"At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars."
continue on from the sentence and come up with a piece of descriptive writing, I need some examples and want to see how I can improve, this first sentence is from mice and men however make your own descriptive writing as this being a base sentence. have fun! note. try and make it 300-350 words if you can!
Master [1544579]"At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars."
continue on from the sentence and come up with a piece of descriptive writing, I need some examples and want to see how I can improve, this first sentence is from mice and men however make your own descriptive writing as this being a base sentence. have fun! note. try and make it 300-350 words if you can!
At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars. By the little garden pergola open to the winds some fluttered peacocks were blotted nervelessly amid the dripping trees, their heads sunk back beneath their wings: while in the pergoda itself, like a fallen storm-cloud, lolled a negress, her levelled, polecat eyes semi-veiled by the nebulous alchemy of the rainbow.
At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars. Jaden sat on the floor of his cell staring at the picture on his wall. He had painted it years before in a time which he vaguely remembered not being a prisoner here. A time when there were no guards, no doctors and no bars on the windows. He use to tell them that some day he'd go back there, to the place in the picture but all that led to was more sedatives and shock therapy so today he just sat here on the cold stone floor staring and hoping some day soon he'd leave this place and return.
On the other side of the door he heard the doctors discussing his case
"We cannot help him while he has the picture, he must let this delusion go"
"Whenever we remove it he becomes non-responsive"
"None the less it is for his own good, a picture of hell is not good for him"
Jaden heard the key in the door, they were coming for his picture, to them it was hell but to him it was heaven. Panicking he wished one final time, wished to be back there, wished to stand under that sky.
When the door opened the cell was empty but the picture still hung on the wall.
Years later, when Jaden was long gone and people stopped searching, the doctor moved the picture to his office, he sat there today with the two suns setting in the purple sky behind the large blue tree outside his window staring at the picture with his 5 eyes, it was such an ugly picture, as if anyone could live in a world with a yellow sun, a blue sky and green trees.
At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars. The light hit the old, dry wooden boards of the stately room and was reflected a thousand fold by the innumerable small shards of glass, scattered all about the vast expanse of the floor like a sea of sparkling diamonds.
Silence had only recently descended over the entire room like a blanket, covering the many bodies that lay upon the oaken boards of the floor. Those bodies would now lie forever motionless, unconcerned with the close inspection paid to them by the army of flies that had already been drawn by the fierce heat of the morning. That silence was now lifted once again, shattered like the huge glass windows had been a few hours before, as the towering, monolithic grandfather clock on the distant side of the room began to herald the arrival of the hour.
The booming chimes reverberated off the walls as they filled the cavernous room. The deep, thunderous tolls taking the place where the victorious shouts and cheers should have been. Each one seemed to mock him as he lay slumped against the opposite wall. His mouth and throat were dry, the moisture quickly taken by the hot, arid air. An air that was strong with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the stench of his dried sweat.
The pain he felt stabbing through his abdomen had long since faded, even now his aching and tired muscles were beginning to grow numb. His hands still gripped the smooth rifle tightly, grasping onto it as he would his own life, had things gone better. His finger was still squeezing the trigger hard, but the barrel was growing colder by the second, like the rest of him.
He tasted his own blood in his mouth and it washed over his tongue like the darkness that was washing over him. As everything around him began to fade, he couldn't help wondering where he had gone wrong.
EscapedGoblin [1849481]At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars. The light hit the old, dry wooden boards of the stately room and was reflected a thousand fold by the innumerable small shards of glass, scattered all about the vast expanse of the floor like a sea of sparkling diamonds.
Silence had only recently descended over the entire room like a blanket, covering the many bodies that lay upon the oaken boards of the floor. Those bodies would now lie forever motionless, unconcerned with the close inspection paid to them by the army of flies that had already been drawn by the fierce heat of the morning. That silence was now lifted once again, shattered like the huge glass windows had been a few hours before, as the towering, monolithic grandfather clock on the distant side of the room began to herald the arrival of the hour.
The booming chimes reverberated off the walls as they filled the cavernous room. The deep, thunderous tolls taking the place where the victorious shouts and cheers should have been. Each one seemed to mock him as he lay slumped against the opposite wall. His mouth and throat were dry, the moisture quickly taken by the hot, arid air. An air that was strong with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the stench of his dried sweat.
The pain he felt stabbing through his abdomen had long since faded, even now his aching and tired muscles were beginning to grow numb. His hands still gripped the smooth rifle tightly, grasping onto it as he would his own life, had things gone better. His finger was still squeezing the trigger hard, but the barrel was growing colder by the second, like the rest of him.
He tasted his own blood in his mouth and it washed over his tongue like the darkness that was washing over him. As everything around him began to fade, he couldn't help wondering where he had gone wrong.
350 exactly, including the starting text.
this is the best ive read so far, thanks for your input in this! atleast 2 people gave a go!
EscapedGoblin [1849481]At about ten o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars. The light hit the old, dry wooden boards of the stately room and was reflected a thousand fold by the innumerable small shards of glass, scattered all about the vast expanse of the floor like a sea of sparkling diamonds.
Silence had only recently descended over the entire room like a blanket, covering the many bodies that lay upon the oaken boards of the floor. Those bodies would now lie forever motionless, unconcerned with the close inspection paid to them by the army of flies that had already been drawn by the fierce heat of the morning. That silence was now lifted once again, shattered like the huge glass windows had been a few hours before, as the towering, monolithic grandfather clock on the distant side of the room began to herald the arrival of the hour.
The booming chimes reverberated off the walls as they filled the cavernous room. The deep, thunderous tolls taking the place where the victorious shouts and cheers should have been. Each one seemed to mock him as he lay slumped against the opposite wall. His mouth and throat were dry, the moisture quickly taken by the hot, arid air. An air that was strong with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the stench of his dried sweat.
The pain he felt stabbing through his abdomen had long since faded, even now his aching and tired muscles were beginning to grow numb. His hands still gripped the smooth rifle tightly, grasping onto it as he would his own life, had things gone better. His finger was still squeezing the trigger hard, but the barrel was growing colder by the second, like the rest of him.
He tasted his own blood in his mouth and it washed over his tongue like the darkness that was washing over him. As everything around him began to fade, he couldn't help wondering where he had gone wrong.
350 exactly, including the starting text.
this is the best ive read so far, thanks for your input in this! atleast 2 people gave a go!