Weekly Response #2: Colour Coded (Due Friday, September 23)

This writing challenge is on creating atmosphere through descriptive language.

Write a descriptive paragraph that contains a colour in the first sentence. Use the “colour word” only once, but suggest the colour in as many ways as possible. You will have succeeded when your reader can obtain a strong visual from your paragraph. For example:

The world had turned grey. Nothing but mud and asphalt surrounded the unpainted house, little more than a box made of concrete blocks. Charlie, dressed in faded work pants, rubber boots, and a thick wool sweater, steadied himself with a hand on the top rail of a weathered cedar fence. Behind him, nothing but ash-coloured sky, bare trees, and plumes of smoke belching from the factory in the distance. A lone sparrow rested on a branch, one beady eye watching.

(idea borrowed from Pearl Luke)

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28 thoughts on “Weekly Response #2: Colour Coded (Due Friday, September 23)

  1. I started to lose my mind as soon as I saw the white interior of the room. It was everywhere, haunting me in ways that were subtle, yet effective. I saw it in his eyes as he locked me in, I saw it when I looked at the shirt he was wearing, I even saw it in his teeth when he flashed a smile at me through the barred door. I looked down. It covered the entire floor. Not even a speck of dirt was visible through the dazzling brightness. The walls were the same, competing with each other to see which one of them could blind me first. I shut my eyes and it was still there, forcing its way beneath my eyelids. I looked first at my pale skin, and then at my shirt, then my pants, and finally my shoes, trying to find some colour anywhere. It was useless. Then I saw the ivory bed, with its bleached sheets, and I knew that this colourless room would be the end of me.

  2. The sun beamed down on the farm giving everything a hazy, golden look. I walked around the farm to make sure everything was ready for our annual Fall Fun Fair tomorrow. I started at the entrance and walked in the way direction that the tours would be going in. The sunflowers that were our first attraction were the right were, towering over me in full bloom. They were beautiful but I stayed well away from the flower powder that had accumulated at the bottom. I had enough pollen during the spring and the summer. The next attraction was the vast corn maze that we had. The corn on the stalks were huge this year and our guests were always welcome to take some if they pleased. I continued along the path to our wheat field, the place to be if you wanted a beautiful photo shoot. It was a pretty big plot of land full of wheat ready to be harvested and Jack, our scarecrow, was in the middle of it all protecting our field. He was wearing Dad’s old shirt that had mustard all over it from last year’s barbecue party. I tied back my blonde hair as I walked toward the last attraction, our Honey tree. It wasn’t made of honey or anything but we called it that because it was where our bees lived. We had our beehive suits next to the tree in a small shed for going in and collecting the rich, delectable sweet. I lied down in our meadow, still dry from summer, a little ways away from the honey tree and watched the sky change colors as the sun began to set. Everything was in order and it looked like we would have another successful year at John Lemon Farms.

  3. I walked through the door, clutching paper that held the last words that my grandpa wrote; he only ever wrote in black ink. As I stepped inside I immediately started to regret even opening the door. I looked around at the illustrations on the walls. There were skulls with knives through them, and snakes with blood dripping from their fangs. A very realistic sketch of tiger looked as if it was going to lunge at me and I started to sweat. I felt a calloused hand on my bare arm; I yelped and turned around only to see a tall man, dressed in dark clothes. His head was shaved but he had a beard that was almost too big for his face. He had many piercings on his skin and a tattoo of an eel that started from his temple and ran down his neck.
    “Come with me, it’s time to get started.” His voice sent chills down my spine. He gestured to the chair in the corner of the room. I sat down and with a shaky hand, handed him the precious letter. He took it from me and began to copy down the words on the transfer paper. I closed my eyes then heard the pain filled moans of the people around me. It was all very frightening. The man asked where I wanted the words and all I could do was point to my inner arm. He nodded and began his work. I was terrified, the pain began to work its way to my very core. The excruciating sting of the words getting stabbed into my skin, and the pain of loosing a loved one. After it was all done I walked out of that place with the words “I will always love you”.

  4. As I walked down the path covered in pink petals from the cherry blossom trees, I looked out at the lake. It had a flesh colored reflection mixed with the glare of the sunset. Sparkling like a glass of fancy champagne. I kept walking and admired the trees on either side of the path. They all looked the same, like ballerina’s in a row making the same pose. There was a summer haze in the air with what seemed like small bits of crystal floating around. The path went all the way around the lake and it was surrounded by beautiful gerberas. Even the flamingos were peaceful After what seemed like a whole day of walking, I noticed something peculiar. No matter how long I walked this path, nothing changed. It was all the same, it was still. The flowers and the sky had all kept their pale rose colour and the trees had remained their light breeze. I started to run, seeing if anything would change but nothing did. Adrenaline began to rise in me and my face became blushed. I turned around to try to find just one thing that was different, but I failed. I stopped everything I was doing and thinking, to accept this naked truth. It was that moment that I realized I would be stuck in this pastel world forever.

