At Brookline's Driscoll School last week, I offered my Creating A Sense of Place in Fiction workshop, and once again the 8th graders took us to a myriad of places through the power of imaginative writing. Some samples excerpted below for your reading pleasure.
I sit in the car with the heated seats warming my insides. I look up through the roof at sky scrapers slowly passing by. A slight snow drifts down from the gray clouds. The car zig zags through traffic. The snow crunches under the tires and then we stop. The door opens and I step out, the umbrella shielding me from the snow.
The sun glinted off the freshly painted walls. The wind blew the curtains gently into the room. The mirror reflected the rays of sun so they fell across my bed lighting up the colorful stripes. The door hung open. Honey and fresh cut flowers spiraled up the the stairs and hung lingering in the air.
The tennis stadium filled with 70,000 people cheering, singing. My heart beating at an extreme level, my palms sweating. The whole world watching. The aroma of water, sweat and smoke in the air. The feel of the grass just cut. The taste of Gatorade bubbling in my stomach.
I strolled into the club and heard the loud music blaring. I could see the speakers bouncing. This was it alright. The largest Neptunian rager of all time. The club was huge, and I couldn't see the end of it. I could see people dancing for miles. I got a whiff of the scent of baby corn.
The night air was warm, the stars and moon smiling down on me ... Red and orange flames stained the darkness with color, and the black smoke shone in the dim patio lights. My shirt was flapping in the wind, the cool breeze wrapping around my arms ... I heard the laughing of my friends, my own laughter, and the faint popping of the wood as the flames squeezed the air out of it. I laughed again and threw another card into the bronze dish, only to have it become engulfed in flames. I smiled and backed up so my friend could throw his card.
The golden framed windows glared at me. The door was huge and made of glass and for one second I didn't want to go inside because the building seemed like an animal about to swallow me up. My knees were trembling as I walked towards the shiny golden elevator. My entire career would depend on the next half hour. My whole life, even. I had always wanted to be an actress. I loved the creak of the stage floor under my feet and the rustling of the curtains, but the best part was the applause ...
The officer pushes open the door; the cheap wood feels grainy and decrepit. As he steps onto the threshold, the reek of sewage and spoiled food makes him go to tears. The officer takes out his gun; he doesn't dare to go into the kitchen. He steps into the bedroom. To his dismay, he finds a man lying down with a knife in his back.
The soft, damp grass tickled the bottoms of my feet. A warm wind blew wrinkles in my hair ... The sun warmed the back of my legs as I let my ankles swish though the grass ... The smell of dandelions was sweet and pungent ...