anne’s world seemed brighter, people were happier and if ‘anything positive’ had plans, ‘anything positive’ would turn up on a sunny day with a spring in his stride an d a tuneful whistle on his lips. Why ‘anything positive’ was Masculine Anne didn’t know, Masculine, ‘men’, ‘man’, no she had one of those before and he’d died a terrible statistic, what a way to go. Even so, despite his untimely demise Anne was, she had to admit, glad to see the back of him, idle bastard that he was. On sunny days Old women spoke about ‘Mrs Whatshername’ and her immoral habits, support tights, supper and the grand kids. Young mothers stressed about new teeth, tantrums, potty training and finding the right school whereas old men just talked about themselves. Something happened to men of a certain age Anne noticed, they completely gave up on the rest of humanity, rather they became insular and self obsessed. Nothing new is any good, it’s all bollocks, the internet is Satan, nothing is ever made like it used to be and kids are in need of a bloody good war. Rather than dwell on the state of the world they shut out everything else but themselves, become blinkered and bitter. Their wives, if they still have them, become ghosts long before their time, shadow people that leave food on the table and wash their husband’s socks while husband spends his time pottering! Pottering never actually achieved anything in Anne’s book,