The sun’s ray’s play on my face – Creative Writing

The suns rays tend on my face, I manage to open my eyeball and see the nominate bathed in a puddle of light, making the old houses smock walls glow. Between the walls, the windows with their dark sheen give the patina of age, hypothesizeing the whole house. It has a sylvan feel about it with a few pieces of exterior furniture made by a good craftsman many years ago. It is an old uncontaminating house with a red roof and a large porch from where lots of sunflowers in their vessels smile at the sun. Looking through the windows made utterly insurmountable with the glorious mornings sunlight.The garden seems heavenly, with its extraordinary colours and vibrancy. The suns rays reflect of the flowing water of the stream alongside the river, almost painful to look at if it werent for its rare beauty. The sweetness of flowers and various strange plants waft through the line creating a summer feel. In the painted pots, geraniums channelise my sight with a large palette of colo urs, creating a peaceful feeling.The sun is up in the unsanctified sky, birds are singing on the trees and the air is make full with the fragrance of the flowers. The little pathway leading up to the house is very quaint with its meandering cobblestone formation, its tiny gate and the fences surrounding them. I travel my fingers everywhere the front of the door, feeling every mulct texture and ripple of the mature oak.I turn back to the house deep into the veritable(a)ing. The sun finally let way for the moon about and in doing so has changed the wiz of the house entirely. Its small gate and fences reassure me that it is the very(prenominal) house yet so much seems altered in some way. The bright sparkling sacrilegious stream running down the garden had sustain a dark mysterious crawling creature.The house is now purple with moonlight tainting the beautiful white that it previously was. The furnitures silhouettes show warp figures watching over the garden. Furthermore, the sunflowers appear as scarecrows with their tall thin trunk and wide spanned leaves imitating the arms. The moonlight has jaded the houses rustic magical spell and made it an object of unsettling nature.The garden has also been distorted with its lack of colour and texture, everything seemingly taking a troublesome form in its silhouette status. The at once beatiful smeel of plants has now been frozen out by the cerement of the air. The beams of sunlight eat vanished, replaced with the dull smolder of the moon catching everything in its wake and not allowing even a fragment of colour to reach my eye. The bees and the birds have left and with that comes the sinister silence of the shadowy darkness. The light-headed snake that was the pathway curls and coils its way to the doorway where I had once stood, nonetheless the house seems unrecognisable without the colours, sounds and smells that once made it such a special place.