SO!! Here's my non-fiction piece.

Thank you guys for the help! It took me a full day to write. That's pathetic. But you know what's more pathetic? My entire Creative Writing class had pretty much nothing to say about it. Why you ask? Well, I have no idea. Sigh. I was wondering if you guys like it?

 My Fearful Five

                        The only reason people go to Canal Street in New York City is for cheap, illegal stuff. You can get anything there, if you have the cash. The street itself is cramped and grimy, and it smells of sweat, rotten Chinese food, and fear. It’s not pretty by any means, but I went for one thing and one thing only. Cheap stuff.

            Within my first hour, I bought D&G sunglasses for ten dollars. My mom bought a scarf, a watch, and a hat for $50. The locals all said to bargain with the vendors, and wait for the big boys: the Chinese men with cell phones to their ears, asking tourists if they want handbags. I guess we had it coming; we looked so out of place, so much like idiot tourists. My mom, grandma, and me are all loud, tall and blonde, which is the opposite of the locals in New York City. We eventually had one man approach us.

            “You want handbag? Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada handbag,” he whispered, without looking at our faces. To an outsider, the exchange looked unsuspicious. He said, “You follow me now.” Motioning with his hand to walk up the street, we waited a bit and walked after him. He kept his distance; staying about 30 feet ahead of us.

            After two blocks of trailing the guy, we stopped in front of a store. It looked no different than other cheap shops here, with shirts that looked like they were made for five cents. We walked in, and looked like we were very interested in one particular T-shirt. I glanced outside while my mom was turning the shirt inside out, inspecting the “beautiful craftsmanship”.  The man we had followed was outside the store front, talking in Chinese on his cell phone. A couple minutes later, two more men walked into the store. They passed us in absolute silence, and my family and I stared. A white shelving unit stretched from the floor to almost the ceiling, full of bargain trinkets. Because of that, I was surprised when the two short men lifted it up and moved it to the side. I was more surprised by what was behind the shelves. It was a dark opening, crudely cut out of the wall. The cavity was an endless abyss, where nothing would ever come out once inside. I was locked in place, my mother actually had to drag me in. As we approached, all I could think was I was going to die. My final moments were going to be on that hole.

            I have to be strong, I thought to myself. I can’t let my grandma and mom see that I’m scared. But I don’t want to die! Clearly, my guardians must be terrified too. I looked over, and they were perfectly at ease. That’s impossible. This is so sketchy, I thought. Maybe they were just acting.

            As soon as the three of us were inside that musty room, the shelves were slid back in place. A bright light suddenly appeared from the single light bulb strung from the ceiling. Then I could see what the shelves were hiding: purses! There were rows of them on the walls, some stacked up in the corner, and quite a few in some cardboard boxes. I’d never seen such a concentration of handbags before. My mother and grandma started moving around, looking at the various brands of purses. The tiny space didn’t allow for much comfort.  I grabbed the nearest purse, a grey Gucci bag, and held it out to the man. He spoke very little English, so he held up numbers on his fingers to show prices.

            “Fifty for…” he motioned towards the purse in my hands. By this time, my grandma had selected her tote, and was bargaining with the man. More than once, he had shush her. My grandma would be quiet for a bit, then get worked up over something, and start yelling. It was an endless cycle. All the while, my mother took her sweet time. She ,oh so delicately, grasped the precious satchel, turned it over once, then again, and tut-tut-tutted under her breath. I sent her mind-bullets, trying to tell her that we needed to leave. She didn’t pick up on my psychic powers, and kept procrastinating. I still stood motionless, I felt like jelly. It was like a scene out of Cops. At any minute, dozens of policemen were going to burst through the wall. If that happened, I would need a new pair of pants.

            My mother’s loud voice shook me out of my nightmare. “OKAY! I think I’ll go with this one! How much?” she asked, holding out a ruffled black and white purse. The man suddenly checked his watch, and made a very terrified face. He grabbed the three purses we had picked out, and shoved them into a dark plastic sack.

            “200 dollah for all?” he asked, looking very desperate. That’s when my mom stepped in.

            “I don’t think so. I’m thinking 100 dollars for all of them. If you don’t like that…” she chuckled under her breath. I had never seen my mother look so mysterious and wicked. The man realized my mom wasn’t kidding around, and nodded his head. My mother shelled out the cash, peeling back each bill carefully. After a few Chinese words from the man, a blinding light showered us from behind. The shelves had moved, and I could see the street from there. I had the sudden need to sprint to the safety of the street. I grabbed the garbage bag full of our goods and speed walked away. When I reached the sidewalk, I breathed my first breath of fresh air. We must’ve been in the abyss for a whole five minutes- the most terrifying five minutes of my life.