Write 100 words or so based on your field observations of a new place. Make the setting appear either extremely negative or very positive. For fun, you might try describing a dirty or disgusting setting as positively as possible or a clean and bright setting as negatively as possible.
Explore the possibilities! Add a polysyndeton if you can.
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Noted in the Setting:
The smell of old carpet, slightly mouldy.
The harsh lighting from flourescent light above.
The way the door half closed then restarted and banged when shut.
The way the elevator banged against the walls as it ascended.
How slowly it ascended!
The handwritten advice beside the buttons: “If the door won’t open press 3 and if not press the alarm button”
The door staying closed when we arrived on the third floor.
The open door button working, thankfully.
The empty spot where the official inspection sticker is supposed to be.
The elevator at a friend’s place in East Vancouver is a wonderful place. With its old carpets and slightly mouldy smells, it reminds me of the elevator at my first apartment. I love feeling nostalgic about an old elevator. And, besides, this elevator wasn’t even inspected, so it is even closer to the “authentic” experience of my younger days. The lighting, flourescent, is reassuringly harsh. This elevator even allows me to participate more in the ride by staying closed even as it has already arrived at its destination. Although another rider left helpful advice— “If the door won’t open press 3.”—I was more adventurous and pressed the “door open” button. It did! What an amazing experience!—117 words
When Don walked into a morgue on tiptoe, the door squeaked, and the room was like a den. Rows of the boxes on both sides and corpses were out to see. As he saw this, he felt his legs knocking together, and his teeth chattering.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" flashed the flashlight. Echoing, walking towards to him suspiously.
"Um, I’m the student of this department, and I forgot to get the. . ."
As he said this and he grabbed the nearest knife and stabbed.
"I’m sorry, I have no choice. I’m sorry. . ." He ran, leaving the guard on the ground.
-107 words.
It was a muggy warm afternoon and the bright sun was hard on my eyes. I walked passed this big tacky sidewalk sign in the shape of a penguin as I entered the tiny, glass walled, premises. I began to scan the pricy menu for something that would cost me an arm but not a leg. As I was waiting forever for my drink to be made, I noticed the room was painted in bright colors that again were hard on my eyes and the pictures on the wall of more tacky penguins in different scenarios; one was even riding a scooter, how bizarre! The ceiling’s drab white panels were a better fit in a hospital ward and the wood floor had this narrow row of unflattering blue tile running down the middle. I quickly paid my fortune, grabbed my drink and left this strange kind of hell, never to return again. – 152 words
It is finally a sunny day middle of the week and no doubt the better tennis courts are overcrowded. I have no choice but to play at that old tennis court before sunset. I have never played there before. When I see it, I realize why people would line up at the newer ones rather than play here. Firstly, the court has a big crack right across, and so much weed growing out of these cracks. Also, a huge slope starts from one end to the other. What can I say, let’s play! At that moment I did not know that there was still something unexpected later. At end of the game, I suddenly noticed there were so many scratches on my body which were all from the thick thorny weeds on the fence. They look nice there, but I feel awful here. I don’t know why these courts have not been maintained, but I do know I will never come back again for I may not leave in one piece.
It was 10 o’clock in the morning. The sunshine glared on the water, nearly blinding my eyes, but the salty chill still lingered in the air, through my coat to my spine. Through the fading mist, the water waves jauntily danced, inching up and down the watermark on the mossy banks. Rolling on ripples, our gondola glided into Grand Canal, heading to the unknown and even smaller rivers. Along with the winding water-path, there were buildings lined-up--either renovated or worn out—they looked extraordinary. I tried peek into each window of the buildings, but failed. For one moment, they appeared to me some unreal visions flashing behind the windows as if the legend was just fading out. For another moment, however, they were nothing but weather-beaten buildings.
Mackie Park, North Delta.
