Describe a party in full swing, and then what the place is like when all the visitors have gone home. [25]
Flowing from the stereo, the beats of music bumped and thumped up and down, the disco-jockey directing the dancer’s drops and dives. Cups of fizzy, mellow orange soda sloshed from side to side as arms waved and swayed, the sweet, tangy liquid gulped down in a frenzy before heads push through the squashed crowd to reach out at the punch table, where the aroma of cheesy Cheetos, salty potato chips, sour yet tangy ranch and hot cheesy pizza wafted into the stuffy, warm air.
The comfy cornflower couch was crammed with countless numbers packed in a chattering crowd, each one seeming to croon to the music, like parrots squawking constantly. Spots of multi-colored red, green, blue light whirled and gleamed against the shiny make-up lathered on their faces and the slick gel in their hair as they stomped their high heels and flat Converse to the blasting music. Sharp darts and round rubber balls moved across the room, accompanied by an “ooh” or “aah” each time one landed. Eyelids closing heavily, I drifted off into an elusive dream, like a puppy taking a short nap after rampant playtime.
Suddenly, the thud of the door shook me awake to reality - echoing through the empty hall, breaking the eerie silence, complementing the chilly air drifting in from the half-open window. Bleach! The pungent after-taste dwelling in mouth couldn’t nearly be soothed by the chunks left on the messy paper plates scattered on the floor, neither could it be assuaged by the pools of brown and yellow liquid on the table that had lost their fizz.
I gauged each step through the fur hats and coats lying strewn, goosebumps forming on my arms at the thought that each one might snap and bounce to life. Steadily, sunlight began to pour through the window, illuminating in a bright, mellow light, revealing the aftermath of the quake of a party. It was seldom when quiet moments occurred, as rare as a four-leafed clover. It’s always good to celebrate, but sometimes it’s good to be left to one’s own thoughts - and not a mess left to clean!
Flowing from the stereo, the beats of music bumped and thumped up and down, the disco-jockey directing the dancer’s drops and dives. Cups of fizzy, mellow orange soda sloshed from side to side as arms waved and swayed, the sweet, tangy liquid gulped down in a frenzy before heads push through the squashed crowd to reach out at the punch table, where the aroma of cheesy Cheetos, salty potato chips, sour yet tangy ranch and hot cheesy pizza wafted into the stuffy, warm air.
The comfy cornflower couch was crammed with countless numbers packed in a chattering crowd, each one seeming to croon to the music, like parrots squawking constantly. Spots of multi-colored red, green, blue light whirled and gleamed against the shiny make-up lathered on their faces and the slick gel in their hair as they stomped their high heels and flat Converse to the blasting music. Sharp darts and round rubber balls moved across the room, accompanied by an “ooh” or “aah” each time one landed. Eyelids closing heavily, I drifted off into an elusive dream, like a puppy taking a short nap after rampant playtime.
Suddenly, the thud of the door shook me awake to reality - echoing through the empty hall, breaking the eerie silence, complementing the chilly air drifting in from the half-open window. Bleach! The pungent after-taste dwelling in mouth couldn’t nearly be soothed by the chunks left on the messy paper plates scattered on the floor, neither could it be assuaged by the pools of brown and yellow liquid on the table that had lost their fizz.
I gauged each step through the fur hats and coats lying strewn, goosebumps forming on my arms at the thought that each one might snap and bounce to life. Steadily, sunlight began to pour through the window, illuminating in a bright, mellow light, revealing the aftermath of the quake of a party. It was seldom when quiet moments occurred, as rare as a four-leafed clover. It’s always good to celebrate, but sometimes it’s good to be left to one’s own thoughts - and not a mess left to clean!
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