Description Challenge! - Writer's Week -

Guest

So I wanted to start doing writing challenges for the forum every other week or so and call it, writers week!

Basically with the description challenge I will provide a topic or a picture and all you have to do is describe what's taking place in the picture or the topic given to you with the most vivid and well thought out caption of it you can imagine.

HINT: Remember to write as if you are right there experiencing/seeing it for yourself!

This will help to improve everyone's writing tremendously. Good luck everyone!

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Challenge #1: Describe a person flying for the first time. Not in a plane, but as a superpower. The sensation, the view, the feeling, the thoughts, everything.

Subject: Re: Description Challenge! - Writer's Week - Fri Feb 21, 2014 1:38 pm

Do we write post it on this thread or do we PM it to you or something?

Guest

this thread

Guest

*cracks knuckles* I think I'll have a go at this!

The girl bolted through the dense, haunting woods that reeked of danger and whispered sweet promises of lethal consequences from disrupting the eerie silence. But the woods would eventually give way to her true destination: the cliff she had dreamed of jumping from. Not suicidally–nothing of that sort––but feeling the shock of falling from such a high position and hurtling toward solid ground so quickly, and then to have the daunting sensation vanquished once she caught the wind and used it as her tool, her guide for freedom from the cold, hard ground of the Earth and the sense of imprisonment she felt because if it, even in the most open expanses of land and sky.

And so she ran, and jumped.

The familiar terror gripped her bones and squeezed her heart, but the outcome would be worth it. But free-falling, she realised, wasn’t as serene and peaceful as it appeared on television or in old black-and-white movies that featured professional stuntmen. No, this was something different. The wind felt like fire as it swept through her hair and tore at her rosy-red cheeks, whipped her clothing upward as she went downward. Tears started streaming from her cauliflower-blue eyes, not used to the pressurized amounts of oxygen flooding them. Her lungs screamed and for more than a brief few seconds, all she could see through bleary eyes was Earth. Hard rock formations, rather––and menacingly jagged ones at that––reached for her, ready to dash her bones and blood across their untainted surfaces.

So she flew.

The concentration was hard to wrangle at first, for fear dominated her mindset rather than honed senses to accomplish what she wanted. Forcing her arms forward, she swooped like an Olympic diver through water, back arched slightly and feet pointed. Before any more obstructions of an emotional nature could inhibit further success, the girl aimed for the stars, literally. She didn’t look down––there would be nothing to be gained from that––but instead kept her gaze to the sky, now bleeding reds, oranges, and pinks as the blues of the afternoon were faded by the setting sun. The rapid resistance from the atmosphere dared to squander her dreams, but she didn’t care. She was flying, she was free. Gravity pulled her toward the Earth just enough to make her fight for her flight, to strive to achieve it.

As she progressed higher and higher up, the temperature began to plummet lower and lower, and the vital air she needed to breathe became thin and sparing. The girl had no other superhuman capabilities, nothing useful to aid her conquest of glory. The sun retreated from its position and let the moon command the sky for the night. Cold settled into her core, even with the friction of acceleration on her side. It was only when she could no longer intake adequate air and she could have sworn that the tears were turning to icicles that she stopped, that she paused and risked a look to what lied far below her new vantage point.

The skeletal branches of the forest she had run through stabbed the sky like wooden daggers, the tops of the fir trees could be barely distinguished. The girl had purposefully chosen an area with no people nor modern-day distractions, so it was just her, Mother Nature, and the night sky. She regretted not setting out earlier, because the creeping darkness enveloped the details of the Earth below and kept them for itself. Freezing and fearing a fall if she stalled for too long, the girl had to choose how to get down––feet first or head first––for she had neglected that detail when planning her escape. She opted for free-falling instead, eager to experience the adrenaline she had been treated to not long ago.

And so she fell again, more calmly and steadily this time. A quote came to mind, although she couldn’t pinpoint where it had been from: “falling is just like flying, only with a more permanent destination.” More menacing than she had first interpreted the saying to be, but she couldn’t stop now. Exhilaration and fright and ecstasy and energy kept her going, going, going down. That’s when she realised that, to her horror, she wouldn’t make it. The same rocks she could have been killed on if impacted pursued her yet again, this time so much closer and so much more imminent. The girl tried to scream, but her lungs had been too starved to allow her the luxury. It was over. She should have never flown, this reckless girl, and she knew it, too. But just microseconds before impact, the girl woke from her dream, feet planted firmly on the ground.

Guest

Quote :: The familiar terror gripped her bones and squeezed her heart,

This line is one of those, "Next level of writing things." It pays attention to detail - such as seeing your reflection in a mirror when you enter a room in a mystery novel, just to make the scene more realistic and suspenseful - this line alludes to that feeling.

Overall, this is wonderful. I felt the wind rush past her, I felt the terror, I saw the woodland area and I felt her gain control of the situation through the piece.

OT: Not that everyone needs to give a review, but I just felt this deserved one.

Guest

Wow, thank you so much! ;~; This was a really nice way to be able to write a short story––something I haven't done in quite a while––and I'm looking forward to reading others' responses as well as the next prompt when it comes! c:

Subject: Re: Description Challenge! - Writer's Week - Fri Feb 28, 2014 11:25 am

((OOC: Forgot about this.))

