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Describe a common scene in a way that evokes a specific emotion. |
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Describe a common scene (like a busy street or quite park) in a way that evokes a specific emotion without explicitly stating that emotion. Quiet long lanterns draped by the thousands over still waters quaked inwardly at the flames within, understanding the precipice they hung over however un-understanding of the eternal chasm that they were shadowed beneath. It was he clearest of nights, clear enough to plainly see the 10’s of millions to billions of billions of lanterns higher up there in the in the bleakness, enough to remind even the restraining soul that they themselves were just a whisp. The feeling of an aroma nearby led a man’s gaze away from the sky and back from the deathly footsteps from which e came; a plant grew from the waters that he couldn’t name but on a better day he would have longed to know for he was a seeker of knowledge - but this evening though he had the answer, it was far from him. So longingly he searched the lanterns first then the sky then the creaking deck beneath his feet then the ever shifting waters a bland retreat in his breaths. The glow resonated within the man’t chest that caused him a stricken pain, falling on words that he may have heard at one time or another but failing his memory; only the semblance of truth he bore in the chambers of his mind, that there was no other way, and in the end he must ultimately be victorious but not without much suffering and the richest most profound grinding of work. Picturing his hands in lush soil, drawing a deep inhale of the fertile locks of dirt the fear of failure was ever a present, a constant knocking at his soul, a grating of his mind, especially in the present failure. But all the while the smoke rose in the distance. His eyes followed. “One minute the smoke rises high for all to see, the next it is a vapor, and then the next we will rebuild what has burnt doen.” He said to himself. “It there sense enough in that?” From behind the wooden door of the shanty he called home on the lake, there was a putrid cough, a reminder of his daughter, sich with a casing illness that he was sure would soon pass. His eyes narrowed and the sweat of the night cleared. The object of the murk water was never an option, just a rasping thought for a man who had no hope. But he… One step after another he tracked back to the door and pushed his way inside and then there they lay in a warm and confided heap sleep slumbering their heavy eyes. And that night, beneath the weight of God he joined them, a great anticipation for the coming dawn. |
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