Create Powerful Imagery in Your Writing

We’ve heard the old montage “Show, don’t tell” so many times that it’s become stale–and what does it mean, anyway? It’s an easy phrase to utter, but how do you achieve resonant, meaningful description that will make your words come alive? This simple checklist, from The Writer’s Little Helper by James V. Smith, Jr., is a concise list of best practices for creating rich imagery that will have your readers clamoring for more.

  • Paint the image in small bites. Never stop your story to describe. Keep it going, incorporating vivid images, enlarging the action, and putting the dialogue in context.

A sponge carpet of pine needles covered the trail. It cushioned their soles and absorbed the sounds of their footsteps.
Rhonda stopped short and whispered, “Something’s coming. There. To the right. A bear?”

  • Incorporate images into action. Suppose I had written:

A million years of discarded pine needles lay on the forest floor, carpeting the trail.

That’s description. Static. The author’s talking. Can you hear him reading from an encyclopedia? The difference in the first version is tying their walking to soundless footsteps. This clears the way for Rhonda to hear and see.

She pointed at a looming hulk, for all the good that pointing would do in the ink of night.
Bill grasped her arm. “No. It couldn’t be.”
But the crashing of brush told them it could.
“Yes. Get up a tree.”

  • See through the character’s eyes. Hear through her ears. When you can, use the character’s senses instead of the author’s. It’s called character point of view.

She felt her pulse both in her throat and under the grip of that hand of his crushing her forearm. His breath. She heard it in short, chattering bursts. She smelled it, too. Fear stunk.

  • Use the tiny but telling detail.

She tore free of his grip and leaped off the trail. A spider’s web tugged at her face. Any other time she would have screamed. She ran into a tree, a rough pine bough slapped her breasts, and needles stabbed at her eyes. Any other time she would have cursed.

The spider’s web. Ever ran into one?

  • Choose action-bearing verbs. Cushioned, absorbed, stopped, whispered, pointed, grasped, tore, leaped, tugged, screamed, ran, slapped, stabbed, cursed. These words do so much more than say what is. They indicate first fear, then panic.
  • Choose action-bearing non-verbs. Looming is a verb form used as an adjective. Crashing is used as a noun.
  • Invent fresh viewpoints.

She climbed blindly. And so quickly. Like a ladder. That was scary. If she could scale this pine so easily, couldn’t the bear climb it, too?
She drove her head into a branch. But the sound of crying wasn’t hers.
“Help. It’s got me.”
Bill. Oh, God, Bill.
The bear had him. Still she climbed, seeing nothing but sparklers of pain in her head.
He shrieked at her from the dark below.
She did not—could not—respond.

This is the viewpoint of a woman in panic and pain. When she looks into the darkness, she sees only sparklers. Clearly, she’s so frightened, she’s only trying to save herself.

  • Create an image without saying so.

The pine limbs now bent like those of a Christmas tree. A fresh breeze chilled her skin.
“Bill,” she whispered. “Speak to me, for God’s sake, speak to me, Bill.”
But he did not. All she could hear was snorting and thrashing. She put a hand to her mouth. She thought she might scream but nothing came out of her mouth. Fear of attracting the bear kept her quiet. The pitch on her hand glued her lips shut.
And, yes, the shame. That silenced her, too.
The thin limbs bending and the fresh breeze tells us Rhonda has climbed high into the tree. The chill tells us she’s been sweating. And the pitch, though she and we didn’t notice it in the climbing, is there on her hands and face.

The Writer’s Little Helper is filled with dynamic fiction-writing advice. It’s packed with big ideas, time-saving tips, and revision-made-easy charts–everything you need to know in order to create memorable characters, maintain a compelling pace, craft believable dialogue, and much more!








Now let’s have some fun. In the comments, rewrite the following sentence into a more imagery-rich one using one or more the techniques described above.

The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively.

Rachel’s Pick of the Week

The Daily Writer: 366 Meditations to Cultivate a Productive and Meaningful Writing Life by Fred White

Everyone needs a dose of writing inspiration now and then, and this book contains an entire year’s worth: tidbits, excerpts, reflections, and advice to inspire the novice or seasoned writer. I love how each day’s entry comes with an exercise, so you can enhance your writing skills as you seek out inspiration.