This place of family, fun and recreation feels like a ghost town, with a touch of yellow caution tape. The feeling of death still lingers in the air. I still feel the tears from just days ago. I can feel her spirit here. The ground is well groomed, freshly searched for evidence. Nature is sad, people are sad. Wind is blowing through the trees without any care, just carrying on with its everyday routine – trying to blow off some of the sadness in the air perhaps? We must not dwell, nor hate, nor fret, nor scare; but have the willingness and strength to carry on. None the less there’s a variety of moods being played out today; the children running around with nothing to fear, and the mothers staring them down with everything to fear. I don’t feel safe here. The bench I am sitting on is cracked with hatred, and bent with anger.
-154 Words
The room is dim with a strong mixed smell of cigarette and wine. A big flat TV is buzzing “zi zi zi..” with signal off. The only light flicks and looks like it will die off any time. One chair sadly leans on the left wall with its only left two legs and whoever’s black jacket left on its chair arms, and it looks like a seriously wounded old man. Along the corner, there is a coffee table. There are pizzas, and cakes, and cans, and bottles and messy on the top of the table. After I turn the TV off, a “drip, drip” sound is still on: a half empty bottle of wine laying on the TV stand is dripping down to the hard wood floor. I close my eyes for seconds and I walk out the party room--- I really need some cold fresh air to calm me down.
I couldn't see anything in the dark space, but a sharp image flashing and radiating from the front screen draw my wide eyes. The pirate shouted out with the familiar rough voice, "Are you ready kids? I can't hear you!" After a loud answer, he extend his arms popping up forward to almost catch me as he said, "Here we go!" I feel dizzy, like floating in a submarine, and then the salty cold water splashed on my face, and then myriads of rainbow bubbles blowing sunk me down into the sea. On the trip, I saw a lifebelt, corals, anemones, seaweed, sponges. Finally, felling down into a sweet and sour pineapple house, I sniffed a strong smell of delicious hamburgers and fresh cucumbers that stirred up my appetite. An adventure stared. All of the people surround me were as excited as me; we were pumping and screaming and shaking and shrilling and laughing. It was the first time I watch 4D movie, SpongeBob, in the Vancouver Aquarium this summer.
170 words
The television flickered as Diane walked in the door. Almost like a salutation from the technological age. Christian, her prince charming, was fixing the tv. She always suggested the television was seeing its last days. I was only a couple decades old. She gave Christian a hello kiss, and walked to the bedroom.
Her nose tingled. The stench of perfume other than hers lingered in the bedroom. She thought nothing of it. The bed sheets were messy, and Christian’s daytime clothes were laying on the floor, as if he was in a rush to take them off. She started to think something of it. Diane, being as nosy as she is, decided she wanted to look through Christians text messages. “Rose?” she wondered.
She read on.
“Where do you want to meet me?”
“Oh just at my place.” Christian replied.
“But what about Diane?”
“She doesn’t need to kn–“
Christian walked in the door and Diane quickly wedged the phone under some pillows which still had what she thinks were Roses head print indented in them. He sat down beside her. She shrugged and walked to the bathroom. Getting ready for bed, she felt
Christian’s presence enter the room, and his arms wrapped around her from behind. She forced her way out of his trap.
“What’s wrong?” Christian said.
“Oh, just a rough day at work.”
“Need someone to talk to, my sweets?”
“No.” Diane disappeared into the dark doorway.
Diane made it inched to the couch and fell to her knees. Slowly leaning back onto the nearest coffee table, she put both hands to her face and the tears came.
Christian turned on a light, and her dark figure in fetal position became visible.
“Seriously, love, what’s wrong?”
Diane looked up, “I want you to sleep out here tonight.”
Before Christian has a chance to say anything Diane was already slipping on her detective-like trench coat.
“I need to go for a walk.”
“Do you need comp…”
The loud slamming of cupboards and the jingling of keys cut him off. Diane reached for the door and three quarters of the way closed, Christian looked up to see her face poking through the crack.
Already in tears, she asked, “Who’s Rose?”
The door slammed shut.
-375 Words
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