Creative wrtitng

Creative Writing 15/10/2008


The man walking down the street had a big dark leather mac. The street was quiet with quaint little houses it was midnight and stormy the rain was falling down heavy and fast beating down upon his face. The door is closed stopping him from entering his house it’s a wooden door with a small step and not much shelter.

He searches franticly for his keys getting wetter as the minutes go by, then he drops them its very dark and it’s making it harder for him to see them. He’s now on his knees desperately trying to find the keys his trousers are soaked at the knees and covered in mud could this situation be any worse. Finally he finds his keys and opens the door as he opens the door he falls through the door and crashes into his hall way. Suddenly the lights go on and a voice shouts what’s going on hear? He looks up and his wife is standing at the top of the stairs looking rather miffed.

I couldn’t find my keys dear, sorry!

You silly old man, why didn’t you just ring the door bell like any normal person?

I didn’t want to wake you up he replied, well it’s to late now take all those wet clothes off and put some dry ones on or you will catch a cold.


After getting changed in to some clean and dry clothes he makes a drink to warm himself up. What a dreadful night he thinks to himself I’m glad that I’m home and it’s over time for bed I think.


Well just as he is climbing the stairs he hears a great big crash what was that? He runs into the front room and he can’t believe his eyes there is glass everywhere, the rain and wind is rushing through his window in the middle of his front room was the great big oak tree from the front garden.