Appealing to the Senses

[Ayshela]

One of the primary ways for a storyteller to make a scene real to the reader is to engage the senses with a broad-ranging, vivid description. There's a great difference in impact between "She walked into the house, threw her coat toward the chair, and headed toward the kitchen where she knew her mother was." and "She walked slowly into the house, grateful for the warmth against her snow-covered cheeks. She sniffed the air appreciatively as she shed her coat, greedily inhaling the smells of baking apples, cinnamon and cloves. As she walked toward the kitchen she tried to hear, over the rumbling of her stomach, the song her mother was singing to herself."

 

For this exercise, i'd like you to write a short description, including elements for at least three of the senses. i don't care *what* you describe, only that the description includes details appealing to at least three senses.

 

This exercise may be done twice, earning ten geld for the first description and five for the second.

 

Have fun! =)

[Lady Celes Crusader]

Little Angela gracefully dances in the falling snow, letting each flake that falls in her palms melting away. The wind caresses the girl's cheecks with freezing strokes. The child stops her dancing and admires the choregraphy that nature arranged with the snowflakes. Then, Angela runs around, her mouth wide open, tasting the cold snow on the tip of her tongue.

 

The little girl hears steps that are making cracking noises on the crystalline blanket. It was her mothers, who summons Angela to go back home. The child gazes one last time on the shimmering decor before heading back home.

[Black9]

Anna walked into the village with her head held high. She could hear...somewhere in the distance...a song of wonderous feeling playing...no...soaring though the air like a flood throughout the town. This particular town was known for its extravagantly prepared gourmet meals and quite possibly the cleanest water in the area. The haunting aroma of the crab drifted around each corner...through every mouse hole and even under every doorway of Smallville. Anna leavitated into the air...much like cartoons...as she followed the smell of the crab and finally reached the end of her search. Pulling a chair out from under the table...Anna took the first heavenly bite of the succulent treat and finally knew what heaven must be like.

 

 

 

 

 

Death stormed onto the field of battle with a hunger for war. He could simply taste the blood that would be spilt in his name and that of his god. The hatred within his heart was that of a thousand men. It was then that the moon transformed from a pale white...to that of a blood red omen. The battle raged with the glorious sounds of death. Death's ears tingled with that of humanities end and sent his soul...if he had one...into flight. Picking a fallen foe up from the unearthly ground...Death sucked a few drops of blood from the poor dead soul and thrust him back to where he once lay. The taste of the succulent blood coursed his throat...bringing with it the thoughts of old forgotten times.

 

 

There's two:)

[Canid]

I carefully removed the globe from its shelter, placing it on the table with a dusty thud. It stood a foot tall and was dully colored. It was not tilted, but sat vertically on its axel and spun smoothly. The continents bore no relation to their familiar forms and had been scrawled on in a ghastly shade of purple by someone with an unsteady hand. I ran my finger along the carefully detailed ocean canyons. The surface wrinkled beneath and I watched in shock as a paper wave crashed and dissipated against an island labeled "Fgerrot". A drop of cold ocean water slid off my finger and splashed against the table.

Edited December 6, 2004 by Canid

[purple_shadows]

Shadows dance across the cobblestones, cast by the sconces hung in the doorway of the fourtune teller's abode. The musky scent of incense fills the air. Looking up from the street bellow a sillhouette stands in the window, watching, waiting. No one knows what for. Yet every night just as the sun is setting there she stands, hands pressed flat against the slowly cooling window pane, staring towards the rapidly darkening horizon.

Edited December 6, 2004 by purple_shadows

[Wyvern]

Wyvern playfully prances towards a table located at the center of the Cabaret Room, noticing the shadowy outline of Black's vampiric cloak and contemplating whether or not a blood donation might be required for seating. The greedy lizard pauses for a moment in order to consider this possibility, only to perk up as he notices Celes Crusador standing nearby. He grins and races forward as he decides to "accidentally" bump into the Troubador, brushing against her and savouring the soft and ticklish feel of her blue overgown... a feeling familiar to the lizard from countless Cafe catastrophes. Wyvern cringes when the pleasant feel of Celes Crusador's clothes is accompanied by an equally familiar roar of cursing that exits from her lips, which he ducks and counters with a few shrill apologies before racing onwards. The lizard continues moving towards the table until he comes across Canid, who he greets with a traditional wolf sniffing ritual. He stays only for a few seconds, however, as he whifs in the repugnant odor of freshly killed rabbit and decides to quickly move onward. The remainder of Wyverns journey to the table passes uneventfully, and upon arriving the greedy lizard notices Ayshela's coat hanging on an unattended chair. Glancing left and right, he slowly tip-toes towards the hanging coat and digs one of his claws inside, searching until it comes across the familiar metallic etchings of a piece of geld.

