In the Center of It All

Author's Note: Yesterday, we took a reading test, and there were so many words I didn't know, and I'm not the type of person that can look it up and memorize it, I have to actually use it.  In this piece the blue words are words I didn't know, and I tried to use them in a sentence; I hope it makes sense.  There were also some writing techniques I learned and tried to use too: satire and allusion.

The morning subway train whizzed by, as I sat in the diner at the station.  Pale yellow tiles and the scarlet booths made the scene look like a restaurant from the 60s.  Right outside the window was reality -- the hustle and bustle of the real world.  People with their usual everyday garb.  Sometimes in that bunch there would be one person dress for an occasion, and when you came back from your trip, they would be back on the bench, eyes swollen and red, because there day wasn't a fairytale. 

Seeing the slovenly station through the window began to make me think to much about if I should be here, so I became listless of that dark tunnel and turned back to the black and white sheet in front of me.  The obituaries were very long two day -- a whole two pages of the paper just to give others despair.  Apparently, a famous actress known for her breath taking asides was mauled by a psychotic biped of which species they do not know, or what ever they said to spark up the media.  In another location, there was a regicide.  Although, the convicted murderer was conspicuous and left evidence within the vicinity of the crime scene.  After the many depressing stories I folded up the paper and shoved it into my handbag. 

Today I was on a "mission".  For the last five years I've pushed people away, but after I met this one person, I decided to go introspecting, looking into myself.  My first stop was my grandmother's house.  Ever since Grandpa died, she has been the antithesis of social.  She likes it when people visit; it helps her with consoling. 

Next stop, on my train ride to restarting, was the home of my adversaries . . .  My little brother and his wife, Beth.  Beth just been an annoyance me; maybe it's the way that she is always so indecorous, from living styles to just her way of life.  And I've always had contempt towards her,  she's contradictory to any proper woman of our time.  I'll bet that she'll be just rapturous to see me when she opens up that creaky old door and lets the apposite life clean up their ways. 

When she responded to the gentle ding of the doorbell, I immediately sense the repulsive aroma of a meal she failed to create.  Instead of causing a fracas, I accepted her warm "hello". . .

Believe me when I say this, I could not have stayed any longer than I did.  It was like watching the Grinch set all your Christmas decorations on fire.  It was horrific.  Now, I am completely fine, in this tiny little room; after all it's just a sojourn.  I'm just about to let my mind drift off when I hear something.  People running around this tiny cabin, or maybe away from the building.  I try to open the door, but it won't budge.  Smoke fills the room and I have no where to go.  The alarm dies and I feel as if I am, too.  I have elated myself, and I couldn't want any more to stop right now and right here.