Creative Writing: Snap

The cacophonous sound of rain flooded my ears, but the wind had since died and it now pendent down in vertical parallel paths like ropes dependent on the sky to support them.

snow, the snapping of twigs in the frigid air, in the long, star-hung nights, a coyote’s yelp, the

like a panther...Rainsford froze there. Every muscle tensed for a spring.” (23-24) To express the

The wind started to roar the suddenly dark sky sent a chill down the old mans spine. Every limb on their beloved peach tree began to shiver and sway. Creak! Creak! The tree branches said as they bent down over the now humbled old couple.

Outcroppings of Pine and Birch shifted in the unrelenting wind as if they were the scales on the bodies of primordial dragons attempting to settle their massive forms into the damp ground beneath them. An endless horizon of white edged waves bit at the tails of one another in a crashing cacophony until they foamed, frothed and broke against the shore.

The branches of the willows brushed across the ground with the slight breeze that carried throughout the valley. Long grass swayed lightly, bending over the path to slide across the dirt trail. A howl could be heard in the distance, echoing through the air.

The weather in this scene is very ominous. “It was a very dark evening for summer: the clouds appeared inclined to thunder,” Nelly tells Lockwood (124). Not much later, a horrible storm begins. “There was a violent wind,” Nelly says, “and either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the building...but the uproar passed away in twenty minutes, leaving us all unharmed, excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched” (125).

"Hike! I called among the ear-splitting sound of thunder and roaring wind. The game recommenced in a furious battle. We were making strides down the field, but Cedarwood defense was strong, and they were up by two.

Chipper kissed his world goodbye. Goodbye to Mrs. Larson, the friendly squirrel running Fantasy Pastries who especially loved the chewy things called Gummy Bears. Goodbye to Stacy and Kaylee, the neighbors across the street. Bye to everyone. Bye to sweet, sweet home. Bye to his life. Bye to...Aspolia. This thought sent a chill down Checker’s little body. Down he went, his eyes still on the grand civilization far above him. Down, down, down until...SLAM! Chipper’s tiny body abruptly met the hard surface of the dry earth beneath him as the air escaped his lungs forcefully out between his gritted teeth because of the impact of the rocky soil against his figure. The force of him impacting the ground seemed to have shattered the quiet and peace in Berph. Dust flew everywhere over the dry, dead earth, and Checker, fortunately, was alive, struggling to keep himself from alive from the harsh landing. He inhaled the harsh air around him, eyes closed, body sore. He coughed and sputtered, struggled to stay awake. Then, he fell unconscious.

From my room,I had smelt and sensed that rain was about to  arrive and had scurried outside before the drops commenced.Sweet anticipation formed inside as I awaited the blissful raindrops to pelt me on my face and body.The wind rose higher and grew frighteningly violent,swirling throwing rocks and gravel into the air.The thin

Crunch. Carter advanced into the forefront of the forest. The towering wooden statues with sprawling limbs guarded the darkness. The dirt; covered in the tears of the great unmoving figures. As Carter inhaled, the decaying air seared the back of his throat. A pungent tang singed the inside of his nostrils. The silence was only broken by the crunch of the leaves beneath Carter’s feet. Crunch – Crunch – Crunch. The sun had fallen as the evening aged. Leaving occasional beams of moonlight to illuminate Carter’s way.

It was almost as if that was nature’s way of dousing me with frigid water to end stupefaction or a deep slumber, but to the best of it’s ability with what it had on hand in the present situation. I promptly blinked my eyes in repeated fashion for several seconds, in lieu of using my hands to wipe the sleepiness of my eyes as they were coated in filth from the barn, and regained my senses as the wind dwindled to inexistence. The blades of grass around me, of moderate height, flexed and waved in accordance with wind but began returning to their natural looped and erect positions over the span of mere seconds. Their motion, or lack of in that moment, caught my attention as I began to gaze about the land and directed my eyes towards the right of where I was standing, and the barn, and found the wind continuing its reign of motion upon the grass. I found it intriguing to notice the phenomenon and observed as the same reign gradually fell over the land nearing and eventually all around me once more, similar to the moments preceding that

Evening had arrived and everything had been packed away ready for its next use. It had also brought the grim warning of a storm. The sky was brimming with a dark shade of grey and black, making the mood eerily mysterious. A storm was brewing; it was about to blow, just like a volcano about to erupt. Then, “Boom!”. A lightning strike crackled across the sky, one after another. After three lightning strikes a downpour of rain fell from the sky.

As he turned to go on, he spat speculatively. There was a sharp, explosive crackle that startled him. He spat again. And again, in the air, before it could fall to the snow, the spittle crackled. He knew that at fifty below, spittle crackled on the snow, but this spittle had crackled in the air. Undoubtedly, it was colder than fifty below - how much colder he did not know.

The wild west wind came down through the fields, rousing the deer from their reverie, and swaying the bee-studded flowers. From its highest bough to the loose sand on its mighty roots, the ancient tree quivered lightly, yet was untroubled by the breeze. Many a storm had passed over the tree, yet no rain had managed to drown those fathomless roots, no hail had managed to bite the iron bark.