Description Exercise

I was working on an exercise for focusing on describing things in detail. I tend to focus on either the action, or the deeper themes when I just write haphazardly. So I was working on my description. Here you go.

 

The sun shown brightly between the slats in the blinds. I much prefer a completely dark room to sleep in, but the doctor said that I needed some ‘natural light’ during my recovery. Looking out the window, the weather actually seemed pleasant. I don’t usually care much about the outdoors, but some weather just warms your soul.

I opened the blinds, and then the window. The cool breeze rushed in to ruffle my hair and caress my face. It perfectly complemented the feeling of the sun full on my head and neck. The sun might warm the face, but it’s the breeze that touches the soul. It is the breeze that blows sweetly into the depths in each of us… I should stop right there.

I tend to overthink basically everything. I create a large amounts of stress for myself. Sometimes that starts with ascribing special qualities to everyday occurrences. My therapist specifically instructed me to get out of my own head. While I’m recovering, I’m allowed to write. I am only allowed to describe what I see.

I am in my room at home. The walls here are a pale green. It was supposed to be the pale green that reflects into the sky from tropical water during the golden hours just after sunrise and just before sunset. In the right sunshine it kind of looks that way. When lit with incandescent light or when it’s cloudy outside, it tend to look more like the inside of a mental institute. The blinds are imitation wood. I could afford custom blinds. You wouldn’t know that they are imitation at first glance. They hold the rich browns and blacks of coffee and chocolate. They really make the room feel warm and rich.

I haven’t gotten around to replacing the ceiling fan. It sort of ruins the illusion of a tropical getaway. Cheap, white blades on a brushed silver body let just about anyone know that the fan was installed when the house was built. When I wake up in morning, I stare at that fan as it swirls lazily. It reminds me every morning that I haven’t finished personalizing this house. At least the furniture doesn’t look cheap.

I spent good money at an overpriced furniture store to get just the right bedroom set. The wood matches the fake wood on the blinds rather well. It has a little more red in it though. The real wood has a less pronounced grain that the imitation blinds, but the deep reds swirled with the sweet browns just sing on richness. The styling is very masculine. It’s sort of a cross between colonial and mission style furnishings. Everything is very squared of and angular, but there is a flow between the wood grain and the smooth edges that ties the pieces together. The headboard on the king bed echoes the dresser and chest of drawers in a way that seems less like they match and more like they are long-time friends that share characteristics.

The blankets on the bed are another beautiful find. The sheets were ordered in a custom color from a website I found. The shade of green on the sheets is a perfect compliment to the banana leaf pattern that is so expertly dyed into them. I topped it all off with a rich chocolate comforter. I decided to eschew the use of any throw pillows. I didn’t want this room to look like it was designed by a woman, for use by a man.

My bedside table is where the illusion begins to breakdown again. This set didn’t have any tables that went with it. I found some that suit it well enough, but it’s clear that they don’t share the same soul as the larger pieces. Their contents are even less appealing. My lamp is another brushed metal monstrosity. It’s supposed to evoke a retro-futuristic feeling, like it was built in the 1960’s to imagine what it would look like today. Then of course there isn’t a clock radio in the world that looks like it belongs in the tropics. Black plastic with red eyes glaring the time into room. I hate it as much as I’ve hated anything in my short 28 years.

This room is to be my home  for the next few months while I recover from my psychotic break. The doctors think that being in a comfortable environment that I designed myself might be more soothing than being stuck in a hospital. I tend to agree with them. Until I see that tropical green on the walls turn sickly and institutional as the clouds begin to cross the sun.

 

Blinds

Blinds (Photo credit: spweber)

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I wanna be an Astronaut!

I saw this over at Word Painting Without a Brush

Creative Writing Exercise = You are an astronaut. Describe your perfect day.

My alarm gently vibrated me awake. It’s so hard to wake up on your own in the preternatural darkness of space.

I gently slid out of my bunk. The covers stayed messy. I cackled maniacally inside my own head. I always knew making my bed was a waste of time, and being in zero gravity only serves to make me more correct.

I dressed myself slowly and deliberately. The lack of urgency in zero gravity is astounding. Hurrying was never something I was very good at. I had absolutely no motivation to hurry when everything was drifting by as if we were all suspended in still water.

I gently navigated my way the the mess hall. Time to heat up a bag of coffee. I have to admit, for as different and difficult as somethings could be in space, the fancy cooking gadgets were exceptionally refreshing.

I took my bag of warm coffee and floated to the common space. It was like a scene from a science fiction movie in there. The seats were clean and smooth and the space was open. The most striking feature was the window that took up the entire wall of the vessel.

space

space (Photo credit: Sweetie187)

I opened the shades and peered out into the darkness. Inky blackness greeted me. It was like staring through a doorway into madness. I smiled broadly.

