Welcome to the third weekly, JWCers! This week, we'll be focusing on settings, mainly how to write one. I struggle with this, so I hope this helps you as well as me.





I'm pretty sure everyone knows what the five senses are but I'll state them anyway: Hearing, Taste, Sight, Smell, and Touch. By using these five senses, you can effectively write a good, descriptive scene. Let's focus on them one by one:

Hearing: Can the character(s) hear anything? If there are trees, maybe they can hear the wind rustling the leaves. Or if there's a creek, the rushing of water.
Taste: Is there anything to taste? I.E. In a coffee shop or bakery, there might be the scent of cinnamon floating through the air, so strong they can taste it.
Sight: This is usually the easiest one. Describe colours and shapes, like the rich brown of the bark, or the sharp angles of the stones.
Smell: What smells are there? In a forest scene, you might smell the fresh air or the scent of flowers.
Touch: What can the characters feel? Can they feel the soft, feather-like petals? Or do they feel the harsh wind whipping against their face?

For your assignment, write five separate scenes, each one focusing on one of the five senses. Each scene should be 150 words minimum.





The main literary devices I'll be focusing on in this part are:

Imagery - Descriptive language; pretty much painting a picture
Personification - When you give a non-human/inanimate object human-like characteristics
Metaphor - A figure of speech; using something to represent something else
Simile - Similar to a metaphor, only you use “like” or “as” to compare the two objects/ideas/places/people
Symbolism - Using symbols to represent ideas
Hyperbole - Exaggerating statements

Each of these literary devices is extremely helpful when it comes to writing a descriptive scene. By using imagery or personification, you can make the scene come alive. By using Metaphors, Similes, and Symbolism, you can make the readers think. And by using Hyperbole, you can get a point across really well, as well as add a bit of humour to the scene.

For your assignment, you'll write one scene of at least 400 words and should incorporate at least four of the six literary devices into your scene to improve the setting.





For you final assignment, you'll be writing a 1k minimum short story, incorporating all the literary devices and the five senses into it.

First! My weekly #3:

Part 1: The Five Senses.

A Serenity of Death ~

Hearing: Philip looked around the scenery. Lush green trees surrounded him from every angle. There was a faint humming sound like that of a precocious Nightingale. The song it was singing was so serene he couldn't even begin to think what else could imitate that gorgeous song. Maybe a bird call could be smart enough to sing the Nightingale's song. But what kind of bird call calls a Nightingale? Philip wandered deeper into the forest. Dark clouds swirled around him like glooming fog making its way into his soul. Perhaps it was a warning. A warning of danger? A warning of death? The Nightingale continued to sing its song which somehow sounded more eerie as the time went on. It was probably his mind tricking him. Yes. That mischievous mind of his. Always fooling him/. Always thinking something's there when it's not. A foul prankster is what his mind is. A true true foul prankster. But it could do better. Much better. (161 Words)


Utterly Insane ~

Taste: Carol sipped her tea. It tasted of sweet cherry chocolate. It was like someone had dipped a cherry and soaked it inside a bowl of hot warm chocolate. Sure it was hot, but it was so soft and gooey which contrasted the heat, making it utterly delicious. Who would have thought to mix cherry and chocolate? Someone must have sat at a table with a group of people and said “picture this. Cherry dipped in chocolate, but a tea.” Everyone would be astounded, just like Carol, yet if you think about it too much, it wouldn't be so surprising. It seemed to be a perfect mixture. The chocolate taste to the tea literally melted in Carol's mouth as she swallowed it. Cherry. Chocolate. Stunned mind. A perfect mix, right? Absolutely no one in the world with a sane mind could have come up with that. That makes them completely and utterly insane! (152 Words)


How Peculiar ~

Sight: Ezekiel wandered aimlessly through the town. A thick milky white fog surrounded him which made it quite difficult to walk in a straight line. He stuttered to the side, but caught himself on a cold gray lamppost. That's strange. How is there only one lamppost? I swore I saw another one just a few yards ago, but it had a purple light! Not a yellow light at all! How peculiar! Ezekiel shook his head. “I must be dreaming.” He blinked his dark brown hazelnut eyes and looked forward before quickly realizing that the fog had completely disappeared. “Huh. Now that's quite strange if I dare say.” Now surrounding him was the town he knew all too well. Up ahead was a navy blue sky full of twinkling white stars. Constellations could be seen fore thousands of lightyears, but all Ezekiel could recognize was the Big Dipper. He let out a exhale. It sure was miraculous. (155 Words)


