Creative Writing Describing Items

Well, I decided to take a Creative Writing course for my Junior year in High School, and it's turning out pretty good for just a week. The teacher is having us write three descriptions; a thing, a place, and a person. We recently handed in our assignment for 'a thing', and are now currently working on 'a place'. Here's mine, tell me what you think:

You gaze into the shimmering metallic substance, your deformed reflection gazing back at you. As your fingerpads run over the surface, it feels cold, like an arctic wind, strange for such a thing that was crafted in flames as hot as the deepest pits of Hell themselves. Gently fingering the back of this curving piece of cold steel, it feels not quite flat, but dull, not enough to cut through anything, not much of a threat. Yet, as you run your finger over the other side, you wince, suddenly jerking back as you look to your appendage. The razor sharp edge had succeeded in slicing open your flesh, as this weapon was made to do. You sigh, allowing your gaze to shift down the three foot, now vermillion-stained cold-as-death blade, soon coming to a strange circular object of excellent craftsmanship. Thinking back to research, you recall this as being called a 'tsuba'. This one seemed to have been crafted from gold, the decorative hand-guard having the quintessentially beautiful design of a tiger and dragon intertwining. A golden half-inch wide golden ring welded on top and bottom of the tsuba made sure the blade and hilt were both firmly attached. You take your eyes from this piece of art to gaze at now a foot long piece of oaken wood, carved into a just slightly curved 'hilt', or handle, smoothed nicely. Your sight gives you reason to believe that white cloth had been neatly wrapped around the hilt, before a wonderously woven ebony cloth, stitched with bright gold, ensnares the hold, leaving little diamond shapes to reveal the ivory color, it seeming almost a bit systematic. This cloth ties into a knot at the end, a golden 'knob' placed firmly on the butt of the hilt, so as to hold the cloth in place. As you back away from the work of art, this katana blade truly gives you reason to believe that the Japanese were quite the artists.

I'm in the middle of 'a place' now, and will probably finish over the weekend. ^^

 

Wow, impressive. I never was any good at visiualizing things in books (just not a reading person, though I do enjoy it from time to time) but I could realy see the blade. Sort of a dark description, but hey, it takes all kinds to make a planet.

By the way, you don't happen to own that do you...

 

Wow thats pretty good. very descriptive a lot of vivids.
i wish youluck on the rest unless if you already finished it.
i hope to see it.

 

That was awsome do you write like this often?

Any way I love your work so keep writing.

 

Nah, I wish. Collecting swords would be an interesting hobby, I really love how a lot of weapons look, just the design, mainly Oriental weapons, like katana, wakizashi, etc. And to keence; It depends on what I'm writing. This was a short thing, so I tried to put as much description and such into as I could. With longer things, the description tends to get bland. Here's the second assignment, to describe a place. I chose the basement room in the movie Fight Club. And just to let you know, the first part of the description "fried-chicken smell of sweat" was from the movie or book, one or the other, don't remember. Since I seem to have got some responses, I decided I'll post this up. Though, the character description I did for class came out really crappy, I did Deacon Frost from the Blade movie, so I may type up another one to replace that. As artemis pointed out, a lot of my descriptions are dark. S'the way I like it. ^_^ Anyways, here ya' are.

~~~
The poignant odor of that fried-chicken smell of sweat fills your nostrils as you walk down the stairs into a concrete basement-like room. Looking around, only a dim light emminating from a single lightbulb gives birth to any form of shielding against the darkness that seems to engulf this 'arena', creating a small circle of illuminessence. You look to vermilion stains that have splattered against the ground, both fresh and stale, from the last businessman, waiter, phone operator or... whoever... had their face bashed against the solid ground until they screamed for it to stop. This place was meant to give some sense of pseudo-relief, just to get your anger and frustration out, and escape teh hassles of everyday life by just... beating the crap out of someone. Sounds of rubber hitting concrete with a light slap echoes through the abyss of insanity's darkened soul as you walk, until your feet strike something soft. Your gaze shifts downwards, tilting your head curiously as you eye moist cardboard, soaked through with blood and sweat. Suddenly, you feel sick, as you note a broad 'O' shaped splatter of blood staining one piece of cardboard that seems to stick out, as if the gums and lips of the poor man were ripped apart with a beating that left the outline of his opened-wide mouth in crimson. Gradually, your head starts to swarm, as when you look up, you notice a tall man, standing under the center of the dim light, arms crossed. Bruises and cuts on his face are still fresh from his fight the week before, same applying for the group of men that encircle him, their shirts and shoes tossed aside as they crack their necks and knuckles. Glancing through, you see the waiter that served you your Caesar salad with Italian dressing last Tuesday at the resteraunt. A bank teller that deposited your check into your account for you catches your eye as well, along with that police officer that gave you a ticket for speeding three miles over the limit, just two days ago. Yet their jobs and what crimes they committed or prevented, whoever they pissed off or pleasured, whatever God gave them or denied them seemed to be all burned up in some exotic inferno created by the burning bodies of two men as they pummeled each other into submission, a rush of masochistic pain and adrenaline seeming to just make all the problems go away. Stenches of sweat and blood begins to give you a deep, ill-stricken feeling deep in your gut, covering your nose as you hurry to the exit. As you rush up the steps and out of the basement room of Lou's Tavern, you hear the man that stood in the center speak loud, clearly, to address the whole group of men, just waiting to drive their bared knuckles into the skin of the closest person.

"The first rule of Fight Club is... you do not talk about Fight Club..."
~~~~

Enjoy. Once again, sorry about the length issue. I'll write something else for tomorrow to post up.

 

wow! you describe it so vividly it's like watching tv, and actualy seeing it. Yet your discriptionis differnt, it gets into the mind of the character and makes you feel that you can actually smell and feel what he is.

I await your next paper in suspence.

(I sound like a fanatic!)

 

Well with our place description, that's sorta what we were supposed, just give a bit of telling how a person might react or feel, etc., when in such a place. I have nothing for now, hopefully over the weekend, but I just wanted to give that little bit of info. ^^ Also, this one I got a higher grade on in my class (the katana I got 48 points out of 50. This one was a perfect score. Yay, go me ^^)

 

Cool nothing like getting good grades and having fun all at once!