Seeing is believing. That is what they said.

A puddle of light revealed the spectacle. Two feet, suspended, dangling like a hangman. His own two feet, booted and intact, hovering by increments above the water-scoured base of limestone flooring. No strain on his torso, no harness lending its support. Just a perilous sensation of balance, like that of a tight-rope walker. The knot in his stomach released as an explosive gasp, threatening his stability. He did not fall.

He saw, but did not believe.

An eye was imperfect, he told himself, an eye fell prey to illusion. The immediate explanation was obvious; it was a trick of limited visibility. His surroundings were, at current, pitch black save for the electronic illumination he provided himself. Yet move his torch as he might, shadows revealed and developed in ways unaccountable. When then he saw the boot-treads from underneath he discounted this theory entirely. A touch of dismay trickled into his mind.

By now he was in motion. A sleek gliding movement levitated his legs forward, angling his body ever closer to forty-five degrees. Try as he might his brain could not utilise the familiarity of muscles to stabilise his body. Strength was wasted in a useless flailing. The man panicked, an emotional state which sent his teetering into overdrive, reversing gravity so that his head now looked up at the tools dangling off his belt. A stone chisel threw its holder and bounced dangerously close to his face. A chipped shard of stone from the collision smacked against his helmet.

No longer trying to be still, the man threw his limbs wide into darkness, seeking a grasp on anything. Apprehension was taking hold. His breathing intensified and he forced himself to be calm, to make sense. If not the darkness, then what? Oxygen deprivation. His brain was finally shutting down, turning his own perceptions against him. But no one had said it would be like this. This inescapable tear-away from the relief of sure-footing. He was like a drunkard, aware of his measures but unable to prevent his control from slowly drifting away. A prisoner in his own mind. Helpless.

Tears streamed up his face as the sound of his sobs echoed back. The gift of flight was something humanity had dreamed of ever since caveman days. But what use was the endowment when already trapped underground? A spelunking enthusiast, victim of a caving expedition gone wrong.

Subject: Re: Description Challenge! - Writer's Week - Fri Feb 28, 2014 11:39 am

Think of the presents you've brought
Any merry little thought
Think of Christmas, think of snow
Think of sleigh bells Here we go!
Like a reindeer in the sky
You can fly! You can fly!
You can fly! You can fly!
Soon you'll zoom all around the room
All it takes is faith and trust
But the thing that's a positive must
Is a little bit of pixie dust
The dust is a positive must
You can fly! You can fly!
You can fly! You can fly!
When there's a smile in your heart
There's no better time to start
It's a very simple plan
You can do what the birdies can
At least it's worth a try
You can fly! You can fly!
You can fly! You can fly!

Guest

Interesting Bow. Poetic narrative. Nice & Creative!

And wow Dart, I don't think I've ever considered what flight would be like if you didn't know how to control it. The feeling would probably be insanely scary.

Subject: Re: Description Challenge! - Writer's Week - Tue Mar 11, 2014 3:42 am

LATE

Since she was young, Gilda had been growing wings. At first they were small, too small to notice, even when all she had on was a T-shirt, then they started getting bigger. It was like a growth spurt, they'd grow inches in a month, feet in a year. She had been pulled out of school rather quickly. It hadn't been her choice, but she was stuck with it now.

She was finally going to get something out of the ordeal though. It wouldn't matter soon. Soon she would have a reward for several hard years. She could feel a tingle in her feathers. It was almost as if she would float away right then and there, from the top of a barn's roof, as high as possible, with her father. Her father...was really just here for moral support. Tying anything to her wouldn't help much, so he was just up here to get her to go.

[b]"Whenever you're ready Grizelda."[/color] he said softly, putting a calm and comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and steeled herself, stretching her wings outwards and lightly pulsing them to and fro. She could feel the air rush past her wingtips, hear the whistle as it wedged itself between her feathers and see as she ran froward and jumped.

She knew from past tries that closing her eyes tightly and hoping everything would work out was a bad idea.

She forced her wings downwards as she fell, a surprisingly difficult feat, and then let them lift back up as she drew them in. She had trained and studied for this. It didn't help. She was still scared. She just wished to be lifted up and away from the ground. Even if she just glided for a bit, anything was better than crashing again!

She opened her eyes after a moment to see the ground only a foot or two from her face! Luckily, it wasn't getting closer. Gilda pulled up and was able to push away the ground, gaining altitude. Her face broke into a wide smile "D-dad! I did it!" she said, turning into a painfully wide turn to try and make her way back. The air whistled between her feathers in small pulses and vibrations before she suddenly lost her loft and plummeted a few feet, before regaining her hold on the air. It was weird for the air to act like a solid object, but that was exactly how it was behaving. It felt like it could break at any moment, but could also push her to new heights if she let it.

She knew she would have to this again, and soon, but she had to land now, she had just started using these wings the right way, her back was already aching, along with her stomach, from keeping her body straight.

She took the landing with a stumble and looked up to her dad, giving a thumbs up.

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