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56 thoughts on “Create Powerful Imagery in Your Writing

  1. Learning2writehereyay

    Tess kept her eyes down and pulled her hood over her head. She had just turned down the road that the townspeople called Restaurant Road, or as the sign put it anyway.
    The tantalizing smell of food wafted down the sidewalk, making Tess’s stomach grumble loudly as if nails were tumbling around.
    She saw a small café, and immediately turned and opened the door. Stepping across the threshold, she pulled her hood off and took a deep breath. She smelled sandwiches, and tacos, both some of her favorite foods.
    Thankfully there weren’t many people at all, so they couldn’t see a dirty, grimy, traveler come through one of their oldest ‘best’ cafes’ in the area.
    She looked around as she slowly strolled up to the counter. Aside from some bookshelves, a couple two seated tables, and some corner booths, there wasn’t much else here. She did spot some old dusty grey computers lined up next to each other in a corner. She could use those to contact her friend- Ever.
    Aside from what little décor, there was a counter, some cashiers, and newly painted walls of pearly peach color. She could see the kitchen in the back, cooks working away to make ready for the festival coming to town. -As that was why Tess was here in the first place.
    Staring at the lit-up screen of the menu, Tess ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and threw a couple of crumpled dollars down to pay for the lunch. “I am also going to be using one of those,” Tess said, pointing a finger at the computers in the corner. “That’s an extra 50 cents, ma’am.” The cashier answered. “You will need to log into it.” The cashier slide over a laminated paper, with the login code, and Tess slid over a dark colored 50 cent.
    “Your sandwich will be out In a few minutes.”

    There ends what I think is my best attempt at Imagery so far. This is the best post I have ever seen right now, and I am going to print it out and keep it on the wall in front of my desk. (FYI, this short story is unedited.)

  2. Mizuwolf

    The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively.

    She lowered her weight experimentally onto the ancient, decaying floorboards. This would be very dangerous. Any sound at all could betray her to her captors. She silently winced as the rough wood let out a low groan. She paused and listened for any sign that she was heard before continuing on her way. The cold that leeched up into her bare feet caused her to shiver. Suddenly, she heard the floor give a sharp squeal and she knew immediately that she was caught. She dove for the door, but felt a hand grab tight to her wrist.

    “NO!” she screamed, but no one could save her from the monsters created by her own mind.

  3. sharifahizzah

    The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively. Darkness greeted her. There were no windows to be seen, no gaps in between the wooden boards that made up the cabin; light was not welcomed here. She could hear angry whispers echoing around the room.
    “Who is that?”
    “What is a human doing here?!”
    “She’s not one of us!”
    “Kill her!”
    She froze. The strong forces she felt here weren’t friendly at all – they wanted her dead. But she wasn’t about to give up so easily, she had to know what her mother was doing here days before she died.
    The chirping of crickets could be heard from the forest surrounding the old abandoned cabin as she took a deep breath and turned on her torchlight.

  4. Tylea

    The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively.

    High pitched squeaks echoed from the wooden floorboards as the young girl trudged throughout the house. The sound would have exposed her had she been in a crisis. Her feet, flat and bare, softly pressured the floor. Chills ran up her spine. Sweat gleamed her forehead. The young girl hastened her pace in agitation for what was soon to hit her. All she could think about was how he would react to the damage she had done. What if breaks down? What if he gives up? What if he partakes in another self-mutilating attempt?
    She ran her fingers through her hair as her eyes bulged wider. How will she live this down?

    Thank you for the tips! Considering how long it took me to write this and how it’s still laggy, I have so much to work on with my stories, haha.

  5. floridasunshiny

    Once pristine and smooth, the wooden floors now carried the stains of a battlefield. The heat from the radiator warmed the room, but Lisa shivered. Wide-eyed and cornered between the sofa and her husband, she whispered, “You will never hurt me again.”

  6. Tiptoe

    The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively.

    Her calloused feet absorbed the impact of worn wooden boards that creaked as she passed; back and forth, up and down. She twisted a hair strand behind her right ear, then her left. Around she went, her feet chilled and aching with the repetition of it.

