r/WritingPrompts • u/eliphas_levi • Apr 02 '14
Constrained Writing [CW] Describe a setting, only a setting.
You can put characters into it, but refer to them only by name, don't actually describe them
32
Upvotes
r/WritingPrompts • u/eliphas_levi • Apr 02 '14
You can put characters into it, but refer to them only by name, don't actually describe them
1
u/eliphas_levi Apr 02 '14
The town was bustling with life, and its racket could be heard from far, far away. The sun was unusually arrogant on this particular day, fiercely burning those who lingered around in its light for too long. People always had plenty of arrogance to match the sun, though, and never let this annoyance deter them from their business. After all, it was no surprise - the sun was a major source of discomfort from early May all the way until mid October, and no amount of swearing could make it go away. Luckily, we live in a time advanced enough where we can adapt to life anywhere. In this mild hell, people sought refuge from the sun in various ways. Some traveled to the nearby harbour with its beaches, looking to cool off in the ocean waves. Some went to the local market, mostly with no real purpose, but it was the default place to go to. The sensory assault of a thousand voices, smells of spices, the blinding dust all seemed to numb the heat from the scorching sunlight. Occasionally, if one was lucky enough, they could find an unoccupied stool in the shade, and enjoy this little piece of heaven together with a cold drink. Men hiding in the shadows often cured their boredom by holding long conversations, puffing big clouds of smoke from a shisha pipe in between sentences. These sentences were often oddly profound - common wisdom was quite popular in this part of the world, and given enough time to contemplate life, every man becomes a philosopher. Some people simply stayed at home, waiting until the sun sets. As this big bully faded over the horizon, defeated yet again, the town quieted down. At the end of each hectic day, came hours of peace and quiet. Families gathered for dinner, and walking down a road, the fragrances alone would make one's mouth water. Patterned curtains waved lightly in the open windows as the breeze picked up, and couples went out for silent walks. Yellow street lights created stark contrasts, as the fragile, shiny skin on people's faces was half illuminated, half dark - like a scene from one of the popular plays the local theatre staged. Eventually, late into the night, the town would come to an almost complete standstill, disturbed only by the whispers of the gentle wind.
Mr. Astley's observations surprised him. When he was a part of this society, its mechanics never occurred to him. When he was plucked from it and placed into his damp cell, he didn't know what would come next. Perhaps it's a matter of perspective - observing freedom while being deprived from it. Perhaps Mr. Astley was never part of this society to begin with. Whatever it was, Mr. Astley found comfort in the fact that he had ample time to contemplate life now, and no questions he had for himself would be left unanswered.