I wrote this for English 101, as a narrative essay based on a painting that we could select out of 14. I chose this painting at the bottom of this post. Surprisingly, I was able to write in such quality, even if I had one hour before class to write the whole thing. I originally made this post to show the IRC people of my 'l33t' writing skills.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's a bit bulky with the paragraphs of text, as it was originally written in double space. Blame college formats.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I had awoken from a nightmare, a nightmare matched by the view outside my window. It was a gloomy portrait of the world, of which compared to the world of fears that existed within the innermost recesses of my dreams. Utmost dread had my body frozen in fear, entrapped by the weight of the covers of my Victorian bed, as if I was a coffin underneath the damp soil of the earthly plane. The clouds outside my windows shifted in disarray, in ignorance of the light the moon afforded my still bedroom, denying my heart of its calm presence. Lifting my body from the rigid frame of my bed ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ I tossed the covers to the side, as if they were chains thus unlocked. The eternal conflict of the clouds against the moon, along with the dread within my mind I experienced the fore night, would not prevent me from preparing myself for the day ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reflection of the mirror offered a glimmer of light, the small traces only allowed by the clouds for the mirror to obtain. She saw her figure in the mirror, one of a girl of twenty-one years of age, one who looked destitute, and with something missing, regardless of the opulent surroundings which the room displayed with grandeur. Her black hair was tightly woven above her shoulders, and her skin pale with the slight chill of the surroundings encircling her. Within the confines of the mansion, a shell of a place that once presented an aura of ambience and a flurry of activity, she stood still. Such promise of her residence was robbed by the reality of the day ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ war. As with many girls, they watched the men in their lives go into battle, to take down the scourge of the Axis. The effort of men, to defend their country and their loved ones was a noble one, but it came at a cost. The bombing of London, the flames and destruction of the grand city of old, could not compare to the forces ripping her apart. The fear was even greater, that he would not return.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her nightgown, a dress made of the finest silk in Persia, was all her body required as she left the darkness of her room behind her. What lay before her was a mansion of vast dimensions, the reward of being one of the privileged elite. Such affluence and prosperity were now covered with nothing more then the black and grey outlines of the shadows that enclosed them. Underneath a large painting of a man of ages past, she lit an oil lantern that was left upon a stand from the previous night. Grasping the aged brass handle of the lantern, she brought it down to her side, and continued down the carpeted hallway in a silent stride. The heat put off by the lantern brought a warm glow across her side, but thoughts of her memories didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t bring her mind to notice this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the end of the hallway, at the tips of her bare feet, a staircase went into the shadows of the floor below. A sun-hat of floral designs rested upon the rounded globe at the peak of the mahogany staircase post, and in an unexplainable impulse, she brought it lightly upon her head. Lantern in hand, she crept down the stairs as if she was in a funeral procession. Commonplace was such events in these times, as war simply is a portrait of ruin, and of death. Reaching the bottom of the glided stairs, at the corner of her eye, the light of a candle permeated the dull atmosphere. A darkened figure, not of the man she wished would be in the safety of her arms, away from the known insanity of war - but the one of a kind old butler who tended to her every whim and need, surfaced in front of her. ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅMiss Deliah,ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

Very well written piece Ziddy... well done! :thumbsup:

omg i totally didn't read that entire thing...lol

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

it seemed pretty good though...i just kind of scanned over it...pretty good from what i actually read.

Well...In referance to the picture it was a pretty good representation of what was there. Though it wasn't exactly exciting, its differcult to write a story based on a picture, because it creates a stop for your imagination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So while I didn't like the story at all(thought it was far to dramatic and explained). It was pretty well balanced because you had just enough flow to keep it going.

 

 

 

Sorry but if I had a choice I would probably not read it.

 

 

 

I can think of maybe a dozen ideas that might have been better(But its up to you really).

Pretty good and interesting :thumbsup: