Seperate paragraphs, all ment to be specifically vivid and to have a specific mood.
| Colors expanding before my eyes, they wash through the waters as the sunset dies into the hills. A bird flies across the sky and gives a cry of victory as a small rodent is caught in it’s claws. It lands in a tree, laden with pinecones which rustle to receive the bird. I catch the whiff of flowers, a hot day relenting to a cool night. My lips are salty, caught in a perpetual smile. The water ripples away from my bare feet in slow waves to splash lightly against the small boat tethered to the dock I sit on. The trees pierce the night sky as silhouettes against the fading light. My boyfriend holds me, and our talk winds around the coil of life.
The lands stretch out before me, as I sit on the rim of civilization. Below me the games continue, and spreading out on the other side is the busy streets of Rome. The sky is a pure blanket of blue, the buildings rise in contrast of brown and tan. Crows caw as they launch from their roost, dive down and pick up some tidbit of food left behind by the market place left.
In the streets I can see from the slave market to the other side of Rome, where the fine linens and pottery are sold. In the slave market all is as usual, the rotting flesh and the dying bodies, I can smell them from here. Most people have come to accept the smell, understanding it is the scent of progress. The carts rattle through the narrow streets and alley ways laden with food and produce. Dust rises, from the busy city, it drifts up to rest above the crown of the empire as a cloud, the dust clots the throat slightly, coming to rest on my skin, a fine layer of Roman life. People jostle and bicker for their goods, their voices rising and falling as they set on an agreement of price. Finally coins change hands to seal their agreement with small clinks as they fall.
In the stadium I now straddle continues the festival of games, the valiant and brave gladiators waring against their opposers; wild animals and chariot riders. The excitement is thick in the air, I can pluck it from the sky. I can smell the sweat and blood, even from where I perch. The yells and the cries rise from the crowd, the gladiators, the catalysts. The savageness runs through the stadium as thick as the blood spills to the ground.
The scattered streets sprawl out before me in a wandering maze. Merchants trade with servants, and servants run errands for their masters. Towering above them is a new building, of new proportions. To civilize Pisa Italy, I was contracted to build this. I have done so, and now it is coming to a climax to finality.
Unfortunately, it appears that I made a minor mistake in my calculations and choice of construction sight, so that over time my masterpiece will come to lean on one side. This is horrific! What is now perfect, the flagship of Pisa Italy will soon come to pass as the laughing stalk of mankind.
Now, I am known as the man who constructed the most amazing building known to man. Later, in a close future, I will become the bunt of all jokes, for I made one small error. One small, poor choice of placement, and my building will lean pathetically to one side.
Why God, why am I faced with this calamity? This was supposed to be the pinnacle of my architecture carrier, and now will be the downfall of it. Why do you curse me this way? What have I done to you? Not only will you give me the desire of my heart, to go down in history for my magnificent art, but you will also snatch it away, out of the claws of victory! Why must you torture me this way, why must my building lean to one side at an obscure angle?
Will it really change the course of history if my tower is not an embarrassment to me? Does it really have to be this way! Is it worse then not even being known worldwide? Yes, yes, I believe it is. I think so... could I possibly just illuminate this horrific building before it is complete? Somehow destroy the foundation so that it not only leans, but crashes, to one side before it is completed? Possibly. It would not be difficult... but I could not destroy the creation of my hands...
Then again, eventually gravity will take its toll and my tower will come crashing down. Unexpectedly, creating a whole new fascination with my magnificent tower. They will say, “see? I told you he was a genius. He thought to himself ‘I will make it lean to one side, so that everybody will know my name as a fool, and then, eventually, my exorbitant tower will fall. And on that day, everybody will truly curse my name in horror and awe’”. Yes, that is what they will say. I will not destroy it now, but be willingly to make the sacrifice of laughing stalk for generations, and then eventually the natural forces will do the job for me... and then I will be considered an architecture genius once again.
Towering above me into a forest of cement spikes the buildings block the sunlight. Cars zoom by, honking, drivers cussing, making a din of metropolitan noise. People hurry along, buy a hot dog, purchase a bagel, maybe a magazine as they crowd each other to get to work. Jumbled together their lives collide with sharp sparks of friction, and the city’s gears grind away another day.
Grinding away, day after day, at time, at people’s hearts and at the world we live in. governed by the rules of humanity our lives collide, spark, grind and continue. Sparking together to evoke deep and contradictive emotions of joy, dispair, anger and jealousy. Grinding away to make the clockwork tick, our lives blossom against each other to create not only a dismal scene of chaos but also a confusing but perfect tapestry of emotion, humanness and hope.
These are just writing exercises, but I would appreciate a review greatly. I would like to know if you think they are as vivid as I intend them to be.