Maybe it is a sixth sense after all . . . ~

Smell: Fresh warm cinnamon left a pleasant aroma that seemed to linger in the air of the small cottage style cafe. Anastasia breathed in the scent for she would forget all about it in the next hour. She would be out doing errands and minding her own business to even recall that she had breathed in such a fine scent. Sure it was powerful and mind consuming, but that's why Anastasia fell in love with this cafe. It was such a strong scent that it clouded her mind when she sat at the two-person booth. But then it would vanish almost instantly when she opened the doors to the outside world. It was strange how the world consisted of so many smells and how one smell would never overlap another. It would just replace the scent and take over the mind that came across it. Whether it be a stench or an aroma, Anastasia could never forget how she could sense a smell so vibrantly it felt as though it were a sixth sense. (173 Words)

Nothing mattered ~

Touch: Candice closed her eyes. All she could feel was pain. Sure it was hurting her, but she couldn't help but smile at the thought that she could still feel things. She could still reach out her hand and touch whatever may be at her side right then and there. Candice winced at the pain that suddenly emerged, but she breathed. She breathed on and on but only took two deep breaths. Those were to clear her mind. She could tell that she was laying on a bed. A white bed with baby blue sheets on it. She reached her hand out and immediately felt the warmth silky texture of the thin sheet. Then she slowly drug her hand to the pillow which her head had been laying on. It wasn't so soft, but that was why she had propped herself up with a blanket. She couldn't tell what color it was, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered. (157 Words)


Part 2: Literary Devices

The Dead Queen ~

Zane stuttered. Sure it was a breathtaking fall, but he could have seriously injured himself. He couldn't imagine what would happen if someone found out. So what really happened? A few hours ago, Zane was walking through the kitchen and reached into the cabinet. He was looking for some freeze dried chocolate covered strawberries because well, they're his favorite snack and he was craving them. Anyways, Zane grabbed the pink bag and turned around only to see a horrific sight. Zane stuttered. Standing in front of him was his sister. Why did he flinch? Maybe because his mother had driven Daniella to school and never his mother leave the house after coming back home. So he was frightened. He looked at the clock which read 2:15PM. “Aren't you still supposed to be at school?” He asked.
“Mommy picked me up early.” Daniella twirled her frilly pale pink dress with a mischievous grin.
Zane bobbed his head up and down like a cat who got its paw stuck on a string. “Where's mom?”
“Oh, she had to go to the grocery store.” Daniella said innocently.
“And she just left you here . . . without telling me?” Zane felt like something was off. Maybe it was the way Daniella was carrying herself? Or how she twirled her dress like a toddler who did something terribly wrong but didn't want to confess.
“Uh-huh! And she told me to-to tell you that . . . uh . . .”
“You know what? Forget it, Dan. She was probably in a rush. She's making her famous Mac N' Cheese tonight. She most likely went to the store to get the ingredients for it.” Zane slowly walked away and went into his room, but he had a sickening feeling in his gut. He sat down on his rolling chair and spun it around for a few seconds. Once he spun a full 360, Daniella was standing in his doorway. “Daniella! What the heck are you doing?! Don't just stand there acting like a lunatic!”
“I'm sorry, Zane. But you look sad.” Daniella slowly walked over to him and wrapped both of her arms around him like a giant teddy bear.
“Get off me, Dan. What has gotten into you?” Zane pushed her away, a little scared of his sister's misbehaviors.
“I'm sorry, Zane.” Daniella turned around and shut the door on her way out.
Zane sighed. He stood up and walked out of his room and headed for the garage where he heard loud drilling effects. “Hey, dad! Do you know when mom's going to be home?!”
“I thought she already came home! Didn't you hear the door open when Daniella arrived?!”
Zane shook his head and rubbed his temples. Something was off. He walked to the front door and peered through the glass and into the driveway. That's strange. Her car is here. Zane turned around again and he saw Daniella staring at him. “Chill out, Dan! You're giving me the creeps! Look! I already have over a billion goosebumps on my arm!”
Daniella smiled. “Perfect! Then you can join me and mommy for supper. She's laying on the floor right now acting as the dead Queen.” (525 Words)

Devices used:

• Imagery
  

• Metaphor
  

• Simile
  

• Hyperbole
  

Total Words: 1,323
(I didn't have enough time to finish part three which is why I am truly grateful for being able to only submit 2/3 parts)

Eh, I might go over the word count thingy of 150 words. Not that I'm being cocky, but when I'm usually given a word limit, I always end up going over it.

