Dark Side of the Court - Original Writing Essay -- Papers

Dark Side of the Court - Original Writing As the searing sun slowly set in the attractive ginger hued sky, a rusted and ramshackle vehicle laboured along Oakland Hill Road in such a manner that it seemed as if it weren’t meant to reach its destination. What now seemed a worthless hunk of scrap to onlookers used to be a vibrant red special edition Ford, though so much time had passed that it had little resemblance to what it once was, besides the shape. It had been serviced a few times in its fifteen year history, the last one being almost six protracted years ago; the year ‘she’ had left the two who were seated inside, amongst the filthy interior. The owner of the dilapidated Ford was surveying the road for the correct house, number 62, as the two had only recently moved from Boston to Philadelphia. Out of the open window on the front passenger’s side popped a small, pale white hand, which motioned as if it were pointing at something. ‘Look dad, there it is,’ muttered the son, who was quite obviously not overjoyed at the event. ‘Ah ha, finally we made it, eh Timmy?’ exclaimed the father, attempting to ignore his son’s attitude. Timmy, or Tim for short, didn’t give an answer but was amusing himself by avidly watching a faded green leaf fall gracefully from the tree in front of their new home; a modestly sized semi-detached wooden house, which had belonged to a friend who had recently moved abroad. With the car finally at rest, the two stepped in front of their new home. There was an uneasy silence between the two whilst they unloaded the car in an almost machine-like fashion. 'I sure hope I have the key!' Tim's fathe... ... of his head. David’s hand became strangely spasmodic. Nevertheless, he gripped the torch with both hands and forced it toward the darkness. The powerful beam penetrated it like a knife through butter. David took a huge gulp as he slowly but surely searched around. Roy was shaken by a massive gust of wind that almost knocked the mighty guy clean off his feet; he recaptured his balance uneasily before hearing the torch drop hard onto the court floor. He turned in disgust at the illuminated sight. ‘I’m so sorry David. I’m sorry that I was right about those kids.’ Roy spoke sympathetically, but wasn’t heard. The wind wailed as though it were a banshee. David simply stood without any palpitation, rock solid and pale. His head was burning with guilt as he gazed at his son, who lay dead on the dark side of the court.