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Barn Owl by Gwen Harwood - Creative Writing Prompt (See Below)

Creative Writing Prompt: Write What You Believe the Conversation the Night Before Was Like.

I could feel my anger slowly rising within my chest, as I argued with my father at the dinner table.

Why cant I hang out with my friends!? People finally want to hang out with me, so why cant I go out with them? I argue. Dinner almost always went like this. My father doesnt understand, he keeps me locked up in this old and creaky farmhouse, on this old and stupid farm in the middle of nowhere. I dont have any siblings, so I always had to entertain myself. Sometimes I may walk to the creek near my house and catch fish and tadpoles. But my father needs to understand that Im not going to be his little girl forever, I need to spread my wings and leave the nest eventually.

Because I dont know them, my father argues back. That is always his excuse. I never get to hang out with my friends after school, on the weekends, or during school holidays. I only see them at my local primary school. Sometimes during class, I would dream of a life where I could always hang out with my friends, and have the prettiest dresses and makeup, where all the boys would bow to me and never do me wrong. But unfortunately for me, its only a dream.

You can meet them tomorrow, I try, they can pick me up, and you can have a chat with them. Theyre not going to hurt me. I, ever so slowly, looked up to my father with hope in my ocean blue eyes, as he was considering my suggestion.

No. He responded and continued eating his mashed potatoes and pork chop. All my hope drained away from my ocean blue eyes. I could feel my fiery anger quickly spreading throughout my fists, my spindle-thin arms and legs, through my chest and out my mouth I yelled, why cant I!? Im 12, not 7. I can take care of myself, I complained.

No. And thats my final answer, my father said sternly. I could feel my tears swelling up in my eyes. I stood up so quickly the dining room chair flew back and hit the old wall of the farmhouse. I looked at my father apologetically, my father looked back at me with anger in his eyes.

Go to your room, he demanded, I hesitated at the tone of his voice he very rarely used at me, I could tell he was disappointed in me, now!

I stamped my feet along the old wooden floor of our house, and down the hallway with the direction of my bedroom, and slammed my bedroom door, I heard it echo through the house. I heard my father grunt as the bang from slamming my door startled him.

My father needs to learn that I am not his obedient angel like daughter I used to be, I wanted to rebel against my no-sayer father. As I slowly drifted off to sleep, I thought of a way I could rebel against him. An evil grin formed across my soon to be non-innocent face.

* Hello, please let me know if you like this. In case you're wondering what the poem Barn Owl is about, it's about a young girl rebelling to her father by taking his gun early one morning, going to the old barn and killing it. I highly recommend you read the poem, it's quite interesting.

Thanks,

Hayley S.