The Loft

This is a setting paper I wrote for my creative writing class. The focus of the paper was to create a setting, one a reader could imagine while reading your piece.

The Loft

            Mackenzie locked the several dead bolts on her front door. She’s lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan for the past five years and her loft had never been broken into but it helped that she slept with gun under her pillow. She dropped the soaking umbrella on to the wooden floor that practically sold her on the loft. Her badge and her gun laid absently on the end table. She brushed her hand against the fireplace and lit it. The flames made her face glow in the dim light. She slipped into her pajamas and warmed up the Thai food from a few nights ago. The spicy aroma mixed with the smell of wood burning always made her feel at home. The lightning illuminated her loft and the dark sky.  She just closed a murder case where the victim was only seven years old. She wouldn’t be at home had her boss ordered her to leave. He could tell how hard the case hit her.

Her favorite classical music played on her antique record player. She burrowed into the corner of her overstuffed couch while she ate her favorite takeout. She stared out the large windows and watched the rain splash up against them. Her eyes focused on the picture frame on the bookshelf next to the window. In the picture, Mackenzie is smiling at the man who used to be her boyfriend. She kept telling herself that she didn’t have time to take it down but in reality she didn’t want it to be final. She pulled her deep red blanket closer to her body and shifted the pillow behind her head. With the soft music playing and the storm rumbling in the background, she closed her eyes and cried. She let the tears stream down her face for letting him go and for the innocent, little girl whose life was cut short.

Mackenzie woke up about an hour later, she cried herself into a restless sleep with pictures of the dead girl’s body haunting her dreams. The grandfather clock echoed across the room and the record player hummed, telling her to turn the record over. The clock only read nine o’clock she wasn’t used to be home this early. She contemplated retrieving her briefcase from off the dining room table. She could start looking at the personnel files for the new assistant she needed to hire. Her feet paddled against the cold floor. She shivered when she grabbed onto the steel fridge handle. Her fridge contained several bottles of wine, cartons of takeout, a gallon of expired milk, and some eggs. When they were together her refrigerator held overwhelming amounts of food.

“That was a bust,” she muttered to herself. She opened the cabinet above the sink and stretched her arm to the back. The small bottle was half empty and a little dusty. She poured the whiskey into a small glass. The liquor burned down her throat and instantly warmed her insides. She refilled her glass and moved back to her living room. She checked the fire and made sure it was out. She could hear a train whistling in the distance and the rain falling to the ground. With her glass in hand, Mackenzie trudged up the spiral staircase to her bedroom. She downed the rest of her drink and laid the glass on the armoire. She slipped under the heavy comforter and watched the street lights glow. Her mind drifted and soon enough her eyes became heavier with each passing second. She slept peacefully for the first time in months.


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