A Descriptive One-Shot

Here’s just a little one-shot I wrote, focusing intensely on description and less on story development.  I was hoping for a little emotion, and I think it should be read carefully.  Enjoy, and let me know if you liked it or not by commenting below.  Here it is:

The sun was rising over the horizon, staining the sky a rich orange color tinged on the edges with a faint red.  In the field below, the overgrown grass was rippling in the faint breeze.  If one looked closely, they could see that many of the stalks of stiff straw were broken, snapped by the careless feet of young children playing in the field.  But they didn’t mind.  In their state of half-sleep, preparing for winter, the life of the youngsters brought peace to their earthy hearts.  But now, the children were still safely tucked in their beds, jaws probably agape and little eyes closed in deep slumber.  How unaware they were of the beautiful scene just outside their window, if only they would sit up and peer past the curtains.  Up, down, up, down.  The grass bobbed in the wind, as if struggling to spring back up, only to be pushed back down.  A battle that would last until the wind grew bored and moved on to other places.  Even then, the grass would often be flattened to the ground in a permanent bow.  But no one noticed, except the father, who just shook his head, looking out over the field his children loved to play in, hiding in the tall grass.

“Time to cut the grass in the field.  It’s so flat now, the kids won’t be able to play in it anyway.”  Then, pulling his baseball cap farther over his head, he headed to the barn, where the mower sat temporarily dormant.  Then, with a few muttered words and a little tinkering, the motor spluttered to life.  Before the sun was low in the sky, all the once-tall grass lay sideways on the ground, split from their life source.  Before too long, the grass was completely dead, and their other halves stayed close to the ground for fear of meeting the same fate the rest of them had.  But the next year, after the snow fall, the grass shot back up, and the children were back out to play amongst the grass.

Yup, that was it.  Still not incredibly cheerful, I know, but maybe with an element of hope?  I was just going to have a scene describing a morning on a field, but, as often happens to writers, it evolved into something a little different by the end.



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