Here's a game to test your writing abilities, hopefully we can learn to be more eloquent in our writing!
Simple rules, a few pictures will be posted (no humans/faces) and you must select one of the picture as an inspiration to write a paragraph or two (don't go crazy) about anything you like, but it must connect with something in the picture...the point is to draw in the audience and see what we can come up with using the same pics. Anyone who wants to join in has to give reps (not just likes) to the posts they like the most so that there's an incentive to participate and participants can give it to their all (reps from me as well inshallah). Make sure to clarify which picture you selected in your post. I will change the pictures regularly. If anyone wants to submit a pic as a suggestion, send it to me through PM and I'll take it into consideration.
Here's an example of what I mean
It was one of the coldest days of the year for two reasons. The first was that, well, it really was cold, but the second reason was because this was the first day of her first heart-break, and to her, that made the world seem colder than it ever was. She went to the park and checked the wooden bench which clearly looked damp from the melted snow. Lucky for her, it was dry to the touch and was in perfect view of the sun which was about to set at any moment. It was the perfect time of day—the time between late afternoon and early evening, when most people are rushing to get home from work, families are finishing their supper, and the next shift at the workplace was to begin, but she was away from the hustle and bustle of the town and nothing mattered except the glisten of the sun on the partially melted snow.
GET IT?
ok so here's the pics, choose one:
A)
B)
C)
----Added the images here in OP to make it easier to follow-------
D)
E)
F)
g)
h)
i)
j)
k)
L)
M)
N)
O)
P)
Q)
R)
S)
T)
U)
V)
W)
Last edited by *charisma*; 06-14-2016 at 08:11 PM.
My dear sweet, loving, sister herb, who is an amazing writer at least give us mere amateur writers a chance to create, perfect and post their stories!!!
Write more stories! Of every single picture! I have laid down the gauntlet...
I carry dreams with me. People everywhere put their the deepest wishes to the waves of the sea and I pick them up, then carry them to the bottom of the sea. Some dreams are too selfish, and they change there as rocks. Some, the most beautiful and pure which come from the pious heart settle to the mussels. They be there for years and slowly they will change as the most beautiful pearls. When someone's dream has grown in a bright pearl, I picked it by this long stick, lift up to the surface and place it on the sea foam. Waves carry it to the beach and this dream comes true.
Mashallah sis, you have a way with words Love it, I truly do!
format_quote Originally Posted by Arfa
O solo Traveller may your heart and soul be illuminated with the light of Deen and straight path of contentment and peace.
A young woman had came to meet hers grandmother. She was just got married and life didn´t go as she was planned. Hers grandmother asked her to come to the kitchen as she was going to start to bake.
- ...and I was thinking it´s easier but many times I lost my nervers. Tim doesn´t understand me neither listen to me. We just yell to each others almost every day. I am wondering why I married with him at all. We are like from two planets. Tell me grandma, what I should do? I am unhappy every day with him. He is kind yes but... it´s like something is missing.
Grandmother listened patiently and started to put sugar and butter to the bowl. She whipped incredients fast but carefully. Then she added flour and cocoa powder, without using any measuring cup as years had gave to her confidence and skills.
-...but of course I wanted to marry him. But why, grandma, everything looks now so different than the day we still just dating each others? How I can find the way to continue or should I just give up?
Grandmother put the cake to the oven and sat down.
- I can give you a recipe how everything in your life will goes well, she said and smiled. - It´s like making the chocolate cake. You have to be careful with those ingredients you add to your bowl. Don´t put anything what is rotten or doesn´t fit to it. No bitter words, they are those which spoil any cake. Be patient when you whip the dough. Don´t hurry, everything you add to your common dough must be added with patience. Give enough warmness to your cake. A lot of kisses and hugs, sweet like the chocolate chips. It takes time before your cake is ready - mutual trust can grows only in the mild temperatures. If you put your cake to the freezer, instead of the oven, it doesn´t cook at all. Same is with your marriage. Also, don´t turn the oven to too hot - it burns everything and nobody likes a burnt cake.
