Creative Writing

Creative Writing Exercise: Imagery

The path, through the trees, was etched out of the cool, dark earth. Barely any sunlight shone through the dense leaves above. The air thickens the further you move into the forest. The aroma of autumn; clove, cinnamon, maple; embrace you like a warm blanket on a chilly October eve.

In the distance, glimpses of crimson and gold peak through the deep green of the surrounding pine. At first look, your breath is halted, as if you have encountered a ghost. But the sensation was not that of fear, but of pure amazement. For gazing upon the Harvest King’s castle, was something most never have the pleasure to experience.

The steps leading to the front entrance looked to be forged out of the richest timber of the land. Each step outlined with its own, distinct, foliage carvings. No barriers kept you in as you ascended, a softly babbling creek below offered welcoming relaxation, and the warm scent of spices increased.

The door, as big as twenty men, was made of the same rich, chocolate brown timber as the steps leading to it. In the center of the door was a carved out shape of a pumpkin, filled with a cloudy, burnt orange stained glass. A glittering, golden acorn was affixed as a handle to this massive entrance. Along its archway was similar autumn foliage that was carved into the entrance steps, except the arch was laced with gold and autumn colored gems; deep greens, oranges, and reds, which held added sparkle from two large torches mounted on either side of the door’s frame.

Along the veranda were scatter leaves which had fallen from the giant sugar maples erected on either side of the entrance. The leaves mimicked the candy colored gems and created a crimson sea atop the wooden floor.

As I stepped forward for a closer look down at the array of gourds that surrounded the doorstep, I felt a warm gust of air hit my face. I look up to see the second most amazing site of my journey; the Harvest King himself.

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