My favorite place be: Elton, La

In class today, my professor brought in a creative writing professor to “get our juices flowing.” Fun fact, my freshman year I majored in theatre and took a creative writing class. At the time, that was my favorite class (poetry was a close second) due to how rebellious it felt to write with no rules.

I’m missing home (Louisiana) a bit and with the prompt “My favorite place to be,” to write about home only felt right.

Here you go:

Raymond, sits in the same spot in front of his dad's deteriorating laundromat probably from the ‘60s welcoming everybody that crosses the tracks into town. I’m free. With bare feet I play hopscotch with the gravel roads to avoid puncturing my feet too badly. Occasionally I hear horses neigh faintly.

Neighbors yelling “hey there, where ya momma, i gotta sauce,” when they pass by. My grandparent’s quaint house in a country town with no traffic lights is my favorite place to be. Railroad tracks separate ‘cross the gully from the backstreet.