 

;-)

[Gryphon]

Gryphon slips into the air gracefully after the passing of the storm. The wind caresses his feathers with gentle hands welcoming him back to the skys that he loves so much. Taking a deep breath of the air he is treated to a symphony of scents, fresh and intense after the rain, all laiden with the smell of rain just past. Turning in the air to watch the clouds vanishing into the distance the mighty thunderheads fare him well with a low roll of thunder, pulsating and throbing in the air before fading, just as the clouds do, into the middle distance.

[Mynx]

Meditating quietly in a corner, Mynx closes her eyes and opens the rest of her senses to the growing bustle in her surroundings. Her ears begin to twitch slightly as the feline's already keen hearing is heightened by the added focus, picking up the sounds of the carnival about her as it is being set up.

Inhaling deeply, Mynx takes in the somewhat comforting scent of hay as she completes the relaxation on her body, the scent bringing back memories of her childhood home, calling thoughts of family and old friends.

Completing all she had intended in the clutter of her mind, Mynx retreats from the internal room of her thoughts and opens her eyes, smiling softly to herself as she observes all about her with the heightened colour that follows her methods, her mind and body totally relaxed for the first time in weeks, creating a long missed feeling of relaxed pleasure in the feline's formerly stressed disposition.

[cryptomancer]

Drifting through the empty streets of the city, the ache of winter’s last gentle caress reddening the skin of my face, arms dimple in the bite of early morning wind, I see the traces of the night, spill around the bins and gutters. Crunching between the pavement and the soles of the impractical business shoes I wear, glass and gravel mix their tune to the traffic, cutting into the silence of my thoughts. Soft whispers of movement around me tell of the lost souls heading for their daytime habitations, offices and stores, the last refuge of the worker from the hunting chill of early spring. Sinking into the warm aroma of the café I find my solitude broken by the smile welcome, blinding me through my shades, Grinning I remove them and nod, “The usual is fine, thank you.”

 

 

Tracing the soft lines of her cheek, my fingers draws the memories from her skin, each crease of her smile lights the soft burn of love in my wandering fingertips. The cool mist grey of her eyes washing my thoughts clear of all but the vision of her, softly playing, in the song of her beating heart, all that we share.

 

[Peredhil]

"How are you doing today," she inquired brightly.

He had a headache. No, his head pounded. No, there were all seven dwarves, hammering molten iron into incandescent wires they called nerves. Without the plume and stench of cooling water. That didn't capture it either. His nerves were extending like antennae several feet beyond his skin, itching with sensitivity, curling and writhing in an effort to catch every nuance of sound and race it back to be amplified in his skull. Which was producing somewhat the same effect as putting an egg in front of the amp at a Rock concert - after an hour, it ends up soft-boiled. Eggs. The thought of eggs brought bitter acid up into his throat to burn like lava. Like a lava lamp, the blobs of pain moving and shifting slowly into fractal patterns, ever burning and never quite repeating enough to be acknowledged and ignored. He dreaded light, that harbringer of life and existence, which would drive away the soothing darkness and pound slivered barbed spikes into his left eye, igniting fireworks and streamers and Roman candles of exquisite sensation beyond pain.

Rolling over, he replied, "Fine, be up in a moment Dear."

 

~~~~~

 

The moonlight kissed the flesh that had never seen sunshine. It glowed a silvered ivory in the dark, a beacon of desire contrasting with the deep tan. A hand moved, a caught breath... released slowly. A shiver without cold, hair rising, aching, to caress back the jasmine scented palm hovering over it. Butterfly kisses burning like fire spirals down the inside of a wrist to end lightly lipping lacquired fingernails. . Labored breathing, tension building, toes curling and clenching in uncontrollable reflex.

Cuddling and whispering in the dark, the moon merely a memory of hours past.

[Tasslehoff]

One after another the little penguin flapped his soft fuzzy wings trying to catch just a bit of the icy winter breeze that blew across his icicle coverd nose. * Come on . Just a little bit more * He said to himself as he felt himself getting higher and higher. * Yes . Yes. I AM DOING IT! * Shouted the Penguin at the top of his exhausted lungs, but jjust as he gets his little orange feet off the ground, he looses his concentration due to an over-powering smell and falls down, back to the cold. Slowly rising Opus shouts a few minor curses b ut again inhales what seems to be cherries and cinnamin. Slowly breathing in he gradually lets the smells warm up his body before he waddles off to the sweet smell of cherries and fresh cinnamin. * It must be done * Opus points out to himself. Without another word the penguin dashes off through the snow and wind towards his home for some yummy pie.

[Venefyxatu]

In a laboratory located deep underground, dimly lit by a few candles, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scratching of chalk on stone. It went on for quite some time, the candles burning steadily in the still air.

When the candles were about half-way, the mage was satisfied and moved to his tome, his heels clicking on the ancient stone floor. Despite his fingers being covered in chalk he enjoyed the feeling of the aged parchment as he browsed to the spell he would be casting in only a moment's time. Calmly he placed the bitter leaf that was required on his tongue, hardly noticing the taste from years of experience, and started weaving his arms in patterns, spreading the dust from the bones he'd crushed earlier that day.

As the patterns his fingers were weaving became more complex and he started chanting, his fingers started leaving trails of purple light in the dust that was now in the air. The light was vague at first, but as it spread towards the chalk circle on the ground it became more intense, until the mage had to close his eyes or be blinded. Despite his closed eyes he knew exactly what was happening - the runes the circle was made up from started glowing, one by one, until the circle was blazing with a purple glow so intense it could easily be called hellish, and through the light, a vague shape could be made out...

 

---

 

And a real-life one :

 

While the hydraulic bus doors open with that typical, hissing sound to let in a gush of fresh air I let Selex slide into my hand. The smooth metallic cover feels good in my hand, and I start tapping the keys. I can hear their soft clicks, knowing that nobody else can, and I can almost see her extending her senses, trying to feel for other Bluetooth equipment around.

A rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins as I see a name pop up - "Nokia 6310i". With hands that are becoming slightly cold (I don't know why but they do that when I'm nervous) I tap a few keys and send off a message - "All your base are belong to us."

I wait for a beep, but in vain... no cell phone makes a sound, even though Selex tells me "Contact sent". When we get to my stop, I get off the bus unaware of who my victim was...

[Tanuchan]

Tanny slid noiselessly into the cave, the damp air caressing softly her face. She let her eyes adapt to the dimness, the shadows quickly becoming sharper and revealing to be loose rocks strewn on the ground. Stepping carefully further down the cave, her sensitive paws felt the strange roughness of the earth; it was not the common feeling of packed earth, or of earth mixed with pebbles. It felt strangely like fine gravel, out of place in a cave like this one.

 

A subtle draft touched the tips of her ears, coming from an odd angle. Tanny stopped, and stepped back until feeling again that cool, breezy finger playing with her ears, almost teasingly. She looked around, ffinally locating a tiny gap among the rocks to her right. Without approaching it, she noticed the sharp edges of the rocks around the aperture. The light coming from outside was dim for human eyes, but her wolf vision saw the shadows cast by the stalactites into the hole. She noticed also the odd angle of those shadows, as if the light was coming from right above the entrance and not from the mouth of the cave.

 

Well... this must be the place...

 

She threw her senses around her, and then a soft, whispering sound reached her ears. It was similar to the wind passing through the leaves of trees, and it brought to her the memory of old forests far away. With the whisper, it came the music of dripping water not far. Closing her eyes, Tanny concentrated on locating the direction of that teasing murmur, a soft voice promising rest and peace. Not surprisingly, it came from the same direction of the breeze. Again, she looked at the small hole in the rocky wall.

 

