Note: I found this on my bookshelf during a recent trip to my parents’ home in Houston. This is THE piece that opened my eyes and made me determined, at age 9, to be a writer. I had to laugh when I reread it, because it’s not very good, but hey, for a kid, it could be a lot worse. I present it here for nostalgia’s sake. All errors have been left intact. This is what I turned in to Mr. Peden’s Study Skills class at Kinkaid Summer School, what got me an A+, and what set the course for the rest of my life.
A cool breeze swept over the pond, creating ripples in all directions. The lily pads were pushed, some toppled over, releasing their lilies into the clear green water. One touch of this refreshingly cool water, and heaven is on the way. The silky, sparkling pond is like no other in this universe. From the way it shines to the way it feels, it is different.
The colors that cover the temples describe the joy that each person feels as they enter the heavenly domain. Each painting, each statue, each name that was engraved in the wooden walls is equally special. No person has the power to dishonor the statues of Buddha. But he has the power to do so to them. Buddha, and several other Gods are delightfully decorated with colors like red, blue, green, yellow, orange, even gold and bronze. Candles help the sunlight/moonlight keep the temples visible, and they also show that others believe, and worship the Gods. The names that were carved in the idols were of those who helped build the park. Paintings and scrolls have been hung up by people who respect their property, and worship the Gods.
Smells, sweet smells, most of them from restaurants nearby. All the smells combined made the most delicious aroma ever smelled. The cinnamon smell of rolls at a bakery, the flowers in the park, and the perfume of the lady outside the park’s grey stone wall, and black gates of the entrance to the park. All scents smelled, were gifts from the Gods to the park visitors. All scents were absolutely wonderful.
The sounds so powerful, so enchanting, that listeners are immediately under a spell. The birds insist on making an encore, and the crunching leaves also wish to play. A drumming part is their choice. People chatting are acting like the violins in an orchestra. So furious, yet so calm. All the sounds are conducted by one creature, the lonely squirrel. His nut cracking is everyones’, including the animals’, signal to start performing.
New Park is most deifnitely the most beautiful place I have ever seen!