  7. thewordsmith

    Frankly, I found the article tedious and with little merit.
    [“A million years of discarded pine needles lay on the forest floor, carpeting the trail.”]
    There is nothing wrong with this sentence. In just a few words, it immediately creates an image of a forest blanketed by a carpet of pine needles in various stages of disintegration. It is full of green and brown and the cool of the forest.
    By contrast,
    [“A sponge carpet of pine needles covered the trail. It cushioned their soles and absorbed the sounds of their footsteps..”]
    “A sponge carpet of pine needles…” It does not convey a ‘nice’ picture and it is almost uncomfortable to read. In fact, the whole phrase, overall, is not a comfortable read and feels a bit contrived and forced.

    As an example, on the spur of the moment, I wrote the following:
    A dense layer of pine needles carpeted the trail devouring the echo of footsteps and leaving nothing behind but the silence.
    Now, it is far from perfect but I believe it flows better. It creates a world of darkness, a silence so deep even the sound of one’s own footsteps is swallowed up by the forest. It is green and brown and soft and hard. Even word choices can contribute to the feel of the sentence.

    And it can be embracing and comforting or it can be dangerous and violent. Note the word “carpet” which suggests, not only something thick and dense, but something soft and warm and comfortable as well. But, it is paired with the word “devoured” which immediately lends a sense of foreboding and danger.

    Now, all writers love their own words. But I have learned to recognize the quality of writing and what I see here, some of the passages lean dangerously toward purple prose and simply too wordy. And that can be a real problem when you are trying to count words and save word space.

    I do apologize for coming off like a troll but… I just could not let this piece pass unchallenged.

  8. Dee

    The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively.

    Shivering, she placed her toes of her right foot on the ancient floorboards. A gasp escaped her tight lips when the boards creaked beneath her slight form. She added more weight until she put all her weight on her foot. As she lifted her left foot the floor moaned, she jumped, and then froze, holding her breath.

    Thanks, for a fun way to learn more about “Show, not tell.”

  9. American Dreams

    The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her cold, bare feet as she paced the room apprehensively.

    He clenched his fists at his side’s, clenching his teeth and curling his toes. He had been pacing the rooming, causing his legs to ache and his toes go numb from the cold of the wooden floor. Waiting, that’s what he had been doing. Waiting for her. He hadn’t seen her come in, but the creaking of the floor had betrayed her presence.

  10. Rachael Murray

    Excellent and enjoyable article! I gave the prompt a shot, which was a lot of fun!

    History spoke in breaths of dust and rotted wood, announcing the attic’s intruder as surely as a shout. But she did not intrude to prod or mettle, only to collect the thoughts that splintered as surely as the board beneath her exposed toes.

    “Why would–” and she stopped, speaking and creaking across the floor, while her head-attic brightened. “Of course. Of course she would.”

    The pacing resumed with tightened fists and quickened steps.

  11. QuilToKeyboard

    She was worried. She was always worried but this time it was different. As she usually did when worry became too intense, she found herself pacing a floor, ancient floorboards creaking beneath, distracting her as she paced. Gradually she became aware that her feet were cold. They always got cold when she was scared.

  12. Volatile

    I gave it a go:

    He stood up, dusting off the dirt from his shirt and jeans. Looking ahead he could see that the forest was denser than it appeared, no light penetrated the canopy, blocked out by the dead, twisted branches of the old oak trees. Perhaps this was why it was so colorless here, looking down he noticed the grass beneath his feet was dead, in fact it all was, nothing more than tufts of wilted, brown threads.

  13. mykejeffers

    Pacing the black darken room in an apprehensive panic her wide open eyes were shifting frantically trying to make out what was in the shadows not pierced by the window glow; the creaking ancient floorboards forced her to come to a halt for fear of giving away her presence.

  14. Nowun IP

    She paced the room with her fists clenched for several minutes. The old creaking floorboards were cold under her bare feet. Bill . . . She never found him. She didn’t really try. But what now? What would she tell the others?

  15. tuckery

    Her toes icy, her ears bright red, she quietly tiptoed towards the room. The dusty barren floorboards creaked with every movement she made, and sent splinters flying into her foot. She had to make it to the room though. She knew she could make it, unless she was caught again. Just the thought sent shivers up her back.”No, there’s no way. It’s gone. This is over.” she mumbled. Just as her hopes lifted, a piercing scream echoed through the empty house. A dark shadow emerged from the closet and hovered over her, lifted it’s head up to scream again. It came so fast, she didn’t have time to say anything as the shadow plunged into her. The deafening crack was the last thing she heard, as she fell into darkness.