Part One: Five Senses!

Hearing - Jason was awakened by the sudden stir of music in his ears. It gently slipped its way in with every moment that passed. Without hesitation he began to listen to it closer, admiring the beautiful melodies that made their way into his body. It shook him with how eccentric and quaint the notes were. It was a piano, he could tell. Whoever played it definitely knew how to play, it was as if hundreds of years of experience went into this song… And it was magnificent. Jason couldn't bare but to smile at the songs, he never heard of such endearing tones, they touched his heart and cared for it almost as if it were a mother. Jason lifted himself up, holding his head in astonishment as the song came to an end. It was dead silent. Jason yearned for more, just for a bit longer. In that short time, Jason had become obsessed with the song the pianist played. He attempted to replay it in his mind, but something just so striking and majestic couldn't be redone by a simple look back. (181 words, eh, could've done better. I'm not good at describing how people hear things lol..)

Taste - (Bro I'm gonna suck at this)

(Not done, will complete later)

Weekly for Journalists-

Part1.

Touch- 181/150

I did not know where I was.
I did not how I got here.
But the first thing I thought was one, singular word.
Cold.
The air was cold, frighteningly cold. You could not imagine how freezing it could be to sit in a room with no lights, and barely adequate clothes for the temperature.
I felt a note in my hand, but could not read it. I felt around the floor until I landed upon a soft, warmer texture than the room it was placed in.
I picked it up in my hand, larger than it seemed. I put it around me as a blanket, and sat there, getting used to the chilly temperatures.
I sighed through my nose, and felt the cold fog surrounding my face, suddenly realizing I was rid of glasses. I didn't like them anyways, but now I missed them as a sign of comfort.
And I lay down on the icy floor, the blanket half above and half below me, barely covering me.
But the blanket was all I had, and I cherished it deeply.


Hearing: 150/150

The air was still, not a sound to be heard, except of course breathing of mine.
Slow and steady I thought it was, yet it was not. It was fast and upbeat as if running from a tiger.
The statement proves I am used to being in trouble and in a constant state of panic.
A short sound occurs, a drop of water perhaps. Plop, goes the sound, and then a tiny splash.
I always was good at hearing.
Hearing footsteps, hearing screaming from the outside of the window.
Yet to hear the drop of water was a strain, trying to observe every sound.
To hear every minuscule droplet fall on the ground, and splash back up to make more.
The cycle seemed endless, and I had no idea of any beginning.
And I sat there, waiting for the next drop of water, eagerly, hesitantly, patiently.
So lonely was I.

Smell- 151/150

I gave up on droplets.
How many minutes had passed?
How many hours had passed?
Had it been a day, a week?
I could not comprehend the law of time.
I smelt dampness in the air. It was soothing yet unsettling, something calm yet not right.
A slight tinge of rosemary I whiffed. Where could have that come from, gods only know.
I slowly turned in the darkness, trying to follow the Rosemary, but failed immediately.
It had floated away, leaving me alone with the damp air once again.
And I waited.
I wanted the Rosemary to come back, but instead unintentionally welcomed the smell of wine.
The sweet smell which you could never get used to, yet sickly if smelt too much.
This left me thinking, had I been in a wine factory this whole time?
Yet the wine also drifted away, leaving me confused.
And I waited once again.

