—Write
a paragraph in which you create a scene through auditory imagery. The purpose of your paragraph is to create a particular
mood. Use one olfactory image to enhance the mood
created by auditory imagery. Comment on at least one other post - mood created, choice and effectiveness of imagery. Due by Friday, December 18th.
The ticking of the clock was breaking the hush of the room. Tick. But she wasn't working like the others. She was away, tock, kicking the air with her feet to the rhythm of the chalk, coming from somewhere else.
ReplyDeleteShe was away, thinking of her night-walk at the sea. The sound of her quick shoes against the rock. The murmur of the ebb, the perfume of the sea. She heard again the whispers of the ocean.
Tick. She was away. Tock.
I this that this paragraph is very effective. The sound of the clock is extremely effective. Indeed, we follow the character as her attention shifts from the classroom to her memories. We do not exactly know what her night walk by the sea consisted in, but the delicate auditory imagery lets us believe that it is positive memory. The use of the unique olfactory image qualifying the smell of the sea as a "perfume", strengthens the idea that the character is reliving a joyful memory. I especially like the link that you have made at the end of the paragraph between the wishers of the ocean and the ticking of the clock.
DeleteHe laid alone in his opaque tent in a dark calm forest. He was listening, carefully, to anything. It was complete silence if he made exception of the slow wind weaving between the trees. It made little noise shaking the leaves, gently whistling. He relaxed and let himself drown in the fragrance of the wet earth breathing under him. A branch cracked but he did not even notice, the guilty howl flied away in a hushed up wing-beat.
ReplyDeleteIn your paragraph, the mood is clearly set up. The character is situated in a relaxing, calm atmosphere, thanks to the use of adjectives and adverbs. What I found funny to focus on in what you wrote is precisely the fact that he is listening to (almost) nothing. Silence remains the main theme and the reader is as attentive as the character in order to try and catch every little sound that is potentially made. A very detailed paragraph that totally helps the reader to imagine the scene and even happens to put the reader in the same peaceful condition as the character's.
DeleteShe could hear the choir singing Christmas Carrols from outside the church, and the snow cracked under her feet as she walked past it. She remembered the laughter, the popping of chestnuts in the oven, the smooth sound of slicing the turkey, the crumpling of wrappers,... As she rang and the door opened before her, the scent of wood burning in the fireplace filled her nostrils : it was Christmas.
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DeleteI like the theme you chose (especially for this period of the year ;) ). I like the fact you used an enumeration which emphasizes once more the imagery of sound, and creates an atmosphere of warmth, which is contradictory to the weather/temperature (snow). Plus, you used different kinds of sounds (from the distance, provoked by the speaker and memories). Finally, the olfactory image you used at the end reinforces obviously the atmosphere of warmth (contrast with the exterior of the house) but you could have used maybe something a bit more suprising, out of context to shift the focus from what's inside.
DeleteStill very good!
I particularly like your paragraph. I think it's extremely effective. The sound imagery of the snow under the feet is very talkative and that's what I like about it. The accumulation of sounds one after the other gives the impression of a confused feeling , or a confused memory that we all have of this period of the year. I like the fact that you really described a mood, and an atmosphere more than a real precise action. Finally your ending is very effective too. It's clear, short, and we understand that it is clearly te point you were going to. Of course I appreciate the contrast between inside , and outside atmosphere. We almost want to come in with you :) ! Good Job !
DeleteHe could hear the wind gushing through the trees and the occasional thud of a branch falling to the ground. The pattering of the rain against the narrow dirt path reminded him that he was drenched from head to toe. He ran on, alone, outside and felt completely free. The sound of his path hitting the gravel announced that his run was coming to an end. He pressed the front door handle and heard a group of joyful laughs. The smell of fresh toast, bacon and eggs filled his nose as he slid of his shoes.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this paragraph and thought you conveyed your ideas very effectively. I particularly liked how you managed to take something which is ordinarily considered as threatening (a storm) into something joyful, or free. I think your use of the word 'gushing' expressed this very well, as it is a far more positive term than what one would usually use to talk about the wind, and also reinforces this idea of freedom.
DeleteThe noisy restaurant enwrapped her in her very own bubble. The annoying sound of forks hitting tables and plates. The genteel family sitting next to the most uproarious woman she had ever heard. She closed her eyes and let her eardrums vibrate to the beautiful jazz music playing in the backgound. Such a Bistrot-like restaurant. She openend her eyes when the mix of delights entered her nostrils, breathing the air as if she was already tasting it: the incredible French ratatouille.