There has never been anything that compared to floating around in zero gravity, slurping coffee and staring into that space that drive men insane. That insanity always felt more like home to me than anywhere else. It’s a shame there’s no place here on earth that compares.

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Escape

It’s spelled just like escape. Es cop ay…

Books, movies, stories, and video games all transport us somewhere. We all have certain ones we enjoy, and we all enjoy certain types. Our reasons are different and they are the same. Escape.

Whether it’s escape from the sadness and frustration of the everyday, or whether it’s just the only place you can be yourself. We all like to escape sometimes.

I feel out of place almost everywhere. There’s a lot of different reasons, but the important part is that I’m always  just a little off. Stories of all type let me have a place to be.

Sometimes I just get involved in those people’s world. Sometimes that’s enough. Other times I want to be involved and play a part in the story. That’s when I like to play games.

Never do I feel as at home as I do when reading a fantasy story. One of the great epics like “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy. The world is so alive and vibrant and I can’t help but be spellbound. That’s where I feel at home. When I’m spellbound by the tales of wonder and bravery.

Tolkien's Cover Designs for the First Edition ...

Tolkien’s Cover Designs for the First Edition of The Lord of the Rings (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m not scared to admit that I wish I were as strong as they are. I wish I were as upright and brave. I wish I were as steadfast, honorable and daring.

Most days I’m just a person. Moving through this modern world trying to keep from failing. People are built to push and strive, not avoid consequences. It’s a sad reality that these days, there are no great quests. Just trips to the coffee shop and saving money for a retirement that may never come.

One day I hope to have a real adventure. Maybe it will be when I’m Eleventy-One. Maybe it will be tomorrow. All I can do is wake up, get ready for the day, and open my door to the world.

The Man Inside the Head

Have you ever seen a man that lives inside a head?

It’s very strange. Most people live in a house or other sort of shelter. This man lives inside a head!

Where there would be a brain, he lives right in there! It’s bigger on the inside you know, a head is. There’s room for a whole lot of rooms.

The human mind is capable of many things, but one wouldn’t think it could house a whole human being!

I’ve seen this man walk right out of his head-home and just move through the world as if there were nothing odd about his living arrangement. It was quite shocking.

The really surprising thing, is that it isn’t just any head that he lives in. He lives inside his own head. Can you imagine?

It’s strange enough to live inside a human head, but to live inside your own head is quite extraordinary. It’s a bit Escher-like, isn’t it?

Escher Sphere

Escher Sphere (Photo credit: LostBob Photos)

Him

Ever the soft wind blows,

Touching the quiet soul among the best of us.

Never shall we forget the dignity of him.

Always will his fire burn bright, 

Casting a stark shadow out behind him.

I shall not move him while he rests.

He has earned this rest and more,

Stronger than all of us.

Celebrate with me his soul,

All that he is.

Ever remember who he was,

Through his fire incomprehensible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fire

fire (Photo credit: matthewvenn)

 

Terror

Do you know what terror is?

Mind-numbing, soul-gripping terror?

That single moment when all of existence seems to freeze and crystallize.

Things seem to be happening but time is still.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel your pulse pounding loud and hard and fast.

It’s in your ears, your hands, and your gut, just pumping away.

Your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

That single moment of pure, uncut, unadulterated terror.

It’s followed by he shadow of terror.

In an effort to avoid that feeling you jump at every twitch and sound.

Sights and sounds constantly threaten you with the possibility that they might be full of that terror you felt once before.

Things are never quite the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scream

Scream (Photo credit: anguila40)

Crackle

I saw it as soon as I stepped out the door. It was flitting and glowing like a living thing. I was intrigued, as always.

I walked toward the light. I knew what it was. I knew what it would feel like. I craved it.

As I stood over the little monster, the heat oozed across my upper body. It made the cold beer in my hand feel colder.

It always amazed me when someone raised their own little creature. They would build it a cage, and then nurse it to life.

It would start low and quiet. More smell and breeze that living heat. You have to be careful with it. It like to be fed.

After you get it living and moving it grows on it’s own. It will keep growing as long as you keep feeding it. It would overwhelm it’s enclosure if you let it.

I stared at it as it wriggled. It moved and hissed. It cracked and pooped and spit. It wanted more to eat, but it hadn’t finished what we’d given it.

I knew what would happen tonight. We would raise it and feed it, treat it like a family pet. We would watch it dance in it’s cage for our amusement. We would be careful not to feed it too much. Then we would let it die, or we would kill it.

Next week we’ll do the same thing. I can’t wait.

Campfire

Campfire (Photo credit: Wikipedia)