ouch, it still hurts whenever you mention it to me.
T1W7
Concoct, manifold, evaluate, consummate, murky
Thunder crackled and lightning flashed on the dark blanket of night as the girl wandered long the murky corridors of the castle. She stiffened as a jolt of electricity pierced the clouded sky, squeaking in fear and covering her ears as the lightning’s accomplice – thunder – soon followed after. Clad in only a thin, cotton nightgown with frills at its edges. She rubbed her smallish hands together, feeling a tad cold despite wearing a long-sleeved outfit.
Rain pattered faintly onto the walls of the structure, punishing the glass panes located around the vicinity. The young child felt taken aback at her decision to leave her bed so early in the morning, but the aroma of freshly toasted bread broke her free of the restraints of fear that had bound her to her bed. The little girl obediently followed the heavenly scent that wafted in the castle grounds; even the smell of rain could not suppress the fresh balm of that morning’s breakfast.
Down and down she journeyed, past many doors and even more corridors, the child finally found herself in front of the kitchen door. She opened the door with only a crack, peeking one gray eye into the brightly lit room, instantly overcome by the odor that engulfed her.
Chicken soup, toasted bread, boiled eggs and plenty of other magnificent concoctions could be smelt.
She surveyed the inside of the kitchen, spotting a manifold of ingredients placed neatly onto the long table situated in the middle of the room. The sheer amount of food overwhelmed her, but then again, the kitchen staff had to feed a whole castle full of people, after all.
The head-honcho marched to and fro in the large cookery, wearing a plain, cascade-painted dress and an apron.
She huffed haughtily around, taking sips from the soups and tasting the food, evaluating their degree of perfection, praising some sweetly while hollering at another.
“In my kitchen, I expect everyone of you maggots to consummate your dishes. Perfection is but the only thing we will serve our masters with!”she spoke sharply and loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“You there!”she swiftly turned around and pointed to the girl positioned her door.
“- Grab an apron and help us, why don’t cha’?”she ordered more so than suggested.
The girl could not help but agree to her request, entering the room as quietly as she could, grabbing an apron off its clothes hook and tied it around herself. Receiving a nod of approval from the lady.
2 comments:
Continue on writing long entries like this and you will soon be on the way to publishing your own book.
Keep it up!
"Chicken soup, toasted bread, boiled eggs and plenty of other magnificent concoctions could be smelt."
Writers often use the active voice for stories. The sentence above is in passive voice. Do you think it may work better in active voice?
Post a Comment