When you decorate your cake, be generous with the chocolate frosting. Sweet moments can´t never be too much in your life. And if some corners of the cake are burnt, don´t worry. A little mistakes just belong to the path called life. Don´t give up. Smile and try again. Years will make you an excellent baker and you both will enjoy your cakes.
Mrs Salma had been living in Luberon a small village in Provence ,France for two decades.It was a quiet village although it was small but it was the most beautiful place on earth,partly because of its appeal and partly because it had scenic beauty.It was a place worth seeing due to the character and naturalistic appeal of its inhabitants.A traditional barn was there which included horses too.Life was so serene calm and slow here.Mrs Salma and her family had been promoting tourism and sightseeing in their land for years.What tourists enjoyed particularly was the vibrant colours of nature and true spirit of owners.Truly a sight worth seeing and living for.
Gosh that was hard to read, some advice - two spaces after a full stop - and one after a comma... don't forget, paragraphs help to make reading easier to digest, it shouldn't be painful for the eyes to read, ok?
Well thankyou for the criticism I wasn't feeling truly inspired to write lengthier paragraphs.But I guess one para does justice if you have conveyed your message fully.Anyhow I have considered your appraisal.
It was never meant to be like this, she thought to herself as she clambered into a corner, leaning against the uneven bricked wall as her legs struggled to hold her weight any longer. Succumbing to gravity, she breathed out a huge sigh of relief, watching the vapours of her breath dissipate amongst the rain. Her vision tried to reach as far as it could above her, but no star could be seen as the perpetual night seemed to linger with her tiredness.
She was thankful she could finally close her eyes even for a few minutes. Those few minutes were glorious, her heart rate slowing down and her body temperature returning to normal. She felt the cold starting to set in as shivers ran down her spine and goosebumps presented themselves.
“Where am I?” she whispered as her eyes gradually refocused, not realising she was sitting in a pool of mud. The coolness of the water provided relief for the cuts and injuries on her hands. As she glanced down at her wretched state, her sight fixed upon her boots. They were no longer recognisable from the once bohemian inspired pair she bought at a market many years ago; now covered in dirt and rips which were providing a root for the water to seep in.
“Great, now I can't feel my feet.”
She wasn't afraid, only confused as to where she had ended up. Surrounded by a constant noise of bells, singing, rhythmic drumming and music, and explosions that shook her until she realised they were fireworks. A huge cluster of sparks covered the night sky, triggering adolescent memories of her and her brother chewing on toffee, huddled together under a blanket, gazing in amazement at the colours which filled the sky, in no knowledge of how drastically their lives would change.
In the distance she spotted some lanterns, swiftly moving back and forth like pendulums in harmony with the wind. She winced at her injured arm but continued to feel hypnotised by these beautiful balls of red.
As the adrenaline settled, loss suddenly overwhelmed her as she could no longer bear the thought of being without him... Too many reminders of him surrounded her as she lay there in this cold, dark, alley. Feeling completely wrecked and broken. She just couldn't run anymore.
Too much had happened too soon. She knew there was no safety for her anywhere, they will not stop until she was found. Her beloved brother, however, had always drilled it into her that no matter how heavily they will try and bring them down, their ultimate comfort is with the Creator of the Heavens and the Earth. She had always admired his undeniable will and struggle.
He embraced his death. She knew she couldn't give up now. He always believed in her strength and now it was time to honour him for the sake of their Lord.
Her thoughts became distracted by distant footsteps which were moving in a familiar pattern.
Clutching onto her sword like her lifeline, laughter filled the atmosphere amongst the distant celebrations. A smile appeared from beneath the blood and dirt on her face, her heart filled with satisfaction and tears streamed down her cheeks, comforted by the raindrops which were caressing her weary soul.
The footsteps again. Coming closer.
It's not so bad, she thought, it's really not so bad.