  5. If you walk into my room all you see is blue. My desk is cluttered with sky like writing utensils, notebooks, and folders. My closet is flooded with ocean like clothes. My furniture specifically altered to a soothing complexion. My pictures are perfectly placed with a peaceful paint on them. The lights hung around my room radiate with a sic-fi like glow. Everything fits in my room, except for the stupid pumpkin hued feline that sits right in the middle of it.

  6. There’s purple in everything that I touch. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and a face that I do not recognize as my own stares back at me. My right eye is covered in a dark purple bruise, one that I must now cover. As I work to cover the bruise, methodically mixing concealer and foundation, I realize he must have turned the heat off. My fair skin has turned a splotchy plum colour, making his dark purple hand-prints look like tiger-stripes lining my wrist. He’ll be home soon and I have no idea how I’ll face him. It occurs to me that I could run away, but where would I go? I walk calmly to my room and cover myself with my favourite childhood blanket, the one my mother made for me with the lavender stars. I stare down at my hands, the palms now a deep purple, and curl them up into fists before throwing the lavender blanket off me. I rush to get my wine coloured suitcase, the one that was a wedding present from my strange aunt, before filling it as fast as I can. The lavender blanket rests on the top of the suitcase before I zip it shut. I take my house key and the spare money that is kept in a jar before shoving them both in my jacket pocket; the mauve one that I bought last year. I walk to the door, wine-coloured suitcase in hand, before the door opens and a familiar voice growls, “What do you think that you’re doing?”

  7. I was laying in bed, when it all went black. It was like as dark shadow fall over me. Falling into a dark rabbit hole, as Alice did, went she went to wonderland. But this was no wonderland. There was something here, with me, in the dark. It has stolen my site. Speeding past me, creating a cold breeze that blow up my back. I was alone for all I knew, but not at the same time. Like something was playing with my mind. As I looked around in the dark abyss. Realizing, I knew what it was. In the dark, following me as a shadow. It finally came for me. And it was Death.

  8. I looked into her yellow eye staring back at me. She was beautiful with her buttery fur and her warm embrace. Her citrus tail rubbed against my leg. She was wrapped in my bumble bee blanket. She reached for my bleach hair with her tiny paws. As she yanked at my hair, I swung my arm and knocked over my glass of lemonade on my side table. I looked at the vibrant citrus stain on my carpet and stared into her eyes, she put her head on my leg and purred. I could never stay mad at my baby kitten.

  9. Grey. I have always loved looking at it. I think what I like about it is how simple it makes everything. Even the most complex of things is simplified into shadows and lines and shades. The cracks in the smooth rocks. The clouds that rob the sky of all color. The waves that reflect the sky’s melancholy mood. When color is forgotten, different pieces of the world stick out in a strangely beautiful way. You notice the shape of the rain, the contrast of your pale hands against the ocean backdrop. At least that is what I have always told myself. I have learned to notice these things. I was born colorblind.

  10. I am submerged by mazarine blue. I am not breathing and swim like a wild fish into the deep sea. I have to leave this terrifying place and I swim up to the surface. I am depressed because I can not break the ice above me. I tried thousand of times, hopeless and forlorn surround me. I swim back to the deep to find others to help me. As I swim deeper, a deathly chill sweep over me. I sway my tail fin as frequent as I can to keep warm. I can only see things around me. There is a deafening explosive sound. I stop to swim deeper, there might have a tsunami. My sight become fuzzy and fuzzy. Until I lose my mind.

  11. I somehow fell into to this green land.It seems like an abandoned village from a long time ago. The vines climb up on the cracking stone wall, weave through the old windows and doors even cover the frames. It is a huge natural made carpet. The vines creep along the crumpling path and intersperse with those houses. I touch the leaves and a silky feeling linger around my fingers. When the wind blows, a bright and refreshing smell flow out from the tip of the leaf. Everything is so natural and lonely.

  12. I have been told that there is more than just black. The people, the animals, and the environment. They all express colours, but I will never understand. Everyone says these colors are so beautiful and so vibrant, but I disagree. Through my eyes things are always sad and gloomy. My house, the city, my country. Everyone just says my eyes are broken, but maybe it’s their eyes that just can’t see this world for what it really is.

  13. As I wandered through the white grassless meadow, a big snow like deer approached me. I stuck out my hand and it sniffed it, seeing who and what I was. After realising I was friendly, and came in peace, he let me pet him. As I placed my hand on his back, the cloud coloured flakes rose up from the disturbance that my hand has caused. I looked in it’s eyes. They twinkled like stars in the night sky. Then I woke up.

  14. I woke up and all around me was green. I tried to stand up but i just couldn’t move. It felt like there was little animals crawling around in my hair but I couldn’t reach up to get them out. A bird flew up to me and starting to peck me. The pecking started to hurt. Again I tried to move, but I was stiff. My body felt very sticky, like I was covered in sap. I sniffed around and all I could smell was bark. Vines were crawling all over me, leaves were falling from my hair. Then it hit me, an axe.