Nodding, she approached the rocks and touched them with her front paw. They were slightly warm, and had a silky quality that made her frown. The voice kept whispering promises, and the cool draft now played with her muzzle, inviting her to follow and explore.

 

Grounding and centering, Tanny easily found the strong earth flow. And wasn't surprised to sense a glowing node of energy nearby. Nudging the flow gently, letting it envelope her whole being as a caring lover, she probed carefully the rocky wall.

 

There was a rumbling and a trembling, distant at first then becoming louder and nearer. The rocks around the tiny hole jerked as if suddenly alive, and their pointed edges rotated looking for the source of disturbance. As Tanny kept probing and nudging, the rocks started to slid apart. Not smoothly, but with a grinding, unwilling sound, clearly forced against what magic held them together in the first place.

 

 

Silence fell in the cave. Even the soft voice and the breeze were gone. Tanny looked at the gaping mouth in front of her, now feeling a cold touch on her fur, as if Winter were daring her to go on.

[Gwaihir]

Sitting at my computer, hearing the keys click and feeling the slightly damp socks on my feet. Too lazy to take them off though. Feeling the floor under my butt. Strange that this is so comfortable, when I first started sitting on the floor in from of my computer it seemed so unbearably cramped w/o room to stretch my feet. Now, home from the council meeting, comfortable, home!

[HappyBuddha]

The mischevious gust of wind ducked around my outstretched hand like a cheeky fairy, nimbly invading the yawning maw that was my mouth. The unexpected blast of wind tickled the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow, and I tasted the whispering emptiness of saliva as I felt it inch down my esophagus. Coughing, I looked away and tried not to notice the flowery smell the scent of fresh garbage that the wind was dumping on my nostrils like an unwanted package. Edited December 9, 2004 by HappyBuddha

[dragonqueen]

Before she has time to change her mind, she is running down the hill. She hears the wind fly past her as she gathers speed, whipping her hair back from her face and numbing her skin. Her breath comes in short, dry pants as a combination of cold air and exericise burns her lungs. But for a few moments, she feels the joy of uninhibited speed, and seeing the world rush past her like a blurred slideshow makes her feel like she is flying. Pentup energy rushes out of her, gleefully expended in her sprint. Her legs slow, and she stops, feeling the ache after the initial rush. The brief run catches up with her, and she bends over and puts her hands on her knees. Warmth creeps back into her system, driving out the wind chill. She grins, even as she tries to catch her breath, the adrenaline still rushing through her veins.

Edited December 7, 2004 by dragonqueen

[Gryphon]

The rain trickled down the back of the hunters neck in icy riverlets, like skeletal fingers reaching to clutch at his heart through his spine. He grimaces, and refains from uttering the words he wants to least they betray his presence to his prey.

 

The wind, never quiescent when you need it to be, seemed to be taking malicious pleasure at buffeting him, tugging at his tight fitting clothing and numbing his fingers and nose with it's icy kiss and he mentally cursed it too, for making a difficult job harder.

 

Straining his ears he caught a whisper of sound, dancing through the noise of the rain to tantalise his hearing. Footsteps. The slow, steady, tired steps of prey that does not yet know it has become hunted. It was a welcome sound for the hunter, like the first strains of a fine orchestra, promising so much more. Promising the end of a job, promising satisfaction to come.

 

Moving with the grace born from years of practice the hunter moved with stealth and speed toward the sound of his prey. As he moved he withdrew from a special pocket a small metal object, palming it against iminent need.

 

Rounding a corner the he stops, there short steps ahead is his target, the two men stare at one another for the briefest of moments, the prey opening his mouth, perhaps to shout, perhaps to speak. The truth will never be known for with a deft flick of his wrist the hunter sends a slim metal throwing blade slicing through the air and into his victim. Then he closes his eyes and waits.

 

Within moments it starts, like the sensation of a fine wine crossing the tounge, the smoothest brandy. Life energy began to seep from the prey into the hunter. A sigh of satisfaction escapes, the barest whisper of pleasure, and the flow thickens now being quaffed back, the heady draught of life force stolen from dying prey, ebbing, ebbing... and gone.

 

Gone is the rich flood that so tantalised the scences. Now the hunter turns, a new vitality in his step, a muted glow in his eyes. He smiles to himself as he moves off into the night repleat with a feast of human life force. It's so good to be an assasin when your main source of norishment is the human soul in pain... The hunter vanishes into the night.

[epinephrine]

Fingers trembling with a strabge combination of tiredness and caffiene, she lowered the cup. The sensation of its warm touch against her lips lingered and a waft of coffee and warm toast massaged the end of her nose. Smiling she licked the remaining sweet froth from her upper lip and flicked open the paper with a snap. Someone should really ban Monday mornings.

 

 

The harsh crunch of the frost, fresh on the morning ground brought him back with a shock. Despite the burgeoning warmth of the infant sun, the air remained sharp and cold against his skin. Drawing his laces tight and adjusting his shin guards, he stepped out of the tunnel. A wall of intense sound assaulted his every fibre as he began to run out onto the pitch, every muscle humming in anticipation of the approaching match.

 

This was fun!

 

epinephrine

[Annael]

Heart pounding so hard it hurt her ears, she slowly opened her eyes to the darkness surrounding her. Thick as molasses, the only sound in the room was her harsh breathing, and the pounding of her heart. The soft flannel sheets against her bare skin told her she was in her bed. Licking her dry lips, she tasted a slight metallic flavour. Trying to slow her breathing, she realised that her tongue was sore. She must have biten it in her sleep, during her nightmare. Sitting up slowly and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, the coldness of the hardwood floor against her toes was a shock to her system, helping her to wake up. Closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose, she heard a shifting behind her and stiffened as a hand roughly clamped onto her arm. The real nightmare had just begun.

[Riven]

Laying in bed, dark shadows danced overhead, frighting poor Sammy. Sammy pulled his blanket over his head, the fuzzies tickling his skin. He laid there in the dark, letting his imiganation run wild, wondering what the monsters were doing. Creeek, Creeeek, Creeek. Oh no, what was that noise? Wondered Sammy. *Flush* Oh just someone using the bathroom, Sammy sighed in relief.

 

 

***********************

 

Sitting in the temple, waiting for the moment the dieties will be revealed seems like a lifetime. Then the most amazing sight is shown to me, the colors are undescribible, making my heart skip a beat. The voices around me cry out in praise, the sound sends my soul flying to higher realms. As I bow down, the cold floor reminds me, I am not home yet, in heaven with my bloved dieties, Radha-Krishna.

[Zadown]

The echoes of the last loud crack of breaking stone faded. The silence after the preceding incessant clamour brought all the other sensations to a sharp, clear focus, and Wodzan became very aware of the biting coldness of the dry air, the few glinting motes of ice drifting in the fresh breeze that violated the tomb that had slept in peace for hundreds of years. He slowly lowered the mallet in his hands and pierced the darkness of the musty room with his dark green eyes.

 

Feeling suddenly very human, awed by what his second sight told him about the sword suspended above a stone pedestal on an iron stand, rusty and old, he wiped his sweaty palms on his green robes. Reverently he stepped forward, carefully grasped the scabbard and the hilt of the katana, savoured the smoothness of the former and the roughness of the latter. Wodzan took a deep if unnecessary breath, then drew the blade with glacial slowness, his eyes caressing the jade-green blade as it emerged from its cocoon. The sound of the blade being unsheated in the total quiet was a deadly rustle, the sound of a quiescent snake coming back to life with sparks in its eyes and hunger in its smile. The planewalker grinned in response and breathed the name of his find.

 

"Benefical Dragon."

[Nyyark]

His eyelids scraped painfully across their trusting wards. What could only be white acid forced a reflex closing no less painful. He tried to extend his awareness to whatever limbs he might have retained, and instantly cursed his adventurous spirit. They had to be attached in some way or another in order to tell him they hurt that much.

 

He opened his eyes just enough to let sunlight filter through his lashes as his tongue probed his mouth. He dribble-coughed out the gritty copper-tasting mass his tongue scrounged up. Blood and sand- that narrowed the possibilities.

 

He forced his eyes open a crack wider. Nothing but orange sand and bright blue skies all around him.

 

'Great', he thought, 'They dumped me in the middle of a desert'.

[Zariah]

Zariah awoke from a restless night of sleep. Her nightmares seemed to have come alive that night, and as she turned to her night stand, she could still smell the stench that haunted her in her dreams. It was a stench of rotten fruit. As she stumbled from her bed, it became more pungent that before. As she reached below the bed to grab some air freshener from her box of cleaning supplies, she felt a gooey round object instead. \

 

