I had to take a stab at writing some “creative” non-fiction (the most ridiculous oxymoron) for my English class.  I had to somehow relate it to the issue of truth and my own real life (thats where the creative part comes in I guess), being that what I wrote about actually never happened but instead its more or less how i would picture that situation to be.  Theres a reason I want to be a journalist and not an author. In-depth descriptions and personal narratives were never really my thing.  But anyways…let me know how bad it really is.

A single bead of sweat wandered slowly down the back of his neck.  The hot light from above seared into his powered-pale face, feeling almost as if his expression could seemingly melt right off.  Meanwhile, his buttoned-up suit and tie ensemble continued to make matters worse.  It was only the constant feeling of his beating heart that kept his nerves at bay.  Five minutes!  A shallow voice bellowed out of the darkness from a few feet away.  It was the moment he had prepared his entire life for. He had always pictured his life somehow turning out this way.  This was his dream, his duty, his raison d’être. It had all come down to this.  Two minutes!  The voice howled once more from beyond the shadows, albeit this time with more of a sense of urgency.  He reviewed, once more, the pile of papers he held in his hands.  He had to be right; he had to know exactly what to say and how to say it.  It was what they were expecting from him; they demanded only the truth.  Thirty seconds!  His heart suddenly raced inside his chest, his right hand slightly shaking on the surface of the desk.  The music of what sounded like a thirty-piece orchestra began to play off in the distance, first slowly, then increasing to a brisk overture of staccato strings and robust horns on a mission.  The lights became blindingly brighter; the lenses repositioned and focused their aim on the subject at hand and suddenly all eyes rested upon him.  The music diminished slowly away as he cleared his throat one last time.  They hung upon his every word: Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to election night in America.