This is an exert from a story I am writing called "A Metaphor". I will give it no explaination, but ask only what you think of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door opened to allow the hazy blue smoke out into the cold air. It spiraled away, dancing under the nicotine lamp lights, before finally drifting into the sky, to dissipate amongst the clouds. William pulled the door fully open, and glanced in tentatively, with the air of someone who wants to know whatÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s going on, but is unwilling to alert anyone to his presence. This he failed to achieve, as all eyes fell upon him with brief, searching glances. He noticed the occupants all seemed to be wearing what he imagined to be the traditional gear of a country gentleman ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ tweed jacket complete with school-masterly elbow patches, braces and white shirts, brown leather lace-ups and some even wore monocles. One stood up, rising in a cloud of billowing smoke, and strode over to him, as if to give him a more precise appraisal. He stopped a foot away before raising his hand, which William noticed to have a black-brown hue, and, placing the hand on WilliamÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s shoulder enquired ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅTo what do we owe the pleasure, old chap?ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

Ummm its different, and you left out Old Bean.

 

 

 

It was pretty good, and it seems like it will make a good story.