    Thanks! It was good practice for my writing:)

  16. ronistone

    Her right foot felt small against the groaning pine planks all shot through with drying knots. Knots now hollowed out with age and splintered around the rims. Her left felt smaller yet as she placed it carefully in front of the right. She worried that they would grow too small if she walked further, so small that she would fall through the knotty holes. That she would disappear. Like Alice.

    1. tuckery

      She quietly tiptoed toward the room, while the musky floor beds creaked and groaned with her every step. Her toes were icy, her ears cold, and a shiver rolled up her back. “There’s no way. It’s gone, this is finally over.” she muttered, but she wasn’t temped to believe it. Suddenly, a piercing scram echoed through the entire house as a dark shadow emerged from the closet. She didn’t have any time, even to scream as the shadow plunged into her and the floor beds cracked, as she fell into darkness.

  17. Elmlick

    Each cold step brought another moan from the dust coated floorboard beneath her. Perhaps it wished to speak of all that it had witnessed, or to tell her she didn’t belong and should leave. Another moan rose as she stepped away from the door she’d been working her way towards. “No, no I can’t” she said softly. “I – I must wait. They’ll come. I know they’ll come – they promised. I have to wait.” Another moan, dust collecting between her clamy toes. Only the pale light of the far off moon revealed the shillouettes of the rooms contents. A bed, sunken to the floor where a leg once had been with sheets and pillows a mess and covered as much dust as the floor. She could see her lonley footprints disturbing the serenity of the dust, a poorly swept patch revealing faded oak like dry bones through frail skin. The thought peirced her and she abruptly began rubbing the chill from her arms. “They said they’d come back. I have to trust them.”

  18. patrick1139

    Thickened skin, pale and cold on the ball of her foot, touched down with agony as the floorboards pressed back against her hollow weight. Her muscles taught and nervous, propelled her as if walking high upon a wire. And in this too was a dangerous feat. For any sound may have traveled far and fast in the dark silence, and the walls at night seemed to her but paper.

  19. Allen-Michael

    She slowly crossed the room trying not wake her mother. She placed her foot down gingerly testing the floorboards. As she placed weight on her foot it started to squeak a little louder than it should have.

  20. MatthewTM

    She weaved a path like an insect seeking the crack in which it flew. Anxiety and the chill compelled her toward dusty corners and through the gaps between the furniture. A question from that evening consumed her: why tomorrow? Her preoccupation was interrupted by the groan of a floorboard as it sank beneath a pale foot. She froze. Lifting her heel first, she eased her weight from one side of her body to the other. The dry wood bent back into shape with a loud creak. Her breath tightened across her chest as she listened for a movement or a murmur – anything that might indicate the sound had penetrated the next room and woken him. He couldn’t find her like this. She returned to his bed and spent the rest of the night with her body rigid and her eyes wide open.

  21. Cardinal

    The creaks and croaks of the boards echoed her mumbling. And they would crick, crick, creak when she pressed down on the floor. On her toes, the planks would dip and dent under her weight. Stepping around the room was leaving little meteors for the ground to take for her troubles.
    She had that habit, you see. Some people bite nails or pull their hairs, but little Angelica would sway from the dresser to window and back to the bed. But she would always, always steer away from the vase on the ground. Her toes were comets and she, as a whole, was orbiting the vase like a planet, just as slowly and surely as a planet would. ‘Orbiting’ never means approaching the object, just circling it.
    And when she did, the trees outside shook as much as she did, maybe less. The ground outside and the floor inside were the same today – wet and cold. Angelica curled her toes in near the puddle by the plant.

  22. MicheleB

    The dried, time-worn floorboards groaned under her frail weight as she edged, shaking, towards the window and then back, her toes stabbed by the icy cold.

  23. S.E.Barry

    The floorboard bucks up under weighty gait. Not hers.
    “It’s him.”
    Her feet lose purchase in the scramble, red raw, splinter-laced, but all she can feel is the throbbing thaw bite. The door slams shut
    “Oh God no…..he’s in the lounge too….I’m trapped.”

    Dialogue is supposed to be italic and internal dialogue.


    She closed her eyes. The world was shaking. When she opened her eyes, her arms went numb and the world was falling. Then she hit the ground. Crucified by blood-soaked needles, she did not move. When the sun finally shined, it saw only a corpse of a woman and a trail of blood.