  15. I woke suddenly from my nightmare and all was red and black in the room. I closed my eyes in hope that it would disappear, but all that I could see was that unbearable void that brought my hammering heart up into my throat. From the face of that bloodcurdling swine with those dark voided eyes, those voices were screaming blood-thirsty cries. The cries grew louder and more vigorous by the second, and as they roared, the sanguine-fluid covered swine advanced towards me. I opened my eyes once again and was met with darkness and dreadful crimson.

  16. In the end of December, the session finally start to change, everywhere fill with white, like a painter spill his pigment. The winter is quietly walk in without any message, every plant sleep in the cold weather, the snow like a blanket to cover on their body. Not many people on the street, some of people are holding the huge bag with tons of foods for their family pass this cold winter at home, they quickly walk into the warm car, and hope that they can faster to back to the warm and sweet home, it make the city become lonely and deserted. I walk out with a lucency umbrella, some children are wearing the brand new clothes and boots building the snowman beside the street. The smile on their face are pure and cheerful, suddenly I feel like I see the angle from the sky. I start to joining them. After I am tired, I laying on the grass with the snow on it. I hear the laugh from the kids, and the sound from the snow drop from the sky to the ground. This situation makes me feel relax, and the time seem to be stop. My mind take a picture and put in my deep memories, forever and ever…

  17. Prostitution.

    My eyes suddenly open, adjusting to the blaring red neon lights staring back at me. I look down, attached to my arm the belt I hold so dear to me. Dried blood gripping on to the little holes that appear like the solar system on my bare forearm. I can hear the blasting music from below abrasively filling the wintry, flaming, companionless room. I hear again those familiar baleful steps slowly approaching the tall crimson door that I fear so much. Each step perfectly synced with the pounding of my heart. I feel myself screaming from the inside out, calling out for something, yet like every time before, no pitiful sound will surface. I grip on to the barren mattress as the figure molds themselves on to me, a new desolate face every night, forcing me to speak words I cannot comprehend. I feel nothing, I see nothing. The mattress imprinted by my face, black stains and red lipstick cover the surface. I cry out in discomfort. The figure confused by love and lust, a nothingness to their demeanour. I feel the heavy heat lift off me and hear that tall, flaming door violently shut. I am left with nothing, each time, another piece of me lost. I grab the belt and hold myself tighter, feeling the sensual adrenaline rush through me, the insufficient drop of blood rolls down my arm, the only sense of comfort I know.

    • Maysa, this is written with such a grasp of the horror and pain of the situation you describe. It shows empathy and creates empathy in the reader. Thank you for writing.

  18. With a childlike laugh, she spun in a circle, arms wide and head thrown back. After spending so many weeks in the bustling city, the field that we had come across was a rare joy. Flowers that suggested a deeper, more vibrant lavender were to be found blooming far and wide across the field. Her blouse, resembling a shining amethyst, draped across her shoulders elegantly as her lilac-tipped hair brushed against her back. As I admired my companion from a respectful distance, I reached down into my tote and gently lifted a delicate glass bottle, preserved for dozens of years. Uncorking the top, I poured each of us a sample of the wine, relishing in the gentle washing sound that it made. In a practiced movement, I raised the grape-tinted flute to my mouth and tipped my head back ever-so-slightly. Smiling at the irony of an unpolished youth such as myself partaking in a cultural activity as refined as wine-tasting, I nearly missed the sensation of a drop slipping past the edges of my lips. I dabbed at the spot with a napkin that I had on hand, and looked down – only to be surprised with a shade much closer to ruby than my drink ever should have been. As my attention focused in on the stained napkin, my other senses dulled and slipped away from me. And with the last of my sensations fading, I looked at the smiling physical manifestation of my heart, and whispered her name.
    “Violet.”

  19. The bodies hang in the wind, yellow grass mixed into the background behind them. The sun is beating on their lifeless backs making the smell rise up in small clouds. My dress is filled with lemons and daffodils and I dance in a field of dandelions. Gold pieces lay in rotting chests on the grass and I can’t help but think of how useless it all is. Many men are hung for stealing this useless treasure. There is nothing around to buy, everything disappeared with the rest of the colour. I am here to guard these pieces of the past for hopefully one day things will return to the way they were. I must hide now for the birds are coming to feed.

  20. I wanted to visit the fascinating era of Industrial Revolution, but when I see the land covered in red all around me, I knew something went wrong with the time machine. The earth is littered with dead bodies, dressed in military uniforms that are saturated with blood and had lost their original colors . There is a soldier lying right beside my feet. His face is skeletal, which makes his wide-opened eyes even more conspicuous. Blood is gushing out from a small hole on his chest, incarnadines his gold badge on his uniform, his hand holding tightly to an archaic handgun, and the poppies blooming beautifully beside another soldier’s body…

  21. I wanted to visit the fascinating era of Industrial Revolution, but when I see the land covered in red all around me, I knew something went wrong with the time machine. The earth is littered with dead bodies, dressed in military uniforms that are saturated with blood and had lost their original colors . There is a soldier lying right beside my feet. His face is skeletal, which makes his wide-opened eyes even more conspicuous. Blood is gushing out from a small hole on his chest, incarnadines the gold badge on his uniform, his hand holding tightly to an archaic handgun, and the poppies blooming beautifully beside another soldier’s body…

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