Creative Writing
I glanced outside to a scene of white foam spray rhythmically beating against the window slowly subsiding to crystal droplets that streaked silently down the glass revealing the horizon beyond. Beautiful. Picturesque. As if painted onto the blank expanse. The delicate droplets dancing, only in view for seconds before being once again covered in a wall of pure white water.
I sighed loudly, my breath leaving condensation on the window temporarily blurring my view of the twirling tempest and exposing my half-reflection cast on the pane.
All was calm in here at least. The sound of the rain and waves, waves and rain had lulled me into a groggy state as the trundling train rocked back and forth.
I stared back at my reflection; observing the features of my face: sunken and shallow. I was not yet fully awake. As the condensation faded, I was at once met again with the tempest chasing, dancing, bubbling alongside the train testing and teasing all who looked.
Glancing down at my phone, I recoiled at the sudden brightness of my lock screen. Checking the time I fumbled it back into my pocket. My gaze once again met the glass. The ocean had turned more violent, annoyed that it's rage was going un noticed by the passengers. Unheard. Competing against the hum-buzz of the yellow bar-lights that flickered in the carriages, the rain on metal on metal and the swirling wind.
James KS4