Please Criticize and Post any comments. :]
I know about the improper usage of commas. I was taught to use commas that way, and have yet to edit them in the story. ~Thanks :]
What stands out most about the room is not the detailed artwork on the wall; in fact, it wasn't even the objects which were inside. What stood out was the window; not for its size or texture, but for what it was about. A window is a window, until you open it.
The wind blowing over the nestled branches high above the ground. The noises afar emphasized as though they were so close. Birds awakening from their midnights slumber, attempting to feed their young. Earthworms squirming amongst the gardens soil. A swift take down and it was gone. In a matter of seconds, life turned to death. After that, the crunching of the rabbits feet going across the yard as if it was solely taking a stroll. Each and every noise could be heard in full detail.
But what is a window? A link to the outside from the inside. A flow of air through your home. No, a window is much more. A reflection of imagination; of what could be there and could be heard.
This window was like no other, for it did not exist. A dream; in fact, which contained the essence of possibility. The hope of sound. The boy who was dreaming, the imaginer, deaf and unheard for years. What he dreamed, was a wish. The window, was a dream. And what he heard, was once a reality.
I know about the improper usage of commas. I was taught to use commas that way, and have yet to edit them in the story. ~Thanks :]
What stands out most about the room is not the detailed artwork on the wall; in fact, it wasn't even the objects which were inside. What stood out was the window; not for its size or texture, but for what it was about. A window is a window, until you open it.
The wind blowing over the nestled branches high above the ground. The noises afar emphasized as though they were so close. Birds awakening from their midnights slumber, attempting to feed their young. Earthworms squirming amongst the gardens soil. A swift take down and it was gone. In a matter of seconds, life turned to death. After that, the crunching of the rabbits feet going across the yard as if it was solely taking a stroll. Each and every noise could be heard in full detail.
But what is a window? A link to the outside from the inside. A flow of air through your home. No, a window is much more. A reflection of imagination; of what could be there and could be heard.
This window was like no other, for it did not exist. A dream; in fact, which contained the essence of possibility. The hope of sound. The boy who was dreaming, the imaginer, deaf and unheard for years. What he dreamed, was a wish. The window, was a dream. And what he heard, was once a reality.