ReplyDeleteYour rhetoric is really great, you used elaborate adjectives to describe the atmosphere : however, I found quite strange the fact that you presented in the whole, a crowded restaurant that made the narrator uneasy but finished with laudatory imagery. Despite that, I really liked the way you developed the olfactory image : it was really effective and quite surprising. Nice job :D
DeleteHe didn't hear the noise of the crowd around them. All that mattered was the delicate sound of her voice. And what it was saying. He noticed how changing it could be, depending on her words. More high-pitched when she bursted tunefully into laughter to his funny anecdotes, then slower and careful when it was her turn to say something. He found it lovely. He forgot all the rest, all the other voices, even the waiter's "what would you like to drink?" barely a few minutes before. On the left and on the right, the turmoil had no way to be loud enough for him not to be able to hear her anymore. He listened to her. Closely. There were no lyrics to be left off.
ReplyDeleteIn your paragraph you effectively describe a man falling in love not with the woman's physique but with her voice, which is uncommon. I believe this auditory imagery adds a sensual dimension to it. Moreover I get the feeling that the description of her voice is an extended metaphor of music. This can be confirmed by your last sentence with use of the word "lyrics". The woman is using her voice like an instrument, playing with rhythm and intensity. Whether she does this consciously to seduce the man or unconsciously, it has a hypnotizing effect on him. Indeed he is oblivious to the loud noise of the crowd surrounding them. I believe this creates a contrast between the woman's voice and the crowd thus making her stand out even more.
DeleteI opened the door of my bedroom and I started to walk in the hallway leading to the living room. It was early, I just got out of bed, still wearing my pyjamas. I could smell the gracious odor of the roast chicken and the homemade smashed potatoes coming from the kitchen. It was already late.Almost 11 am. Granny was preparing the meal. I could hear the click of the timer announcing "it's ready", the cracking of the chair on the floor when Granny rises to cut the fire, the slamming of the dish on the table, and the noisy radio always on... That's what I liked about this house... The sounds, the smells that take you out of your dreams in the morning to take to even more heavenly place : Granny's kitchen.
ReplyDeleteI seize the handle and the door gently creaks open. I deposit my plate inside with care, as if it was a newborn child. I close the door and can hear the distinctive creaking sound once more. I set the time, the buttons bleat under my fingers. My heart beats with eager anticipation. Dum dum. Dum dum. Dum dum. The specific humming sound I am so accustomed to resonates against my eardrums. Slowly it hypnotizes me. My hammering heart accelerates and I can feel its pulse from the tip of my toes, running through my veins. Suddenly a mouthwatering aroma drifts in the air and surrounds me. Dum dum. Dum dum. Dum dum. Ding! Time is up. I open the microwave door. Diner is served.
ReplyDeleteI liked the way you grew a tense atmosphere up and finally break our expactations. What I find interesting in your paragraph is the rhythme you managed to put in it with audatory imagery. There is at first a sense of suspense in the beginning of your story, with this silence only broken by the creaking sound of the door which distrubs the quietness and steadiness of the atmosphere. Then things start to speed up according to the rhythmic of the heart beats. The words are well chosen to create an oppressing environement and rushing events(at first sight !) such as « the humming sound » and the « hammering heart ». The idea of rhythme is to be found also with the onomatopoeias and the « pulse » in the toes. There is even more mystery, we wonder what’s going to happen. And this growing mystery is very well kept until the end ; only three words and we are completely bewildered !
Delete(And I enyoyed your style, a bit Arundhati Roy-like !)
Your post made me laugh, as it achieved to transform a simple and everyday-life task into a sensationnal travel !
DeleteThe repetition of the heart beating make the lector nearly sweat. We can see the tension everywhere in your post, and then a true and franc joy with the final part, backed up with the olfactory imagery !
The streets were light up with Christmas decorations. The bars were full of people chatting, drinking, singing along to the music thumping out of the stereos. Nobody seemed to bother the cold nipping at noses and cheeks while you waited outside to be seated. Heads were nodded to the flow with the instrumental and feet were hitting the measure. The crowd - full of strangers - exchanged smiles, amused looks and few words that sprinkled joy and excitment for the night to come. As she walked by her pace caught up to the beat of the song. The base dropped. A chill ran down her spin giving her goosebumbs. The worries and sorrow hovering over here were forgotten, washed over and drowned by the music. Taken by the rhythm drumming in her head, she walked aerily accross the road over to the bar. Looking up as she walked into the crowd, humming, she saw the neon placard above her head flashing "Saturday Night Fever". The air was thick with excitment and twitched calling out for celebration.
