Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Cathedral of Marble Strands :: Creative Writing Examples
Cathedral of Marble StrandsRichard Stewart point stretched discover on the collected stone. His handsome, youthful face was relaxed into a slight smile, eyes closed(a) lazily. Richards hand played unconsciously with his long black hair evasiveness on the reddish surface . . . Four slices of lemon . . . four cubes of sugar. . . and a straw, thought Richard, and pictured the glass in his mind. Without opening his eyes, he reached out and felt it in his hand. It was cool, and the drop permits that condensed from the morning mist made it slippery. He raised his head off the ground and brought the straw to his lips. He took a long, decelerate draft, letting the taste settle in. It was slightly too sour to be perfect, simply Richard didnt mind. One day he would discover the ultimate lemonade, but he was in no hurry. He lay there imbibition it for a long time. Lemonade doesnt have to run out in heaven.Richard lay on a narrow ledge about five ascorbic acid feet up the face of a fa lling off. Above him, just under the depleted hanging clouds, a pair of eagles circled, wings motionless. Beneath, a green vale lay shrouded in the morning becloud. The clouds concealed the sun and gave the valley the cool gray feel Richard wanted. Near the foot of the cliff, the valley was grassy, with an occasional chaparral clinging to the rocky soil here and there. Blue flowers growing in flimsy islands shone dimly where the easy wind blew away patches of fog. A wide pullulate slid from around the base of the cliff. It began somewhere in the mountains behind Richard and disappeared in the denser fog at the deeper part of the valley. There, where not even the tops of the trees were visible, an airy construction of white marble stretched its spires almost as high as the cliff Richard lay on. Four great arches rose, flanked a spiderweb of smaller ones, and met in a cluster of domes, towers and spires. Richard liked to call it the Cathedral. Beyond, the valley lost itself wher e the whiteness of the thumb met the fog on the ground. Richard stretched the hand that held the glass of lemonade over the edge and let it slip away. He listened for its fall, but it went too far down to hear. He relaxed his mind, waiting for some idea to come to him.
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