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Thursday, January 10, 2013
Today's writing prompt: Describe something
Ok, here is a little challenge for you, and maybe a little game for the rest of us. Look at something in the room. Study it well. Hit the stopwatch and for 60 seconds describe that "thing". Don't tell what it is though. We will see how great your description is if we can guess what it is! Ready? GO!
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It takes up the entire room, it feels like, crowding out everyone and everything else. Brown and white fur that won't stay put and is always flying up in the air and getting into everything. An orchestra of smells. Grumbling tummy, rumbling snores.
it's smooth glass is appealing. it's white body elegant and inviting. it talks to me, sings to me and connects me to the world. i can't live without it. it's one of the most beautiful things i own. the doctor said an apple a day keeps the doctor away. this apple keeps the world at my fingertips.
I look at it, standing tall with its black stand and its sharp blades spinning as fast as the speed of light. I hear its low, rumbling sound which sounded similar to a piece of electronic; just working its way round and round in circular motions inside its casing.
I lay comfortably in bed as I feel it; its cool air slowly filling up my entire room with one press of a button.
It starts to swing in my direction, causing me to close my eyes in relief as the heat from this dreaded weather is suddenly flushed away by a breeze of cool air. Oh, what a lifesaver indeed.
Mindy
www.sksainitheauthor.blogspot.com
I am always close to it
I love to touch it
Its perfume is around me
Its texture is soft
What is it?
Guess... size is small
"Something" at my house is made of shiny silvery metal with two sharp tips and two circles at the other end for fingers to fit in. It makes a faint, rhythmical, smooth sound when being used. It is an inexpensive hand tool found in every home, business, and school. Professionals purchase more expensive ones which need professional sharpening from time to time. What is it?
Bound by straps, the scent reminds me of freedom.
Expression is written between lines of a trees last breath. Merged into binding, the earth left leaves for me to pick up. Grabbing in both hands, shaking, left to write.
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