A good Hibiki
Friday, September 4, 2009
Mizushima Hiro
I was thinking that this is what I want my beloved Tsuzuki to look like as a human... The face is perfect!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Place Writing Warm-Up: Countryside
The thrum of crickets' wings trilled across the backdrop of fabric-like hills. Each shadow and texture inlaid into the scenery was dramatic, lines clearly sketched out. Whispering blue grass hid small creatures from sight.
The narrow, scarlet face of a she-fox peered out from her den beneath a dip in the earth, sniffing cautiously. Then she trotted out, seemingly confident, her two exuberant, tumbling kits bobbing after her.
A hawk passed over the sun, casting a haunting shadow that still seemed in place over the acres of blue and red and yellow wildflowers. Mice froze for a moment, then skittered to a more secure shelter.
Horses watched from fenced in pastures, shaking their manes and whinnying, before kicking up their heels and galloping an adventurous romp around the length of twisted wire, yearning for the boundary-less freedom that glowed from the wild things.
The sky was a painted sapphire, the sun a saucer of liquid sunflower. A single platinum cloud floated drowsily across the horizon, contradicting the hurry of the land animals with a carefree, drowsy meander across the sky.
Horsetail and foxglove, mint and nettles all turned their emerald noses to the sky, and the world let out a contented sigh, a breeze tousling the golden hair of the hills.
The narrow, scarlet face of a she-fox peered out from her den beneath a dip in the earth, sniffing cautiously. Then she trotted out, seemingly confident, her two exuberant, tumbling kits bobbing after her.
A hawk passed over the sun, casting a haunting shadow that still seemed in place over the acres of blue and red and yellow wildflowers. Mice froze for a moment, then skittered to a more secure shelter.
Horses watched from fenced in pastures, shaking their manes and whinnying, before kicking up their heels and galloping an adventurous romp around the length of twisted wire, yearning for the boundary-less freedom that glowed from the wild things.
The sky was a painted sapphire, the sun a saucer of liquid sunflower. A single platinum cloud floated drowsily across the horizon, contradicting the hurry of the land animals with a carefree, drowsy meander across the sky.
Horsetail and foxglove, mint and nettles all turned their emerald noses to the sky, and the world let out a contented sigh, a breeze tousling the golden hair of the hills.
Movement Writing
* This was a warm up for my Creative Writing class. We had to get movement in our writing.
She tore at the roots of the weeds, tossing them violently over her shoulder to lay in a crumpled trodden heap around the outside layer of herbs and flowers. A trail of wilting thistles crept after, plotting revenge in their wilted plant minds.
Her thin body seemed somehow strong as she traveled across the yard, ripping the intruders in her garden from their life source. Her expression was set, a determined glint making her bright green eyes shine. This was something she loved to do, no matter the dirt.
Fearlessly, she pulled up worms, relocating them to different plants, and stepped around the piles of fuming ants that skittered left and right, jaws thirsting for a victim to sink into.
Busily, she dug a row in the earthy bed, and dropped in tiny seeds, pushing the dirt over them and patting them down like a loving mother. Her little fingers left hand prints across the soil.
She tore at the roots of the weeds, tossing them violently over her shoulder to lay in a crumpled trodden heap around the outside layer of herbs and flowers. A trail of wilting thistles crept after, plotting revenge in their wilted plant minds.
Her thin body seemed somehow strong as she traveled across the yard, ripping the intruders in her garden from their life source. Her expression was set, a determined glint making her bright green eyes shine. This was something she loved to do, no matter the dirt.
Fearlessly, she pulled up worms, relocating them to different plants, and stepped around the piles of fuming ants that skittered left and right, jaws thirsting for a victim to sink into.
Busily, she dug a row in the earthy bed, and dropped in tiny seeds, pushing the dirt over them and patting them down like a loving mother. Her little fingers left hand prints across the soil.
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