ReplyDeleteI really liked your paragraph, first of all because of the theme! But what's surprising is that, although you are talking about Christmas, you don't mentio it a lot, which creates a sort of questioning : we still get the celebration feeling, but it's more like partying and not a prospect at family gathering, which is very interesting. The fact that most of your auditory language is about music is what created this atmosphere, I think. Moreover, your description is very complete since you also used touch and sight. It is very effective !
DeleteSeated in the darkest corner of the room, swaddled in a blanket, she kept her stare fixed on the door. Gradually, the faint sound of whispers slipped accross the door and reached her ears, her mind, and froze her entire soul. She could hear the pace in the vast hall on the other side of the wall, echoing louder and louder, teasing the silence of the somber shelter she had found in this place. The key cliked in the lock, the handle stirred, the door creaked, and the icy air of winter overwhelmed the room sweeping the sweet smell of lavender the blanket away.
ReplyDeleteA barely audible howl. I walked quickly. A bit quickly. The cracking gravels behind me, the silence of the night above.
ReplyDeleteA second howl. It became obvious that they were not here to chase a rabbit. Rustles. All around me. I begun to run.The Flash, they used to call me. Barking on my left, I forked to the right. Ho no, they won't get me, not this time. Scraping behind me. They marked the road in order to follow me. I crunched my pill of adrenaline, to run faster, further. Far away. Shriek behind, they were rushing toward my position.
The hooting at 20 feet away from my position, on my left, let me know that I was running in the good direction. Scratch. My leg got caught in a bramble. A twitch and I was back on this deadly race. Blood. I smelt it. Snort. Snorts. They smelt it too. I begun to see small dots. I was running to fast for my eyes. They were just behind me. A bay for blood. The race was too fast. Too fast... And suddenly, silence. Black curtain. I was trapped.
Against his will, the words that sprung out like play-darts out of her « poppycock factory » continued to break into his head and poke around with his ideas that frowned, shrugged and quite inevitably gave up the space to those subtly yet persistantly pungently fish-smelling noises. Nothing but these subtly yet persistantly pungently fish-smelling noises echoed against the annoyed walls of his mind.
ReplyDeleteSean T.
Against his will, the words that sprung out like play-darts out of her « poppycock factory » continued to break into his head and poke around with his ideas that frowned, shrugged and quite inevitably gave up the space to those subtly yet persistantly pungently fish-smelling noises. Nothing but these subtly yet persistantly pungently fish-smelling noises echoed against the annoyed walls of his mind.
ReplyDeleteEverything was still there; the rushing of the stream over the ashen rocks running in the middle the asters and their sweet perfume, the gentle tapping of my feet on the old oak bridge, the airy murmur of rabbits sneaking through the orchids. The juicy splash of fish breaking the water’s surface together with the smooth rustle of cherry blossom infusing with the freshly cut grass. The dawn chorus of gold crests and sparrows joined to the regular clink of the woodpecker. Really, nothing had changed since then.
ReplyDeleteThe moon lit my way back home : the night was peaceful. Well, it was supposed to be. But my heartbeat literaly attacked my ears and invaded my body. Bo bom bo bom. Spasm. The wind blew in the trees, whistled and screeched in my ears; it blew in the leaves, making them fall just like tears. A wheeping sound in the night. And bo bom, bo bom. Spasm. Some essence inspired life into the dead of night : I heard the worms in the earth, the beetles, the ants, the spiders moving all around me, creeping their way up my mouth to fill it with screams of anxiety. Bo bom bo bom. Spasm. I took a look at my hands : I could hear the hearbeat in them too. I took a look at my red red hands and smelt the metal-like smell. I took a look at my red red hands and smelt the blood. Bo bom bo bom. Spasm.
ReplyDeleteHe was waiting for him to leave the doctor's office. he was sitting right in front of the door. In the room, he was alone, with the chairs, the magazines, the toys... And the clock. Tic, tac, tic, tac. It's been an hour since his lover entered the office, and he had no idea what he was going to say when he'll get out. Tic, tac, tic. All the questions keep rushing in his head, and he doesn't know. Tic, tac. The door opened.
ReplyDelete