The sun’s ray’s play on my face – Creative Writing

The lies rays play on my face, I manage to open my eyes and pass the folk bathed in a puss of light, making the superannuated categorys white walls glow. among the walls, the windows with their mysterious sheen give the patina of age, reflecting the wholly hall. It has a rustic feel rough it with a few pieces of outdoor furniture made by a virtuoso(prenominal) craftsman many years ago. It is an old white house with a fierce roof and a king-size porch from where lashings of sunflowers in their vessels smile at the sun. aspect through the windows made utterly undoable with the glorious mornings sunlight.The garden seems heavenly, with its extraordinary act upon and vibrancy. The suns rays reflect of the flowing water of the catamenia alongside the river, almost painful to scent at if it werent for its rargon beauty. The aroma of flowers and dissimilar strange plants waft through the transport creating a summer feel. In the pied pots, geraniums enchant my sight w ith a large palette of colours, creating a peaceful feeling.The sun is up in the blue sky, birds are singing on the trees and the air is alter with the fragrance of the flowers. The little pathway prima(p) up to the house is very unusual with its meandering cobblestone abidanceation, its tiny introduction and the fences surrounding them. I glide my fingers all over the front of the door, feeling every beauteous texture and ripple of the mature oak.I return to the house deep into the evening. The sun finally let way for the daydream and in doing so has changed the sense of the house entirely. Its small gate and fences reassure me that it is the alike house yet so much seems altered in some way. The hopeful sparkling blue stream rails down the garden had become a dark mysterious crawling creature.The house is direct purple with moonlight tainting the elegant white that it previously was. The furnitures silhouettes show depraved figures watching over the garden. Furtherm ore, the sunflowers appear as scarecrows with their tall thin body and simple spanned leaves imitating the arms. The moonlight has jaded the houses rustic hoodwink and made it an object of unsettling nature.The garden has in like manner been distorted with its lack of colour and texture, everything obviously taking a troublesome form in its silhouette status. The once beatiful smeel of plants has now been frozen out by the gelidity of the air. The beams of sunlight have vanished, replaced with the dull combust of the moon catching everything in its arouse and not allowing even a ingredient of colour to reach my eye. The bees and the birds have left(a) and with that comes the sinister silence of the shadowy darkness. The murky snake that was the pathway curls and coils its way to the threshold where I had once stood, nonetheless the house seems unrecognisable without the colours, sounds and smells that once made it such a special place.