Some people waste a lot of time on insignificant details while others find it difficult to flesh out the image they're looking for. Basic writing exercise for setting the scene: Try to characterise an environment in 100 words or less. Anti-flood rule: There has to be a gap of at least two posts before a user may post again.
Ian looked across the vibrant, multi-coloured field. The smell of the many different types of flowers wafted in the air. The sunflowers reached above the rest of the flowers as they all danced in the breeze. The smell was lovely and the wind carried around brilliantly. The sun was shining with only a small scattering of clouds in the sky. The bright blue sky was a perfect border for this beautiful picture. To Ian, this day couldn’t get much better.
As Sarah stepped through the bushes, she realized that the grass wasn't greener on the other side. The land was a boring brown/gray color, wreckage of everything everywhere. Cars, homes, towers, roads, trees, everything was destroyed. Sarah walked out onto the mess. With a crunch in every step, she hoped that there wasn't a human below. Looking back, the hedge looked so strange. An incredibly bland environment, with a bright green bushes seemingly in the middle. The only living thing for miles. At least, Sarah hoped.
After the moaning of dead men died away, Aukrasa figured it was safe to raise her head, barely, above her trench. In the smothering blanket of nighttime darkness, she could barely make the forms littering no man’s land like the toys of the war god: bent arrows, charred bodies, an occasional lone sword or shield splinter twisted into the ground. Further away, however, there was nothing but vague patches of sludge and blood. There, at the edge of Aukrasa’s vision, the only clearly visible sight was that of a lone, enemy flamethrower, lumbering back towards his trench.
Kemblah could hear the distant howling winds winding their way through the narrow passes of the distant mountains. He knew that soon the placid crystalline red-tinged sands which stretched from horizon to horizon would become his mortal enemy unless he could reach the safety of the shelter just a few miles ahead. He quickened his pace. Above him, in a sky strewn with stars like grains of sand, hovered the chandelier-like globular clusters which seemed to look on impassively at his life or death predicament. In the distance he could see the shelter. Beyond dust devils taking form.
Staring out the window of a suburban house, and clothed lax in his pajamas and a t-shirt was the look of disappointment. Cast by deep brown eyes which former held that stare of curiosity. The outside world was so beautiful. A mix of thin and thick green trees erect at the back of a wood-chipped Georgia backyard. Accented with that pale, standard and boring shade of yellow poured onto the customary shed. It was so simple. So unappreciated and too the beholder so depressing. Wake me up.
Anukas stared out onto the once proud baseball field. The once neatly clipped grass now arched their backs and headed toward the sky. The pitcher's mound was nothing more than a clump of taller grass, the cage behind the catcher was now coated in a thick jacket of rust. Grass and vines hugged the surrounding fence, choking the silver wires in slime green. Anukas clutched the gun close to her chest, memories of carefree summer days spent on the field fluttered through her mind. God, was nothing sacred?
If you could see the landing from where you were, they'd clearly opened the curtains. Black in the day, blue at night. To confuse the inmates, you see. The cells themselves were black - this lunar prison permitted no sunlight. New inmates arrived daily, coming in from the starry black; across the corridors, through the glass windows, was the landing. A red disc, a beacon, a reminder.
The mountain before him provided an imposing presence as he began to search for handholds. Cracks and cliffs filled his view while piles of snow-capped boulders gave way to larger stone forms as he looked farther on. Stepping towards the powerful formation, he began to feel the chilled wind brush past him in an otherworldly race. Demanding times awaited him in the near future, but friendly blue skies lingered patiently at the end of this hearty challenge.
Wet. Wet from the rain, wet from the salty spray of the sea, soaking to our bones. The sky dark and billowing, unchanging for seven days now. The mighty ship rose and plunged at the mercy of the waves. Two days ago, we threw the cargo overboard. Yesterday, we tossed the tackle and still lost our main sail. Today, all two-hundred forty-seven souls huddled together on the deck, praying for respite. The ferocious winds tore the words from the air as soon as they left our lips. We huddled in silence, cursing the stinging rain.
Ivana and I have been walking for hours on this dirt path, she had kept the pace ahead of my own constantly observing her surroundings. I simply followed in her path nothing more, I had no knowledge of the wilderness like Ivana, I could only tell that the air surrounding us was thick and smelled of natures mysteries. We were surrounded by beautiful lush shades of greens, yellows, and reds, crawling and teaming with life's small miracles; the sounds of birds chirping, grass rustling, and sharp talons scratching were among the many of which I was never familiar with before.
The path before the bride was decorated in blues and gold’s. On every pew lining the isle were a collection of blue and white flowers. From the rafters hung silk scarves that shimmered from the lights hanging on the chapel ceiling. The bride took her first step down the petal-covered isle as the wedding march began to play. A bright smile shone on her face as she gazed upon the most glorious sight in the room. Dressed in a smart black suit, with a blue rose pinned to his lapel was her one true love, her beloved, and soon-to-husband.
Mountains roll into the distance, and their white caps dispelled any warmth the ethereal sky may have offered. Wind whistled through crags and outcrops on the tallest of peaks, and ruffled the clothes of Tetronas, whom stood on an edge. Eyes closed, he leapt.
Wind howled about Batos's ears, fur rippling over his back and pounding his shoulders like the waves of the ocean before him. Dark, fathomless depths plunged below just a mere foot away from his paws, stalagmites piercing the broken skeletons of those who had fallen, chains dangling from wrists and ankles. Crouching, he shifted in his human form, blinking ice-blue eyes against the gale as white flakes threatened to blind him. The scents of salt, decay, and blood came to his nose as he looked over to the massive caves set into the mountainside at his back. Though he could not hear them, he knew they were there, suffering under the whips and chains of their drivers.
The rusty gate that opened on screechy hinges was now snow white, shining like fresh paint in the moonlight. It no longer connected a termite-ridden wood fence, but a white one, fitting the scenery of a fairy tale rather than this neighborhood where starlight competed with the dull illumination of the streetlights. A cobblestone path made its way to the porch, hedges and flower patches aligning it like sentries. A light wind teased the porch swing; it no longer hung on a crooked chain, and rattled like a prisoner. He then knew: his ex-wife’s life was perfect without him.
The sun drummed steadily between the palm fronds in great sheets of brilliance; the boy awoke and was ashamed. His father, like all the other village fishermen, had risen in the pre-dawn when the birds were still silent and roosted as dark shadows against the sky. But the boy had not risen with them. Slowly, he rose from the beach with the surging of the waves, and brushed the rough sand clinging to his naked shins.