  25. sjay

    A hardening chill filled underneath her naked foot with each step she was taking. Her ears were perking up from the creaking sound she heard from the old cracks of the floorboard that cried out long held secrets in this 100 year old mansion. Her legs trembled and a jittery, sweaty palm held the lantern which provided the only light on this dark evening.

  26. JackStride

    Floorboards. Nothing ever felt so familiar as this old, worn wooden room. The fresh glow of dawn lighting an aura on her pale face, she did not feel the joy that had often come when staring at the early morning sky.

    If anything, she felt dread. The days were gone when she felt the warm embrace of someone close to her, and the time was over when she had someone at her side to help.

    Her short, ragged breath drew gasps of the faintly cold, crisp air. Death was like a lily, and there was nothing here for her. The nectar sweet she longed to drink; the fragile folds of the flickering flower beckoned her with more longing every day.

    For she was a dead woman, in a living body. A soul trapped in chains and cobwebs, wilting evermore.

    Her rough feet paced; she felt his warm arms, briefly, like a ghost, wrap around her. She turned apprehensively. Nothing. Nothing but the dust in the air. How bitter she felt, when all around her the world woke.

    When she heard the twittering of the birds she was reminded of a sweeter time; the croaking frogs the trumpet blare of heaven. She longed for it, and tasted it, but lo, she had not yet arrived, in the land where there is no shadow, and the lilies bloom forever.

  27. mcuellar1213

    Staggering across the floor, she could not tell if the creaking came from the decrepit floorboards or her withered joints. She just couldn’t sit still knowing It was coming for her.

  28. Kamryn

    The familiar, worn oak floorboards groaned beneath her small feet, drowning out the small rustling sound of the blanket being dragged along behind her. Her breath came in little sobs, and she pushed open the door to her parents’ room, plopping herself down on the carpet.

    The nightmares couldn’t get her here.

  29. william teague

    Sadie stabbed at the few remaining embers in the pot-belly stove then dropped the black iron poker to the floor. With a thud, it then rolled a quarter turn, like the second hand on a clock; away from her cold bare feet. The December chill now took over this humble ole house. Draped in a frayed quilt, her mangy dress peeked out anxiously as she paced back and forth; glancing out of the window on every pass. The warped floorboard’s croaked and whinnied beneath her heavy footsteps. “My Pa grew up ‘ere,” she grumbled – “I wer’d born ‘ere.” She took a long draw off her corn-cob pipe, opened the door and screamed out at the workmen in the bulldozer, “My great grand pappy built dis house”. The blasts in the distance rang in a new era for the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  30. FizzyL25

    She placed her freezing bare feet carefully onto the worn floorboards that squeaked and creaked under her weight. They would know she was here by now, she thought as she paced around the room, buried in her dark thoughts; her quick, short steps powered by fear, barely noticing the splinters inching their way into her feet.

  31. cathymcdowell

    Stepping into the old run down house, with broken and splintered floorboards cracking beneath her cold, calloused bare feet, she paced the room with a slight limp, inching carefully so not to fall.

    Looking to her left she noticed the window frames with shards of glass protruding from them.
    The broken staircase where underneath was hidden a dismantled old wooden rocking chair.

    Stepping ever so carefully away, the rocker began to move making the floorboards creek.
    Knowing it was the ghost of her mother, she was not afraid.

  32. cathymcdowell

    Stepping into the old run down house, with broken and splintered floorboards cracking beneath her cold, calloused bare feet, she paced the room with a slight limp, inching carefully so not to fall.

    Looking to her left she noticed the window frames with shards of glass protruding from them.
    The broken staircase where underneath was hidden a dismantled old wooden rocking chair.

    Stepping ever so carefully away, the rocker began to move making the floorboards creek.
    Knowing it was only the ghost of her mother, she was not afraid.

  33. spacedollirst

    This place smelled like dust and death, and the floorboards creaked more than they used to. She paced through the night, disgusted by the sights around her. The house she’d once called her home was now nothing but broken, wooden bones.

  34. TezfromOz

    She clasped her hands in front of her face as she walked to the window. She hesitated without looking out, then retraced her steps to the chair. She couldn’t sit. Back at the window she scanned the room but saw nothing. As she returned to the chair she didn’t hear the creaking of the ancient boards, nor feel the cold on her bare feet. She swivelled to start the sequence again.

