Monday, January 21, 2013

Excerpt from something i'm writing.

In this winter wonderland, the ice neither sparkles nor shines, because the name “wonderland” would be too nice a word to describe the situation. The unrelenting ice overpowers everything, covering even the slightest patch with its frosty glaze. The once carefree swing has been made unmovable by the overbearing power of the ice which has locked it to the ground. The ice is like a timekeeper, freezing everything in its path, unable to proceed, while also slowing down the process of aging. The swing, trapped in such a state, can no longer sway freely with the wind, yet it stands motionless, waiting. Taking away a swings freedom of motion, is like taking away the ability to breathe from the living, as the inability to move defeats the sole purpose of its existence.
The ice forms intricate and interesting patterns on the beams of wood, as if mocking the swing, flaunting its natural charm and skill. The raw ice bites into the wood, laughing at the swings inability to defend itself from the consequences of winter. Stripped of its ability to retaliate it just silently waits for the passing of the winter months, waiting for the time where it may return to its former glory. 

-By Cindy

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