“Ewwwww!” she screamed. Immediately, she dropped it and withdrew her hand. It was covered with moldy and gelatinous slime. She ran out the door and washed her hands in the bathroom several times with disinfectant soap. She grabbed 5 sheets of paper towels and pinched her nose as she entered her room. Bending down to peer underneath, she saw the moldy apple. She picked it up with several of the towels and cleaned to floor with anti-bacterial spray. She raced from her room and the building to deliver the reeking muck to the forest. With her bare hands, she dug a hole in the soft dirt. She could feel the soil and ran the flowing earth through the gaps between her finger tips. Snapping out of her daze, she placed the towel rapped apple into the ground and covered it with soil. She patted the ground down and sat down beside her work and recalled how on her trip she felt so close to nature. She considered her actions as a gift to Mother Nature, for it would feed many bugs and enrich the earth.

 

She wandered back to her room and sprayed everywhere with Lysol. It was so strong, that it burned her eyes. She tried to blink enough to have the sting flushed from her eyes, but it was useless. Her sight was blurry, and she was beginning to have a stomach ache. Blindly putting on some clean clothes and her brown cloak, she made it back to the bathroom to once again wash her hands. The water trickled between her fingertips, as the soil had, and she remembered her connection with the Earth. Deciding to revisit the forest, she exited the Pen once again, this time for a peaceful walk.

 

“Perhaps I can call the Crows to share the visit I had with my family tribe. They should be interested to know the happenings in that area so far away.”

 

When she reached a far enough distance from the Pen, she climbed into a tall Oak Tree to begin her breathing exercises. After a clam meditation, she began her calls. Loud and clear Crow speak exited her lips—with vocal chords singing a song, so unique, she was well identified by the animals of the woodland. The first arrival was the crow she named Wanderer, which was because he had been almost as many places that she had. Wanderer joined in her invitation, and soon came Brown Beak. She was fond of Brown Beak and welcomed him to sit on her arm.

 

“Ouch!” she said, “Your claws are sharper than usual. But you can sit on my shoulder, it’s padded.”

 

He nuzzled her cheek, but remained silent as she continued with Wanderer. Not long after Brown Beak came the Three brothers Tip (he had gray tips on three of his feathers), Bright Eyes (His eyes were the color of crimson), and Long Legs (obviously, his legs were long for a crow). The four female Crows seemed to be missing.

 

“Where are Serene, Beauty, Harmony, and Fiery?”

 

Long Legs smiled (the way a crow smiles….it cannot be seen by an unexposed human.) and replied in the tribe language that they were preparing the Winter Nests.

 

Zariah asked first that they share her story with them when she was finished, and they heartily agreed. And so…..she began the tales of her journey.

Edited December 17, 2004 by Zariah

[Xaious, Master of Time]

1: All things have their breaking points, and the human skull is no different. And after being pounded with so many cold, hard, heavy and small steel balls, one should be afraid if they don't hear the sickening cracking and splintering of bone or the odd squishing sounds as the bone shards rend the flesh as another smooth projectile thuds into the flesh, intruding on the brain. And, supposing that human were not made to forfeit life from the sickening mess of his forehead, then surely would he gag as the righ crimson and rusty penny taste of the his life-blood reached his mouth.

 

2: Rough, brown, and more akin to bark than I've yet informed, tough and stringy, smothered even with the red semi-solid of ketchup or the glowing yellowed of some dairy product, cardboard makes the better delicacy. This seed-home from the forever green pine tree dead and brown the cone with the seeds, waste not your time on this, for the flavor, god-awful.

 

(I know the second one from experience...heh heh.....Trust me when I say that Magic Cards taste better than Pinecones......(bland flavor is better than bad flavor).....)

[Zadown]

She makes a small gesture and tons of steel copy it: metallic, glinting dark blue fingers gesturing to the huge door of the hangar. The control suit is dirty, the smell of old, dried sweat and other even more disgusting bodily fluids stinging her nose, but the feeling of power overrides the minor discomfort. Not to mention the suit is warm, something that isn't trivial here - through the augmented senses of the mech she can hear the wail of the winter winds even through the massive door and reinforced walls.

 

She takes a step forward, the feeling of the rough and tattered control suit against her bare skin fading into background as she becomes what she pilots. She dons on the aches and strengths of the animated pile of metal and leaves her flesh behind.