Descriptive Writing

The soft rocking of a minivan that has seen a mechanic recently enough to feel cared for hums along, engine quiet under the ever present brush of other cars passing by at much greater speeds. The interior is warm and soft, creating a blanket far more soothing than fabric ever will be. Driver and navigator silent as they draw closer in the darkness only speckled in soft yellow headlights. Slowly the horizon creeps upwards and upwards, the top of the mountain glowing faintly. Small and short, you crane your neck forward as you fight off sleep, watching as the glow warbles, washing the sky with a dappled screen of shifting colours. Creeping over the mountain top, the light explodes, neon screaming across the sky, but still so far away you and the car and the roadside are still cast in darkness. The road slides down down into a massive bowl, a huge city filled with tiny towers brighter than the sun winking back at you. A soft voice tells you to go to sleep, you've seen the lights, you're suppose to be sleeping.

Examined: Overly expansive, this sheet of stationery has been decorated with aplethora of shattered gems. Each crushed gem has been carefully arranged onto the sheet of stationery, arranged into various shapes resembling the distant stars. A single large sapphire shattered and reformed to resemble a swirling vortex has been attached to the bottom of the thin stationery. A single strand of dark essence has been bound into the shattered sapphire, making it appear quite ominous. The centre of the paper is clear of gems, allowing for slightly cramped letter writing.

The air temperature drops at least tendegrees when you get closer to the shore. You never notice it whileyou live there, the heat can still be unbearable. But once you leaveand come back...you feel it. You feel it miles away on your skin,faint goosebumps rising as you smell the faint tang of salt air andlikely the noxious odour of high tide. But it doesn't matter as thethe cool breeze drapes itself across your skin in ribbons, silky andclinging. The beach itself, once in view (once parked, once parkedand dragging gear outside, and anger at tourists, oh gods are wetourists now since we don't live here any more, no, no, we're good,we're fine, it's these idiots who don't know how to take up lessroom) spreads out in a cheerful yellow ribbon, dotted with umbrellasand towels and tourists trash. Sand immediately clings to skin, dryand dusty for now, pale, soft. Soon to turn to mud and spackle,flaking off in chunks before just leaving a thin coat behind,impossible to get off without a shower or five. Sun, beating down,harsh, vibrantly bright. Burning faces to a uniform bright reddespite the sunscreen. Everyone looks the same at the beach, brightred and faintly breathless. An umbrella for faint shade, you fallasleep under it, waiting for everyone else to get too tired to shoutand scream and run by.

I don’t think I want to describe specific people. I might write one later of a random/generic person.

It’s a warmth inside, when they come home on time, they’re safe, you can see they’re fine. It’s physical warmth when you touch them, and feel they’re alive, they’re there, they’re here! They’re with you. It’s laughing at very stupid inside jokes. It’s touching them in the middle of the night when they have nightmares and soothing them. It’s having them kill bugs for you. It’s making soup the way their mom made it, because they like that, even if you have a better recipe, dang it, which they also eat, and love, but sometimes they just want it the other way.

Sometimes never. Just write for yourself sometimes, yah know?

Hi.

OM NOM NOM I’VE EATEN THE THIN MINT GIRL SCOUT COOKIE

Or you know, we're just stupid and forgetting to post anything here then feel bad when we remember and then don't post and then we feel bad and don't post and...

An old polaroid picture, the frame heavy and thick despite the faint tinges of yellowing at the edges, while the body of the photo itself is thin, almost as thin as notebook paper. A simple picture of a log cabin, deep in the woods, old evergreens towering above it, boughs heavy with melting snow. The roof of the cabin is free of snow as well as the small porch, melted off from the heat coming from inside. The thin trail of smoke from the chimney blends into the background, spots on the film making the smoke appear denser than it must have been. A thin trail of ink on the back of the polaroid places the date as “‘73″ but the rest of the ink has smudged too badly to read.

I do promise I’ll get to them

Ah damn, give me a week or so. I should be existing inside that time again.