Taste- 151/150

I waited, I waited, I waited.
And this time I smelt food.
My mouth was watering as I thought of all the things I could be doing, except sitting in this dark, cold place.
I thought of cake, warm, melty, gooey cake which you could stuff into your mouth on winter evenings.
I thought of pie, freshly brought from the oven, hot enough to burn your mouth but not too hot if you blew on it just right.
I thought of the small cubes of delight we would get in the bakery on Friday evenings with our pocket money, not too warm for you to spit back out but not cold for you to heat up once reaching home.
My mouth waited in pain to get out of this room.
I wanted to eat, I realized, because I was hungry.
But the food I cherished was not to be seen anywhere.

Sight- 159/150

But to talk about sight, I did not open my eyes this entire time.
Was I in deep slumber, thinking these thoughts through dreams?
Was I afraid to open my eyelids, afraid of something I would not want to see?
For the pitch black room would have scared the bravest man on earth; completely quiet, with no smell at all, freezing and alone.
Yet I forced myself to refuse the fear, and slowly started to see.
My vision for the first few minutes was nothing compared to the things I would see a few minutes later.
All I could see was black. Staring into a void that would never end.
I tried to walk, which was a mistake, as I knew not of what was ahead of me.
I tripped and almost broke my nose if not my elbows had protected me.
A few minutes later, the sights I saw made me change the wretched view of this room.

Part 2
Used-
Imagery
Hyperbole
Personification
Metaphor
Symbolism

Words- 448/400
To think I had thought this room ghastly felt like a sin.
This was not a room.
It was something more, it was a piece of art.

The black void I had seen above me slowly started to twinkle, and become stars. To say they were pretty would be an understatement.
They were magnificent and radiant, glaring back at the world as if to challenge us to fly up and touch them.

The ground soon felt more solidified as the wood planks came into view. As I moved around the room more, I felt the room getting hotter and cooler on certain sides of the room. Happily, I rushed towards to warm side, to come across a brazier.

The brazier was small,
the brazier was light,
the brazier barely had enough coal to last the night,
Yet the brazier was enough for me.

I sat next to the brazier, warming myself. To me, the brazier seemed like a fireman in a building full of fire, trying to cool it down, but the complete opposite.
While I sat next to the brazier, the flickering flames which I had made brighter with the metal stick next to the handle of the brazier started glowing and producing more heat. I wondered, how had it been pitch dark if there was this light shining at the corner of the room?
A mystery.

The flames lit up the wall next to me, and I looked at the carvings on the piece of smooth concrete. There was a wheel with a bow and arrow inside it/ Next to the symbol was another replica except for this time it was a square.

Below the pair was a symbol showing four waves of water with a V-like structure on top. This also had a pair, except the V-like structure was now more like an A.

The carvings went lower and lower, and I was engrossed in reading them. After trying to decode all of them, my head started to feel lighter, as if released from stress.
I pulled the brazier next to the wall and left a gap for me to sit in between the brazier and the fascinating wall. I took a piece of wood from a loose plank on the floor and put some of the fire on it. As I held it to the room I saw an empty bottle of wine and a vase of rosemary. There were marvelous markings on the other walls too.

I put the wood into the fire, giving it more strength and fuel.
And I sat there as the brazier warmed me, leaning against the wall and falling asleep, not knowing what was to come for me.

Part3-

Words- 1240/1000

I did not know where I was.
I did not how I got here.
But the first thing I thought was one, singular word.
Cold.
The air was cold, frighteningly cold. You could not imagine how freezing it could be to sit in a room with no lights, and barely adequate clothes for the temperature.
I felt a note in my hand, but could not read it. I felt around the floor until I landed upon a soft, warmer texture than the room it was placed in.
I picked it up in my hand, larger than it seemed. I put it around me as a blanket, and sat there, getting used to the chilly temperatures.
I sighed through my nose, and felt the cold fog surrounding my face, suddenly realizing I was rid of glasses. I didn't like them anyways, but now I missed them as a sign of comfort.
And I lay down on the icy floor, the blanket half above and half below me, barely covering me.
But the blanket was all I had, and I cherished it deeply.

The air was still, not a sound to be heard, except of course breathing of mine.
Slow and steady I thought it was, yet it was not. It was fast and upbeat as if running from a tiger.
The statement proves I am used to being in trouble and in a constant state of panic.
A short sound occurs, a drop of water perhaps. Plop, goes the sound, and then a tiny splash.
I always was good at hearing.
Hearing footsteps, hearing screaming from the outside of the window.
Yet to hear the drop of water was a strain, trying to observe every sound.
To hear every minuscule droplet fall on the ground, and splash back up to make more.
The cycle seemed endless, and I had no idea of any beginning.
And I sat there, waiting for the next drop of water, eagerly, hesitantly, patiently.
So lonely was I.

