Snow freezes, seeping into your bones, swallowing sensation and suppressing your instinct to survive. It falls, silently, stifling sound, softening distance, an alluring blend of apathy and appeal. What becomes of the starry-eyed toddler when the playful snowman becomes a sentinel, when the dream becomes a nightmare?
I was reading a ‘how to write’ type book a while ago (I’m not 100% certain, but I think it was The Writing Book by Kate Grenville) which included practical exercises. One of the tasks was to choose a passage of writing that we loved and attempt to imitate the rhythm and calibre. The passage I attempted to emulate is quoted below. What do you think? Was I successful or did I dreadfully miss the mark?
Categories: Fiction Friday