  35. Peachy_Sweet

    Splinters on the soles of her feet nagged at her as she paced the cold and dusty wooden floor. She jumped at the sounds of groaning floorboards and her own battered breathing as she repeatedly thought, Where am I?

    Couldn’t use italics, so I just left the thought the way it is. I liked the little exercise! I really need all the help I can get! 🙂

  36. Geets

    She paced the room, apprehension thick in the air as if it had lain waiting, like the ancient floor boards.

    The squeak was soft, just barely audible, meant to be heard only by cold soles of the feet, and felt in the stealthy vibration.

  37. Huprich

    A splinter from the ancient wooden floor stabbed into her bare foot making her involuntarily cry out as she neared the broken window hoping the lightning flashes would illuminate the darkness enough for her to see if the man holding the long knife was still standing in the drving rain in front of the once-beautiful Victorian house.

  38. JessJo

    Even under light steps, the floorboards creaked, repeating a rhythm that matched her pacing. She focused on the chill on her heels and toes, and the scrape of another rough spot against the sole of her foot. Anything to keep her heart rate from ascending into the danger zone.

  39. lwillis1

    Warped floorboards, splintered and dirty, spoke of a different age. The cold seeped through the cracks and enveloped her feet like slippers of ice. “Where are they?” she whispered, as she strode from window to window. Her heart pulsed with the ghostly skreetching of the boards beneath her weight.

  40. Judith

    She cautiously placed first one bare foot and then the other on the plank floor grown rough with age; and, yes, there was the squeak and then another as she rose from the bed.

  41. KikiP

    Her lungs ached from lack of oxygen. Her mind raced along with her heart slamming against her rib cage. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. How the hell had her sister roped her into this fiasco. Never again, she promised herself. If I ever get out of this alive. Without moving her head her eyes scanned down the lifeless body laying next to her. He was breathing thank god, the rise and fall of his chest proved she hadn’t given him too much of the drug. Guilt racked her entire being. She had to get out of his bed. Slowly, with the movements of a sloth, she eased her way to the end of the bed. She was careful not to cause too much of a disturbance to the slumbering manwhore. Hopefully, he wouldn’t rouse for awhile. She needed to text Shana now. Where was her damn phone, her eyes glanced to the dresser across the room. Finding what she was looking for she eased her left foot down from the bed. When her foot came in contact with the distressed pine floor she bit back a curse. Damn, this old log cabin was as cold as a mausoleum. Fitting thought, since her sister wanted this man dead or just humiliated enough that he wished he was dead. Standing up the old floor groaned its compaint to her. Shut up, she thought. She held her stance, waiting………..good, no reaction from the manwhore. A small amount of relief leaked into her gut. She crossed the room to her destination wishing she had more clothes on, at least some socks. A chill ran from her toes up the back of her legs, was that from the ice rink floor or her nerves, probably both she thought. She needed to get out of here so Shana could take over, and that required a text. Grabbing her phone from the dresser her chilled fingers brought up her contact list. Icy fingers punched in the messege and then she hit “send”. Waiting and watching the little dots of her android race across the screen had her hyperventalating. She hadn’t even realized she had made a full circuit of the room and was standing next to the drafty, wintery window. Shuddering, she glanced down at the screen again, to her mortification NO SIGNAL flashed across the screen. She felt the dizzy feeling of blood rushing from her head. And then her worst nightmare as an incoherent mumble sounded from across the room.


    She placed her bare feet carefully on the rough and scarred plank flooring, counting each step, one, two, three, squeak. Cold air from the basement blew goosebumps up her legs.

  43. mike91848

    Her bare feet caused the old, oddly stained floorboards to creak like old joints as she paced back and forth; she waited, not knowing where she was.

  44. Karababy50

    She felt a numbing chill assault the soles of her feet from the uneven, creaky old floor as she marched haphazardly around the confines of her bedroom. Giving the pink, fuzzy slippers across the room a fleeting look, her eyes were then drawn to the lone window sill covered with frost and she briskly rubbed her goose pimpled arms. The winter wind howled and raged, matching the swirling unease of her mind. She unwhittingly bit her bottom lip until the coppery taste of blood flowed across the tip of her tongue. She barely registered the pain as she continued to pace.


    lol I believe I went a tad overboard, but that was a fun exercise anyway. Thank you! 🙂