Account: WordNerd100

I urge the Wattpad community- ergo, you, the readers- to join me in my descriptive challenge for the writers among you looking for some inspiration or time passers. Below I have attached various images that I will describe and possibly add a scene or small plot to as a prompt/contribution to this challenge. You can add yours in the comments or send them to me and I will publish the best ones in the following chapter. For those out there with cases of writer's block, it's time to shine again! Welcome to The Descriptive Challenge!

*Ongoing Challenge* *Shout outs awarded*

Picture No.1

The archaic building enveloped me in a sense of ostentatious tranquility. From the floor to the ceiling, the maelstrom of books and colour whispered sweet lullabies of adventurous freedom. My eyes traced the golden, iridescent curlicues circling the space with timeless awe, all making me feel a sense of edging nihilism- yet in a perfectly wonderful manner.

The maps above stretched so far that, in order to see them, my neck craned, spinning on the tip of my extended spine to allow inspired, sparkling eyes to behold the magnificent place. In an ephemeral moment I found my feet leading me to the books, beautifully bound in ancient leather... yet when my hands lavished the soft, cool pages, there was no inscription- only a vacuity of paper.

Picture No. 2

Bales of hay lay- like forgotten carcasses- on a golden, stubbled field. The blue sky shone vibrantly, birds scraping an infinity of colour with soft, caressing wings.

A mild breeze swept through the air, offering little relief to those working implacably across the countryside. They bore no names, only titles- titles without relevance and bare of respect. They lived life, only through breath- breath without happiness and without fulfilment... they found themselves bound in a sentence for which they had not committed the corresponding crime.

White, shocked eyes peered out of black complexions through the blazing heat as the familiar tread of a common tyrant sounded, crunching against the field.

'Get back to work!' A raspy, vicious voice cut through the crowd of slaves. The man's eyes glistened with ire, so meaninglessly enraged that his face became an unavoidable object of conjecture in its madness.

A crack echoed through the air and a smooth, viper-like whip ascended, slicing through the brightness of the sun as a crow landed smoothly on the ground, the only noise in the silence.

Picture No. 3

Heat roared in every crevice of the city as the fire pursued the houses, relishing the excitement of every snap of tender wood as it thundered by.

People were hollowing in the streets, searching for any other time than their present. If it were not for the tragedy, it might be considered a great sight- entertainment, even. The flames stretched so high that the sparks looked nothing less than stars, yet for all the smoke in the air not even the moon could be seen.

'Help me!' A woman cried through a smouldering house. Her eyes glistened with the reflection of a grotesque death and as she wept, a hand reached for her through the room- the bitter hand of fire- and she was gone.

Picture No. 4

The red breast swept with impetuous grace across the winter morning scene. Frost coated the floors, crystals in a criminal heist. Beyond, the scene was a splendorous palette of natural pastel colours enhanced by brittle twigs that dripped with rounded, red berries- almost juicy enough to taste, but sharp as the bitterest poison.

The robin's jet black eyes consumed their surroundings below, lingering on the crimson patches  in the snowy grass- seemingly abandoned by a limp body.

Soon distant sirens were heard, wailing in distress, yet when the crime scene was discovered there was but a single red feather, fluttering in the coat pocket along the wind.