Against the velvet sky By: Avy Doolittle and Kimber Grant
Time seemed to stand still. The air around us seemed quiet. Too quiet(29). I was in Mr.Duncan’s science class, the class where time always stood still. He was standing in front of the class giving us all a lecture on respect when all of a sudden, he disappeared. Poof-gone(15). He literally vanished right in front of our eyes. All of us just looked at each other, wondering if this was some kind of a trick. A few of my friends and I, rushed to the door of the classroom and peered out. There were kids all around in sheer panic. The same thing had happened in their classrooms. We tried to call our parents but no one would answer.Then, the chaos began. Kids screamed, others ran, some found their friends and left the building,but as for me I had only one thought on my mind. I needed to know if my sisters were safe.
I left the school after a while because there
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Everything seemed to be going as normal. But then,all of a sudden there was crash of thunder and the skies became a dark velvet black. We all rushed outside and looked to the sky. It didn’t look or feel as though would be the storm that would ruin us, but then again it didn’t really look like anything we’d ever seen.
The air around us grew thick and almost stood completely still. The sky seemed to be angry, a stone cold face seeming to seek revenge on the world. It’s deep rich black color occasionally broken by bright flashes of white lightning. The world was quiet as though everyone was waiting on the sky to make the first move. Lainey, Lila and I stood outside of our house and stared out into the complete darkness that surrounded us. The storm had blocked out our one source of light and the town looked almost ghostly against the black sky. We stood in silence for hours, just waiting on the sky. Then, the rain
The author illustrates the “dim, rundown apartment complex,” she walks in, hand and hand with her girlfriend. Using the terms “dim,” and “rundown” portrays the apartment complex as an unsafe, unclean environment; such an environment augments the violence the author anticipates. Continuing to develop a perilous backdrop for the narrative, the author describes the night sky “as the perfect glow that surrounded [them] moments before faded into dark blues and blacks, silently watching.” Descriptions of the dark, watching sky expand upon the eerie setting of the apartment complex by using personification to give the sky a looming, ominous quality. Such a foreboding sky, as well as the dingy apartment complex portrayed by the author, amplify the narrator’s fear of violence due to her sexuality and drive her terror throughout the climax of the
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
uses black mass of clouds as a figurative language to increase vitality and impact on the reader creating an atmosphere of uncertainty, sin, and manipulation “The blue sky was still visible, except directly overhead, where this black mass of cloud was sweeping swiftly northward. Aloft in the air, as if from the depths of the cloud came a confused and doubtful sound of voices”
Halfway up it was beginning to look doubtful, the wind was picking up and everyone was getting out rain gear to prepare for the storm. I voiced my doubts to Phil and he said we might as well keep going until the lighting got too close. So we did. The thunder grew in volume and the echoes magnified the noise to a dull roar sometimes. Then suddenly it began to ebb. The wind died down and lightening came less frequently. I exchanged relieved looks with Phil after a bit, but kept the pace up--I didn’t want to take chances. Eventually it hit us, but by then it was nothing more then a heavy rain. We kept moving, if slower, and made it over the ridge with no other problems. That night I enjoyed the meal a little more and slept a little deeper realizing how much is important that easily goes unnoticed until something threatens to take it away.
The drops of water tickled my nose for the first time as the golden sun threatened to tear into the gloomy, pillow-like clouds. Why would the government keep us from this? The weather control prevented rain, snow, or any weather without fail for one hundred years. For some reason, the rain help me feel at peace. I marched downstairs and out the door in my government issued night clothes toward my best friend, Wren’s, house. On the way there I heard a muffled cry near the bushes, behind her house. The leaves cracked and rattled as Wren threw a ball of paper at me.
We continued down the infinitely long interstate towards our destination. Thunder clouds continued to rumble in, like an ocean tide rolling closer and closer to the beach front. Within minutes the entire landscape was calm and dark. It looked like a total eclipse of the sun, and the once ...
It was a dark, cold, cloudy day. The clouds covered the sky like a big black sheet, nothing to be seen except darkness that seemed to go on forever. This was the third day in a row that there had been complete darkness, there was no getting rid of it. This was because of ‘the meteorite.’
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
Imagine a beautiful evening in Moore, a suburb lying on the outskirts of Oklahoma City. Mom is in the kitchen and the kids are playing in the yard. In a matter of minutes, the sky turns green and large cumulonimbus clouds start to churn. A crackle of thunder sends a chill up your spine, followed by a strong odor of ozone that fills the air as Mother Nature’s fireworks illuminate the dark sky. Large golf ball-sized hail stings your window and a melody of car alarms play in the streets.
It was warm that day, but as the sun began to set it began to cool off. This led to a storm coming right at us. From our perspective, we were able to watch the storm form and start to come over us. It was amazing to have the colors of the sunset mixed with the clouds forming across the sky. Eventually, the storm reached us. We could see the rain starting to come down, soon reaching the edge of the lake. As it worked its way across the water, it looked as if a wall was coming at you finally just soaking you with the full force of the rain storm. There was another storm that occurred on the same trip, but this one came out of no where. We were outside in an open area playing badminton in our swim trunks. Then all of a sudden it started raining, but we continued playing anyway. Soon though, it started to hail, starting with just tiny pebbles eventually getting to be marble sized at its largest. This was by no means a dangerous hail storm, but it made me think about the formation of hail. This hail, started in the clouds as a water drop, then began to circulate through the cloud. Eventually it reached a specific size where the cloud could no longer hold onto it and it fell all the way down to the earth plopping down harmlessly on the ground. It truly is amazing how all these things happen
Suddenly, I snapped awake. It really was the day of my party, and it really was pouring down rain outside. I trudged out of my room and had breakfast, all the while staring gloomily at the storm raging outside.