I'm here to present you with another writing challenge from my Creative Writing course. This one was really a joy for me, since it stirred up lots of good memories. Feel free to take on the challenge yourself, and post your response below. Enjoy!
Prompt #2: Describe a Place You Know
Using your five senses, describe a place you know well. It could be a place from your past (an old bedroom, a grandparent's house, a store) or somewhere you go regularly. Use the most colorful words possible to really give your readers a sense of the place. Avoid "to be" verbs, since those will sap the life out of your descriptive writing. And have fun with it!
My Response:
"The Art Room"
I
stepped into the art room for the last time. It was graduation day. As I peeked
around the corner of the open door and stepped inside, the smells of paint,
clay, and creativity greeted me like old friends. Through the hall to the left
was Mrs. Freeling's* office with its bar stool, ancient computer, and plethora of
coffee mugs. Past that, a wash room and also storage room for odds and ends of
craft supplies—buttons, feathers, tissue paper, matte board scraps—she never
threw anything away. Beyond that was the kiln, where my finger-pinched fairies
and plaster mold dishes had been fired between glazings.
But I
was interested in none of these. I turned from the compartments to my left and pressed
forward, past the cabinets and collages of student artwork, posters for art
colleges, and inspirational quotes. The main room spread out before me. Its
gray spackled linoleum floors displayed the stains of a thousand mottled gobs
of paint and smashed crayons, and the cinder block walls soared fifteen feet to
the tile ceiling, gleaming white with untainted possibility. The Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack
played softly in the background, imperceptible unless you actually wanted to
hear it. I slipped deeper into the room and ran my hand over the nicked and
dyed pine tables, thinking that I had sat in every seat over the past years,
since the third grade when the new wing had been added onto the school. To my
right was the front of the classroom. There sat Mrs. Freeling's massive metal desk,
littered with notes, scribblings, markers, and student artwork. There was the
whiteboard, where she’d drawn faces and diagrams for us to follow. Behind me
was the long counter, pockmarked by hot glue residue, which spanned almost the
entire length of the room, and its cabinets which held all of the acrylic
paints, brushes, and pallets. At either end of the counter, the two sinks where
we washed up before our next class. They were often clogged by overuse and
careless students.
My eyes
floated upwards to the kites hanging from the ceiling. In one corner hung a TV
monitor, collecting dust. The fluorescent ceiling lights and the track lights in
the room were all off, but four ten-foot-tall windows at the far end of the
room lit the space well enough. It was a sunny day, and the light dripped
through the blinds onto the table closest to the windows where I usually
worked. I preferred the soft glow of natural light, rather than the blinding
fluorescent glare of the overhead lights. Turning away from the windows, I
closed my eyes, letting my back soak up the warm rays of the sun. I breathed in
deeply. I felt the open space around me and remembered the laughter echoing off
of the wide walls. I pictured my classmates sitting at the tables, doing more
talking than painting, and I heard the whirring of the pottery wheels once
more. I saw myself sketching out a self-portrait or a bowl of plastic fruit or
sculpting my latest masterpiece, too engrossed in my work to give the raucous
noise more than my peripheral attention.
Then
the bell rang. I opened my eyes. The room was empty, but my heart was full.
*name has been changed
What I thought of this prompt:
As I mentioned above, this was a chance to relive some very beautiful memories for me. I haven't visited my high school, much less its art room, in at least a year. However, while I was there, it was my favorite place to be in the whole school. My senior year, I spent six periods a week in that room. I was taking an independent study art class with two other classmates. All year, we worked on whatever projects we wanted to, and at the end of the year we each put on a one-man show, an event I had been looking forward to since I was in second grade. I'd love to go back and work in that room for just a few hours. Unless the new teacher has moved things around, which I've no doubt she has, I could still tell you where most of the art supplies are in that room. I hope the space continues to bring joy to the creative minds of my alma mater for years to come.
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