Entry #543076, added on 10-20-07 @ 3:17 pm EDT
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| Descriptive Writing | Entry #543076 |
Over the years, I have become partial to random descriptive writing. When I am bored, and really need to work on describing a character, I pick a guy that I know (and most likely adore) and write a few things about him. Here are a few I have done.
Teddy Geiger/ Jonathan Vogel:
I saw a guy sitting on a stool behind the mic, a guitar in his lap. He was looking down at his fingers. He plucked notes, but I knew that I was the only close enough to hear them. He had dark brown hair that sat just on top of his shoulders. I didn't like long hair, but his wasn't flat and wirey, like some hippie. It was wavy and looked rather perfect. He was thin, but not skinny, and I liked the way his back arched as he leaned over his guitar. I took in his every feature, like the way his skin looked soft and was the perfect color- not too tan, but not too pale.
I didn't understand how someone could be so perfect at first glance. Before I had time to hide the obvious fact that I was staring at and analyzing this guy, he looked up, and when he did, I saw the most amazing sight. Even though the room we were sitting in was dimly lit and the walls were covered in a deep red color, his blue eyes shone brighter than anything else in the room; brighter than anything I had seen in months. And even though he could see me looking at him, and I could see him looking at me neither of us turned away.
He continued to pluck notes, one after another, as he smiled at me. When he did that, I realized that his smile lit up the room almost as much as his eyes did.
I smiled back.
Then, he stood up, took a few steps toward the mic, and started to speak.
Matt Childers:
I looked at the boy that I had just stopped on his way to the door.
His face still had a red tint from his 7th period PE class, and he had the same interested look on his face as he did everytime he looked at me; when he looked at anyone.
I still had my hand on his arm, right below the cut-off of his short-sleeve shirt. I saw that his short brown hair was starting to stick up around his neck, signaling that he was in need of a haircut. I smiled a quick smile at him while he waited for me to give my reason for stopping him.
He smiled really big; that smile that, for years to come, would cause my knees to buckle, but at the time just seemed like a nice gesture.
Then my eyes met his, and for the first time since we met, I really noticed them and almost got lost in them. There was so much green that it seemed that I couldn't find his pupils. And it wasn't a normal green. It was the deepest, most intoxicating green I'd ever seen. I wasn't sure how long we stood like that before I snapped myself back to reality and dropped my hand. "You're right, Keyania," I said as I saw my friend approach us out of the corner of my eye. "They are green."
Daniel Craig:
My God, his eyes. They're impossibly blue. I didn't know that color occured in nature. I couldn't even picture that color in my imagination. They're the color of water on those screensavers with those unrealistic beaches that are out of our reach, with clear ocean and perfect golden sand. His hair is a wonderful shade of yellow that brings out the perfect tan of his skin.
Where do I go from here? The cute wrinkles on his forehead, his adorable ears, his wonderfully formed cheekbones? And his lips. They're an amazing shade of pink. Wonderfully round, wonderfully kissable. I can just imagine how soft they would be.
His rock-hard body- washboard stomach, perfectly formed pecs- but yet it's so much more fun to look at when draped in the sexiest tuxedo. And man, does he look like an Adonis in a tux. His angelically shaped biceps are picture perfect when he lies in his bed or leans over his bathroom sink. And wow, is it fun to look at his little gluteous maximus. Oh, to have his hand smooth up my leg. To have him bite my bottom lip. Or just shed one of those heart-stopping smiles just for me.
I'd die.
Will Krogman:
She remembered the way he looked Saturday night- a lot different than he did now. That night he wore a blood-red, button-up shirt that, in the light, would have been more along the lines of candy cane red. In the bright cafeteria, his blonde hair sat flat on his head, but in her mind's eye, she saw the way it looked at the dance; the way it stuck up in a surprising new hairstyle.
Everything about him made her hyper-aware of every cell in her body. She caught a glimpse of his hands and remembered the heat of them on her back when he leaned in to hug her. When she looked at his mouth, she could imagine how his lips would be soft to the touch and felt a tingle as if he'd already placed a kiss there.
At the dance, the sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, but here, in the unnecessarily bright lighting, his green cross-country jacket came down to his wrists, covering what she knew were perfectly shaped fore-arms.
Oh goodness, now she was analyzing his forearms? She sighed to herself and forced herself to look away from his table. This was a boy who was going to be hard to snatch up, but man, was he worth it. |
© Copyright 2007 GryffindorGurl (UN: magicfreak11 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
GryffindorGurl has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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