Post by shades on Mar 10, 2014 3:40:11 GMT
For those of you who know me as a roleplayer, I do actually like to write. I write troves and mountains of things; but more often than not they don't seem very good in the eyes of the author. However, what I do like, or need motivation on and help on. Well, they will probably end up on here. I probably will ask advice on some incomplete essays, books, or short stories. In the meantime, enjoy!
A descriptive essay on Nathan, my best friend.
A descriptive essay is one of sensory details, imaginative language, varied vocabulary, and interesting comparisons. The term, "show don't tell" is the key of descriptive writing. I don't want you to know everything about the person, place, or object. I want you to imagine it yourself what it looks like, using my writing abilities and use of adjectives.
In a large church after service, once everyone had left and it was just the two of us on our own. In this place on many cold winter days, my best friend and I would sit down for a warm cup of tea, and talk about our problems and worries, and ups and downs. My best friend, Nathan as he is called, would simply listen, while his fingers fiddled with the string of his teabag, waiting for the scalding liquid to cool and become forgotten as the minutes ticked by. There was only so much time in a Sunday afternoon before a vibrating phone would alert both of us to the hour and minutes, knowing that the conversation had dragged on too long.
As friends who often talk, we’re never afraid to look at each other; actually we often steal glances at the other from across the table. There are over a million stars in the universe, but my favorites are the ones in Nathan’s eyes. Hidden behind the clouded fog of the light condensation of the steamy drink on his large lenses is a treasure trove of beauty just waiting to be discovered. Like a looking-glass, I see myself in his dark depths when I look up as we speak—our eyes locking for that split second before one turns away with a shy smile. Like the ocean, it’s always a debate on what color his orbs are; whether it is a deep blue, or a sea green, I’ve seen it both ways and not once stopped to say which was better. There was never a need for Nathan to wear anything around the eyes, his dark eyelashes borders the mirror and make the prize piece stand out. For me it’s always embarrassing to get lost in the waves as we talk, stirring absently, and nodding my head thoughtfully and agog with Nathan’s facial features. Or when I mention him to someone who cares, and it’s the first thing that pops out of the boundless pictures, “his eyes are gorgeous” they would say. I merely would bob my head in agreement.
When Nathan speaks, he’s soft-spoken, shy, but there was wisdom and sophistication in every word. Each syllable was carefully thought out and drawn out, with a lick of his tongue and flicker of his eyes. Nathan would hum and tap on the styrofoam cup as he thought, thinking of his sentences with the delicacy of a ballet dancer. His tongue would dance over his pink lips every few moments, hands moving once again as Nathan began to speak like a typewriter. If it wasn’t for the empty atmosphere, he could barely be heard over the people meandering around and talking to others, elderly having to shout to hear each other, and the many adults greeting each other. Like a whispering butterfly, Nathan would share what was on his mind at the moment. Whether it was helpful advice, or his own difficulties, my ears would be pointed towards him and my thoughts lingering on each word he said. Comforting, never harsh, he could drone on-and-on all day if it was possible.
Although we both have our problems, each would smile like we didn’t have worries. For Nathan, it was natural for his pink lips to upturn and teeth would flash genuinely. It wasn’t a perfect, and white smile—his teeth were yellowed from early years of neglect and junk food. Even pearls sometimes have an off-white color to them, and Nathan’s were still gems that could make any girl happy when he flourishes his teeth in their direction nonchalantly. He lives by the proverb of a glad heart makes a cheerful face, Nathan always seems to be fortunate enough to have many happy days to smile and brighten another’s day. It always feels wonderful knowing the smile is in my direction, knowing I made Nathan laugh, or exulted that we were able to meet after many long days.
When the day has passed and the persistent buzzing alerted to the arrival of someone to pull us away from each other. There was always a pause for permission, like letting the other in a secret clubhouse, to hug the other. It was awkward, like a meerkat hugging a giraffe, the difference in our height making one bend over to lift the other in his arms and twirl as he muttered a good-bye. His scent was contradicting to the ocean in his eyes, forest musk barely noticeable until I was pressed into the fabrics of his shirt. To us, it was like the end of the world and we were galaxies apart from each other. Our sense of time between meetings would feel like years, maybe even centuries, before the dawn of his radiating smile would show itself again.
done or no?
