The Auction - Original Writing :: Papers

The Auction - Original Writing The rain battered down upon the small, shivering figure that sat in the corner of the bus shelter. It had been sat there for three hours now and was starting to lose all hope. This dishevelled figure was of course, me, and it was I that had been sitting in the tiny, incorrectly named bus shelter, for in this particular place there was no hope at all of indeed gaining shelter, waiting for the past three hours for a bus that seemed as though it would never come. It would be just my luck that on this particular day, when I had already lost the keys for my mothers car and spilt my Muller light yoghurt all over my best jeans, that I would have to wait in a remote bus stop, waiting for a bus that seemed doomed not to come, to go to a auction in a remote place that I had never been to before, that I didn't particularly want to go to! I mean when I said to my mother and father last year that I would like a car for my eighteenth I had been thinking along the lines of a brand new Porsche, or maybe a BMW, I would have even settled for a Mini. But when, on my eighteenth birthday, nearly a week ago now, my mother had given me an envelope with a cheque for ÂÂ £1500 and proclaimed that it was time I took responsibility for my own things, I was completely stumped. An Auction, I mean no offence to auction goers but it's never really appealed to me. But my dear mother took the opportunity to take the day off today to take me to Newgate for the auction. That, however was before I lost the car keys and although I knew I would get grief off my mother for losing them I wouldn't have to go to the auction, right? Wrong, how convenient that Jeff from next door, although he wouldn't be able take me there, he could drop me off at