Zadown Posted January 12, 2003 Report Posted January 12, 2003 Door closes behind him and the wall of cold air rushes at him. Air like molten steel burning with terrible freezing flame, every gust of wind sharpening it into streams of knives. His breath steams out, creates the only cloud in sight. Above him the clear winter sky has hours ago deepened into dark obsidian color. Orange streetlights shine here and there in the deserted streets, every sensible soul hiding in their warm homes, as far away from the deadly bone-chilling cold as they can be. The bright lights obscure the stars, but they can't hide away the moon, a white semi-circle hanging alone in the inky black background. It looks unnaturally sharp, like a hole in the sky. The man, tall and thin, shivers briefly and then starts walking with the haste of somebody who wishes to be at home as soon as possible. He is clad in multiple layers of clothes, all different shades of black: trench coat, a hood hiding most of his face, mittens, jeans, leather boots. Another cloud drifts out from inside the hood, coloring his moustache and beard with the pure white of frost. He hurries over the wooden bridge, his boots making crunching noise on the snow instead of the usual thud. On his left side a school waits for the next monday, dark and silent. On his right, frost-rimed trees reach upwards, their white branches a bright contrast over the inky nigth sky. Beyond them stands an orthodox church, it's red brick walls and onion-shaped copper domes brilliantly lit by spotlights. Even though it is painfully cold, the man stops. The image engraves itself into his memory.
Wyvern Posted January 13, 2003 Report Posted January 13, 2003 Excellently written description, Zadown. I always greatly admire your uses of imagery, such as the metaphor of the air being like "molten steel burning with terrible freezing flame, every gust of wind sharpening it into streams of knives." The depiction of the moon as a "white semi-circle hanging alone in the inky black background...", looking "unnaturally sharp, like a hole in the sky" struck me as an excellent use of imagery as well. I greatly enjoyed this piece. ------------------------------ Almost a Dragon... "If it doesn't make dollars then it doesn't make sense" - Triple Seis, "Glamour Life" Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze. Edited by: Wyvern00 at: 1/12/03 9:04:37 pm
Recommended Posts