I gave up on droplets.
How many minutes had passed?
How many hours had passed?
Had it been a day, a week?
I could not comprehend the law of time.
I smelt dampness in the air. It was soothing yet unsettling, something calm yet not right.
A slight tinge of rosemary I whiffed. Where could have that come from, gods only know.
I slowly turned in the darkness, trying to follow the Rosemary, but failed immediately.
It had floated away, leaving me alone with the damp air once again.
And I waited.
I wanted the Rosemary to come back, but instead unintentionally welcomed the smell of wine.
The sweet smell which you could never get used to, yet sickly if smelt too much.
This left me thinking, had I been in a wine factory this whole time?
Yet the wine also drifted away, leaving me confused.
And I waited once again.

I waited, I waited, I waited.
And this time I smelt food.
My mouth was watering as I thought of all the things I could be doing, except sitting in this dark, cold place.
I thought of cake, warm, melty, gooey cake which you could stuff into your mouth on winter evenings.
I thought of pie, freshly brought from the oven, hot enough to burn your mouth but not too hot if you blew on it just right.
I thought of the small cubes of delight we would get in the bakery on Friday evenings with our pocket money, not too warm for you to spit back out but not cold for you to heat up once reaching home.
My mouth waited in pain to get out of this room.
I wanted to eat, I realized, because I was hungry.
But the food I cherished was not to be seen anywhere.

But to talk about sight, I did not open my eyes this entire time.
Was I in deep slumber, thinking these thoughts through dreams?
Was I afraid to open my eyelids, afraid of something I would not want to see?
For the pitch black room would have scared the bravest man on earth; completely quiet, with no smell at all, freezing and alone.
Yet I forced myself to refuse the fear, and slowly started to see.
My vision for the first few minutes was nothing compared to the things I would see a few minutes later.
All I could see was black. Staring into a void that would never end.
I tried to walk, which was a mistake, as I knew not of what was ahead of me.
I tripped and almost broke my nose if not my elbows had protected me.
A few minutes later, the sights I saw made me change the wretched view of this room.

To think I had thought this room ghastly felt like a sin.
This was not a room.
It was something more, it was a piece of art.

The black void I had seen above me slowly started to twinkle, and become stars. To say they were pretty would be an understatement.
They were magnificent and radiant, glaring back at the world as if to challenge us to fly up and touch them.

The ground soon felt more solidified as the wood planks came into view. As I moved around the room more, I felt the room getting hotter and cooler on certain sides of the room. Happily, I rushed towards to warm side, to come across a brazier.

The brazier was small,
the brazier was light,
the brazier barely had enough coal to last the night,
Yet the brazier was enough for me.

I sat next to the brazier, warming myself. To me, the brazier seemed like a fireman in a building full of fire, trying to cool it down, but the complete opposite.
While I sat next to the brazier, the flickering flames which I had made brighter with the metal stick next to the handle of the brazier started glowing and producing more heat. I wondered, how had it been pitch dark if there was this light shining at the corner of the room?
A mystery.

The flames lit up the wall next to me, and I looked at the carvings on the piece of smooth concrete. There was a wheel with a bow and arrow inside it/ Next to the symbol was another replica except for this time it was a square.

Below the pair was a symbol showing four waves of water with a V-like structure on top. This also had a pair, except the V-like structure was now more like an A.

The carvings went lower and lower, and I was engrossed in reading them. After trying to decode all of them, my head started to feel lighter, as if released from stress.
I pulled the brazier next to the wall and left a gap for me to sit in between the brazier and the fascinating wall. I took a piece of wood from a loose plank on the floor and put some of the fire on it. As I held it to the room I saw an empty bottle of wine and a vase of rosemary. There were marvelous markings on the other walls too.

I put the wood into the fire, giving it more strength and fuel.
And I sat there as the brazier warmed me, leaning against the wall and falling asleep, not knowing what was to come for me.