Art Center Creative Writing

Leaves fall on the floor and the clouds circle around the sky. The clouds sway in the breeze with the wind. A street circles around the city and a little building sits in the middle. The building, also known as the art center, houses many art pieces and tools. The door leads to a long hallway, a few doors, and finally a huge, open space. Brown tables are spaced out evenly, with white chairs placed on each side. The room is split among many artists. The artists include the painters, sculptures, and many more.
Sal, a teenage girl, comes running in, late and out of breath. Her long hair is tied up on a messy bun and her appearance is not professional. Her blue and plaid patterned shirt in untucked. On top of that, her pants are ripped
and her shoes are untied. A pencil, that looks like it has been used since she was born, sits on her ear. Out of her pocket, fly many sketches, pretty ones, that depict nature, trees, and empty roads because she doesn't like cars. Papers flying everywhere, she makes her way to another boy.
Henry, a neat boy, sits in a chair behind a big desk.
His hair is combed back and he is wearing a nice outfit. His shirt, fresh out of the wash, holds two pens in his pocket. Two pencils lay on his desk and the spines of his sketchbooks are perfectly aligned. He sits patiently, calm, and contained, not even yelling at Sal’s lame excuses for coming in late. Sal’s excuse has to be good or else she might not work with Henry.
“Sorry for coming in late,” Sal says. “I promise not to do it again.”
“What’s your excuse today?” Henry asks, rolling his eyes. “It better be a good one, not like any of your other ones.”
“Okay, okay, hear me out: I found the most beautiful tree I have ever seen in my life,” Sal states.
“And?” Henry questions.
“And I think it would be a great sketch to put in the memory book!” Sal says excitingly.
“Is the memory book going to be for your mom?” Henry asks. “The memory book is for my mom. It will contain pictures of her in her golden days,” says Sal. “I think that if I make another one for you brother, my mom would be happy. Is that a good idea?” “That’s a great idea!” Henry’s mood just changed and now his can’t contain his excitement. “Where should we start?” Sal replies, “I think we should both sketch what our family members
like.” Henry explained, “That’s a great idea! How about we both start sketching what they like. Then, we can put them in a scrap book. I think they’ll love it!” Grabbing her sketchbook and pencil, Sal says, “I am going to start sketching right away.” “Me too,” Henry says. “I hope they’ll like it. What are you going to draw?” “I am planning on drawing anything that has to do with nature. How about you?” asks Sal. “One thing always pops in my mind when I think of my brother,” Henry voices. “Baseball.” “Oh, I forgot he loved baseball.” Sal says. “Well we should start working on this quickly,” Henry says. “Time is running low.” “What do you mean?” Sal stuttered. “I…. I…. I’m moving,” Henry murmurs with a frown on his face. Once again his mood changed, but not a happy or sad one, an angry one. “Oh, why haven’t you told me?” Sal says with frown on her face, similar to Henry’s. “I don’t want to leave, my parents want to leave. They say it is a better and safer place overall,” cries Henry. “It’s fine. You don’t need to cry about it. I will always be by your side, in spirit, or true presence,” explains Sal. “Where are you moving?” Henry replies, “Back to frenchtown, where I was before here.” “Well that’s good, at least you know about the place. You’ll probably find friends there,” Sal claims. “I guess it’s a good place,” Henry states picking up his bag of tools. “I’m going to go back home.” “No wait!” Sal yells. “I can’t,” Henry yells back. Henry vanishes from sight. A fun project for their family members turned into a sad moment for both friends. They both disappear not knowing that was the last time they have seen each other.