Friday, June 13, 2008

Parallel Worlds

English 1010-Paper 1-Description and Analysis
Compose a paper describing one scene but in two different lights: one negative and one positive. Use show words and make sure that the same details are used in both pieces.

The calm morning begins with the steady climb of the sun. The round, mellow giant stretches its
sleeping fingers to tickle the tops of the mountains, spreading warm rays of light across my face.
It penetrates softly through the low hanging clouds, grey cobwebs that float wispy above the
earth. The air is cool and clean. A chill, not unpleasant, rolls across the ground to stir about my feet. I have no need for the jacket I brought. No sound reaches my ears but for the distant drip of rain drops on the grass and the far away rumblings of early morning traffic. Even the birds are silent, enjoying the fresh day.

The deep, emerald green of the lilac tree above me shades the work of a long line of ink black ants. Their work is a steady, single line of determined energy, tiny soldiers on a mission. Several feet over is a delicate, lacy spider’s web. The grey lady upon it spins with the skill of any man-made machine, creating patterns of hypnotic wonder. She sits patiently, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The ants steer clear of her trap, knowing what lies in wait upon that captivating spiral.

The lowhanging, pure white blossoms that hang from the lilac tree give off a sweet scent, reminiscent of the soft smell of a baby. It swirls through the air, enticing a buzzing bumble bee to enter into the depths of the flowers. I watch its progress as it dips, sways, and plunges through the air. The sound of its wings whirring and whizzing adds to the wonder of the morning. I
cannot capture the day in writing, and merely watch happily as a rain drop falls onto my page, washing out my inadequate description of the day.

The reaching fingers of the sun punch out from over the mountain. It blinds me and I squint my eyes shut tight, wishing that I had my sunglasses. It creeps through the depressingly dark sky, but it does not lift my spirits. No sound enters my ears, and it makes me wonder where all of the neighbors are. The quiet is unsettling; with no sound I wonder if this is a good time to be out and about. I shiver in the cold morning air and reach for the jacket that I placed on the ground beside me.

A rain drop splashes onto my forehead, running onto my page and smearing the ink. I sigh in frustration and rip out the page to start over again. I bend to try and write from another angle but am distracted by the progress of a line of tiny black ants that are coming slowly closer to my toes. One of the tiny pests stops, and I notice for the first time the spider web next to me. I shrink back in horror as I realize that a giant, prickly monster sits on the web. It spins and waits with bloodthirsty patience for its next victim. The web it sits on is a death trap, a cruel invention to entice innocent bugs to their doom.

A sneeze creeps past my nose and explodes the silence. The smell of the white blossoms on the lilac tree above me permeates the air with a pungent, overpowering smell. I feel as though the air has suddenly been doused with an especially strong Bath and Body Works perfume. An ugly bumble bee buzzes angrily towards me, and I duck out of the way as it attacks a nearby flower with surprising viciousness. I feel very glad that at the moment I am not wearing a flowered print shirt.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Abandoned Buildings

Prompt from the Writers group on

There used to be laughter here. Hundreds of people would enter through the tall doors and step into my magnificent atrium, raindrops of chandelier light blinking on their sleek heads. Men dressed in black suits marched like penguins alongside peacock bright women in colors of garnet, emerald, royal blue, gold, and silver. The click of heels on my polished marble floors floated upwards and echoed merrily through the corridors, rhythms tapped out to the music of violins. The music sounded clearly, accompanied by the graceful movements of the dancers like autumn leaves falling from a tree. Nervous young men tried to engage beautiful girls in small talk, hopefully waiting for the courage to ask a dance. Conversation and the clinking of amber filled glasses filled my halls. In my spacious and ever reaching gardens, lovers would walk hand in hand. The fountains and roses entranced and filled the air with sweet perfume. Such music, such gaiety, such romance.

No longer. The days of blissful enjoyment have passed forever. My halls are no longer bright and airy. Dusty, dank, and damp are the rooms where air, light, and warmth used to sweep along the floors. Cobwebs were never heard of during the times of life and love. Now, grey clouds hang from the ceilings, the chandeliers, and the banisters. Where portraits once hung, blank spaces of peeling wallpaper are the only reminders of the thieves who penetrate through my once safe walls. Gone are the days of life. Gone are my joys, my pride. All that remains is an empty manor, no longer the talk of the town. All that remains are the ghostly strains of the last notes of the violin, plaintively calling to dancers who will never again lift their feet to the music. Gone, gone, gone.