Another writing exercise
So, this latest writing exercise kicked my ass. I had to rewrite it three times, and I still don't love it, but I am turning this thing in, come hell or high water. Or zombies.
Rules:
1. No sentence can be longer than 18 words. The shortest may be 1 word.
2. Words must be 2 syllables or less. Half of the words must be 1 syllable.
3. Each sentence must be at least 4 words shorter or longer than the sentence before it.
4. At least half of the sentences must end in a consonant sound.
We had to write about a season, and make it an inner monologue. I've NEVER done stream of consciousness (suck it, Faulkner), so this just turned into stuff I think about/experience in winter? Best I could come up with, sadly.
Winter
The air turns crisp and the days get short. The cold makes my hands ache, but then I’ve never really minded all that much. It’s better than having swollen fingers in the summer heat. At any rate, it’s easy to bundle up against the cold; can’t do that in the heat.
I think a lot at this time of year. About those who have gone. About those who are still here to spend Christmas and New Years with. About how grateful I am for all the time I’ve had and will have with loved ones. I savor the peace that these days bring.
The best things though, are felt through other senses (thinking can only take you so far). Cold snow. A scratchy wool coat; stinging pine needles as I hang baubles on the tree. Christmas cookies, roasting chestnuts, the sharp air before snow. Smiles, twinkling lights, red and green all around, people all bundled up against the weather. Songs of the season, no matter how the dial is turned.
I enjoy it while I can. It won’t be long before summer is back and it will be too hot to move.