But I wasn't asking you to make a lengthier story, nope. What I did advise you was to space your post/story/writing appropriately - it's basic English. Not a writing class for you.
I'll show you what I mean. This is your last post I am quoting. I'm doing so to point out to you what you did wrong.
format_quote Originally Posted by Arfa
Well thankyou for the criticism I wasn't feeling truly inspired to write lengthier paragraphs.But I guess one para does justice if you have conveyed your message fully.Anyhow I have considered your appraisal.
Here is how it should look.
format_quote Originally Posted by Arfa
Well thank you for the criticism.
I wasn't feeling truly inspired to write lengthier paragraphs. But I guess one paragraph does justice if you have conveyed your message fully.
Anyhow I have considered your appraisal.
There you go, fixed. Consider my "appraisal" again.
Oh really sis herb??I was referring to end of alphabets therefore last technically.Hopefully and on. positive note I would recommend a poetry competition afterwards) Or mere poetry recitals of sharing most inspiring and note worthy poems that members would like to share im just dropping suggestions here
Philippe leaned in close and whispered into Jeanne Pierre's ear, "It is clear, to me, tomorrow is when they will start." Jeanne Pierre looked doubtful and brushed Philippe's hand away in annoyance, his friend was too pessimistic. "War doesn't owe itself to the position of moons, Philippe. Rather, it owes itself to the whimsical fancies of men." Philippe was about to reply back, but a movement in the bush halted him. A twig snapped, less than ten meters away and both heard it. "be quiet" Philippe nudged. Jeanne Pierre knew better than to object, their lives depended on it.
Alban crouched behind the tree, and kept still. He couldn't be sure who the two men were and wanted a closer look but feared he'd given his position away. The enemy camp was just over that hill the two men were facing, their shapes almost silhouetted against the new moon. He chanced a look and saw the men appearing to glance away from him, but they had turned around and he realised he could be spotted. Taking a quick glance at his surroundings, he thought it best to crouch low and slowly back away to the nearby bush, which was shrouded in shadows.
"Stay alert Philippe, friend or foe, we do not know as yet, but keep your gun at the ready."
"Yes, old friend..." then as an after thought "stay close behind me," and with that, he stepped in front of Jeanne Pierre. "Actually Philippe, the gun would do us no good, we're less than fifty yards from the enemy camp. If you fire the gun, you won't have time to reload before the enemy is upon us"
"What do I do then?" shrugged Philippe, a cautious yet fearless soul. "Trust in God",
trust in God... these words provided a comfort at first but the feeling of being watched was also quite present. "I'm trying but someone is watching us." he whispered back.
"and God, is watching us all" returned Jeanne Pierre. Philippe smiled, and holstered his gun. "Ok, stay here Jean Pierre, I'm going to the tree" and with that, he moved forward towards the tree where they both heard the twig snap. It was probably nothing, he thought, and starting praying aloud, loud enough for anyone within ear shot to hear him. "Our Father, who art in heaven, halo'd be thy name, til Kingdom come..." another twig snapped.
"...thy will be done, Oh Lord, it's only you Philippe," Albon stood up and stepped out of the dark shadows, "I thought it was enemy scouts" he cajoled.
"Albon?" asked Philippe, "yes - it's me." answered Albon. Feeling a breath of relief, Philippe turned to find Jean Pierre exactly as he had left him, almost ten meters away, the wind was picking up. "IT'S ONLY ALBON, JEANNE PIERRE" he shouted... then a horn was blown from the enemy camp and rustling could be heard. "Oh darnit, you alerted the enemy you idiot, RUNNNN"
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at least give us mere amateur writers a chance to create, perfect and post their stories!!!
Well thankyou for the criticism I wasn't feeling truly inspired to write lengthier paragraphs.But I guess one para does justice if you have conveyed your message fully.Anyhow I have considered your appraisal.
Oh really sis herb??I was referring to end of alphabets therefore last technically.Hopefully and on. positive note I would recommend a poetry competition afterwards
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