Bloggymoms WW Prompt 10-24-11

This week we are writing about settings. My setting is taking a walk down my street.

“A Walk In the Neighborhood”

The day plays out the pretense of Spring. The sun, brightly boasting its power of warmth, demands I put on my sunglasses to soften the brightness. As I walk out the front door, I am greeted with the sounds of the neighborhood children laughing, shouting out to one another as birds compete to win the noise level contest. I drink in the wonderful contradiction of Spring temperatures with a background of Mother Nature’s canvass displaying Fall colors splashed on trees. I inhale the scent only she can create.

The neighborhood flirt, an elderly lady, decked out in her matching pink shorts and tank top, has a young man trapped by her barrage of questions. Their voices carry softly to my perked up ears, tuned in to their conversation. He answers politely, shifting from leg to leg, eager to be free from her probing questions and eyes. As I approach, she sets him free and walks my way. I barely get an acknowledgment as we pass each other. I chuckle softly, aware I am of the wrong sex and have nothing to offer her ego.

I continue on my journey, eyes on the sidewalk, taking in the scatterings of Fall. I see acorns scattered randomly and my thoughts shift to squirrels gathering and foraging for their winter’s feast. I’m careful not to step on the acorns, although the child in me delights at the idea of the crunchy sounds from the pressure of my shoe. Instead, I look for leaves, brown, crispy, shriveled up to kick and crunch.

My attention is drawn to the big red fire truck easing its way slowly towards the fire station. My mind rewinds to memories of stopping to watch in awe as the driver expertly backs in the massive truck; mere inches of space on each side, untouched, as he parks. No sooner has it groaned to a full stop, more than a handful of fire fighters, each dressed in matching pale pink shirts, spill out. In mere seconds, they seem to evaporate from the street as they disappear in unison inside the metal building.

I’m left with the sounds of cars passing me. Some cars play music so loud it makes my teeth vibrate. Other cars, just vibrate. Some leave the fumes of gas, which float through the air, into my nose.

I hear, from my right, the sultry voice of a male’s bass pitch as he sings about his woes of a long lost love drifting out of the brown house with open windows. My eyes casually scan the small squares of the screens but I can’t see the distinctive shape of the old man I know lives there. In my mind, I can see him peering out, invisible to me. I’m sure he sits with drink in hand. A burning cigarette in between his index and middle fingers, which bear the tattoos of nicotine.

I turn the corner, causing the music and the sounds of the street to fade away in the background. And as they fade, I know new characters will come to life in my stories yet unwritten.

Advertisements

2 Responses

  1. This is beautiful, Chelle. You've created a beautiful setting here, using all of my senses. Here is my one point of critique ( and only one because this is such a beatuiful piece!)–there are some places where you could done more showing rather than telling–such as the last line in the first paragraph. What exactly is that scent that mother nature creates? Is it woody, heady? etc. I enjoyed that walk down the street with you. Thank you for letting my visit!!

  2. Hi Steph!Thank you for the critique. You're right. I see where I could have showed more rather than tell. I think that is an area in my writing I need to work on and be more aware of how I tend to slide back to telling vs showing. Glad you enjoyed your visit. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: