Easy to say, hard to portray [Description Game]

description-game

#21

When I found out that my only son is dead, I started rapidly breathing, my heart was racing.

How could it be? He is a good boy, who want to kill him?

No,no,no.

They must be lying!

They has to be!

The more I thought about it, the more difficult for me to breathe. I started feeling dizzy.

    ** describe jealousy without words jealous, mad,anger,biter and envy **

#22

As Dana stood applauding for her friend, watching the woman strut across the stage to accept the first prize in a contest they had both participated in, an emotion Dana didn’t care to name swelled inside her chest. Hannah, graciously accepting the award, thanked her best friend for the support and Dana flashed the woman a beautiful smile as well as the people who cheered her on. But cheered at her for what? For losing? For being the second to Hannah? For always being in the supportive role?

Dana sat back down with everyone and as Hannah walked back to their table and sat down, the two women hugged each other. Dana congratulated her best friend with the happiest expression she could summon on her face. Inside though, Dana wondered what it was that she lacked but Hannah seemed to have plenty of.

Describe the internal thoughts of a person feeling a single emotion— any one emotion: sadness, happiness, anger, disgust, surprise, etcetera. Take your pick.
However, you can only describe their thought process. An internal monologue, if you will. No movements, no dialogues.


#23

I feel as though everything inside me is being ripped apart as I watch him walk away from me, everything inside me is telling me to run towards him, to me him stop. To make him return to me, to make him try again. To try us again.

Everything feels heavy and dark, my feet are frozen and I feel the tears building up around the rim of my eyes. I hate myself. I want to collapse here and not get up. My mind is reminding me how many times I went wrong, all the negative things I said. The things I said to make him leave.

Everyday felt like such a struggle with him, both of us trying to pick the pieces up to our relationship and most of the time I just wanted it to end.

But now that it has- Everything inside me hurts- It feels like I was suddenly dunked in a bath tub of ice and have been forced down to where I can’t breathe.

How do I move on now? 5 years of constantly being together now, I’m alone- Broken- hurt. What now?

Describe doing situps without ever using the word sit or up.


#24

I looked at my mirror and saw that I had a fat belly. The pool party will be in 3 weeks and I wanted to be pretty in front of Gavin.

I don’t want to look fat.

I grabbed the yoga mat and laid out on the floor. Then I laid on the floor, put my hands behind my head and tried to reach my chest to my knees.

After doing fifty times, I felt pain in stomach and spine.

I wanted to give up, but I didn’t want to give up my love for Gavin, I started fantasising about our future romantic moments, its gave me a motivation to continue to two hundred

Describe deja vu without phrase like I’ve been there/here or I knew this place.

I like this game you can learn writing scenes outside of our books, so you don’t have to create another book to learn writing specific new scenes


#25

Me too! It’s a great writing excercise. :smile:

Tanya sat back in her chair, massaging her forehead as she thought about their plan of attack. Just then, a loud bang sounded and her eyes opened with a start. James and Dane against a wall, his forearm pressing into Dane’s throat, constricting his breathing momentarily. Like several others, Tanya rushed out of her chair. Some people had restrained James while others surrounded Dane, helping him catch his breath.

Tanya was about to do the same when the flash of a memory halted her. This had happened before. She had seen it before— James holding Dane against a wall with his forearm digging into the man’s throat. In her memory too, several people had immediately separated the two men. Though, just a few seconds of trying to remember when it had happened before later did she realise that it wasn’t a memory at all but something eerily akin to it. An experience that was etched into her memory but one she never remembered experiencing in the first place.

Describe a character’s outfit but without dedicating a special paragraph or sentence for it. Use an occurring action to subtly include the outfit within it.


#26

Devon pulled off his father’s ring and handed it to Marcus. “You - You’re not gonna do anything stupid, are you, Devon?” Marcus asked.
Devon took off his sweatshirt. “Hold this.”
“Why?”
“Because blood is hard to get out of white,” Devon replied. He cracked his knuckles and started toward the giggly boy in the yellow skinny jeans.


#27

She looked at the finely decorated plate her mouth was watering it wasn’t only the way it looked but the smell too. It had such a sweet one yet she could smell all the spices added having enough of the looks she readied herself to eat. Grabbing her fork and knife she made her way through for a brown liquid to seep through the yellowish exterior. Maybe it was soy sauce? Taking her first bit drowned with the mysterious sauce the taste was similar to a thick paste covering her mouth. No matter how long she chewed or tried to swallow the paste still remained in her mouth. The exterior couldn’t be an egg at all maybe some uncooked dough but the steam coming off from it said otherwise. It had a thin layer of yellow and vegetables yet that liquid she couldn’t put her hand on it. Thick and sicking sweet taste to it that didn’t go well with the spicy salt taste that she could guess from the smell. Soon the scent changed to something being burnt. Drinking some milk to help the paste leave her mouth determined to figure out this mystery between smell and taste. Dipping her fork in the paste she tasted it, it was sweet in fact too sweet. It could go well with some salt-that was when it hit her caramel. Her idiot of a brother probably thought if it worked with salted popcorn why not some salted eggs. The egg would’ve tasted wonderful but now all it tastes like is a mistake never to be done again. She swallowed this dish is her enemy now with nothing to be eaten other than it and a brother he wouldn’t stop insisting for her to eat. She usually agrees as he was a great chef but now… that title is stripped from him in her mind.

Showing that the character is having trouble describing something in their thoughts


#28

Gwen’s face lit up as she slowly chewed the morsel that she had dared to bite into. It was a new dish, not anything she had ever expected to find herself eating. Her cousin Lynn had suggested this restaurant, though, and with little else that fit her strict dietary restrictions on the menu, she had ventured into unknown territory.

At first the girl had been sure she would regret listening to Lynn’s advice; but now she licked her lips and swallowed. Making sure to cut the next bite smaller so she could savor the taste she decided it was best to take her time with the meal.

Gwen chewed ever so slowly, mouth watering as she tried to find the words to describe it. It was such a mix of flavor and sensation…no single word could describe it. Earthy, sweet, but salty too…tender, oh God tender!

More than all that was a taste…a sensation…it went beyond mere flavor or texture. What word could possibly describe it? As the taste washed over her tongue she was certain it had to be a whole new sense, something beyond the five already known to science.

Humming in delight, Gwen could feel every ounce of tension flee her body as she melted into her seat. Whatever the flavor was it seeped into every part of her. It was toe curling. This food was enough to illicit a moan, embarrassingly enough she knew from experience.

For the life of her, though, the orgasmic taste the meal brought still had no words to describe the actual flavor. Only the sheer bliss it brought.

Describe an a character suddenly realizing the truth without using the words “realized”/“realization”, “dawn(ed) on”, or "epiphany"


#29

Cyan put hammer to chisel, a mite too hard. A chip crumbled from the Colour God’s jawline.

“You didn’t have to throw a ladder rung at him, you know.” Mag’s voice rung hollow in the workshop.

“And he didn’t have to leave a vase on my new canvas,” Cyan said into the half-carved bust. Hammer to chisel. A slip and a scratch. Damnit.

“A flowered vase,” said Mag. “Made of glass, Cy. Glass.”

“Yes, glass full of water, which he insisted on shuffling about every time I walked into the shop. I’ll never dry those rings out.” Hammer to chisel. A firm hand, controlled taps. Perfect. “And what of the perfume sticks left under my new bolt of cotton? Do you know how hard it is to get rose-smoke out of cotton?”

“Not as hard as it is to get Green out of your workshop with a steel rod and bad aim.” Magenta sniggered, the same sound her broom made as she brushed shards of glass out from under the table.

Cyan wheeled on her apprentice, hot blood turning her face violet. She jabbed the hammer into Mag’s shoulder. “I nearly put this hammer through the bust this morning because someone had oiled the haft in the middle of the night. He’s a white-hearted saboteur with porridge spilling out of his skull!”

“Please, he’s a scatterbrained romantic is all.”

“Then scatter each other’s brains outside of my workshop,” Cyan huffed, half-throwing up her hands. The hammer nearly slipped out of her grip; it had been vigourously oiled.

She turned back to the Colour God and settled the chisel on a groove that needed to go.

Mag’s broom hid a bit of her tutting. “Scatterbrained for you, Lady Ice-For-Eyes.”

The hammer froze a thumb’s width from the chiselhead, which was just as well, because she had been so livid she hadn’t realised how poorly placed her own thumb was. “Oh.”

Cyan turned around, set her tools down on the table, and stared at Mag, who kept her smile pressed down to a flat line. The glass vase, the perfume sticks, the tools that turned up overly-polished the next day…

Mag sucked her teeth. “Yup.”

“Well…” Cyan put her hands to her hips and frowned. “Well.”

**

Portray grief without using any emotion words (sad, angry, distraught, grieving, etc)


#30

Laura sniffled and wiped her nose with a sleeve. “W-why was he such an idiot?”

“I don’t know.” Carla answered, making a face. “I don’t know.” She grabbed the box of tissues on the nightstand and handed it over to Laura, making sure to wipe her face in the process.

“He didn’t have to b-be the h-h-hero. I-I was fine with h-him being selfish.” Laura blew her nose loudly into a clean tissue, making a sound similar to a trumpeter swan.

“Yeah, we all were.” Clara gave a bitter smile. Looking down at her watch, Clara stood. “I have to go now. I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Good luck.” Laura looked down and pulled at the blue comforter. She spoke shakily. “I’m sure he would’ve said that.”

“Yeah. He was always a sweet kid.” Clara turned around without looking back and walked out the bedroom door.

Slam.

After Clara’s footsteps couldn’t be heard, Laura fell into a fresh bout of tears.


Show opposite or mixed reactions on a face without using any emotion words.


#31

“I didn’t want to tell you,” whispered the girl, tears pouring from her chocolate eyes. She never thought it would come to such a direct confession, but she had to do it. The boy held her perfectly manicured hands, stepping closer to her one step at a time. The moon smiled upon the two lovers, standing alone in the abandoned park by the river. A single text had brought them together once again.

“It must be fate,” mumbled the boy to no one in particular.

“Huh?”

“Anyways, what did you call me about?” His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Are y-you cheating on me?”

“No!” The grip on his hands tightened as she stared into his eyes. "That’s not… the issue at all. I love you so much and you know that. And- "

“Are you… you know…” He looked away.

“Hell no.” She stepped closer to him, wrapping her lithe arms around his neck. Her lips edged closer to his ears, whispering a vile secret.

His cerulean eyes widened, his body immediately tensing as his eyes narrowed, brows deeply furrowed as his hands met his face, tears flooding as his face morphed into a trembling scowl. His hands shook, clutching his hair, and he spun on the heel of his white converse.

She was quicker, digging the gun into his head.

Emotions, especially too many at once, weakened a person.

It wasn’t optional.

She pressed the trigger.

She fell to her knees. A small, breathy laugh forced itself from her as she laid close to his corpse, her tears watering the dirt around her.


I don’t have any good ideas oOPS?

Show the mindset of a scatterbrained bride, trying to murder the best man while planning an elaborate wedding.


#32

sounds like fun

“Uncle Fred with Cousin Martha?” Noah tried.

“Didn’t Martha’s sister die in a drunk driving accident last August?”

Noah’s expression turned grim and he sucked his lips into a thin line. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“And speaking of it, put your uncle by the bathrooms.”

“The bathrooms?” he repeated. “Oh, because the bar is…” he mumbled, arranging the seating chart. “Hey, why did you put Damian at the end of our table?”

Meghan flinched.

“Isn’t it more traditional that the best man sit next to me?” Noah gave her a grin.

She forced a smile back, “That’s true,” she began. “But I’m wearing a red dress and my lesbian aunt is walking me down the aisle, so I think the concept of traditional has long been thrown out the window.”

“You would remove me from the company of my best friend?”

“I’m your best friend now,” she retorted.

Noah laughed and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Want some more wine?”

“Yes please.” Meghan watched him turn the corner into the kitchen as she tapped her pencil against the table. Her eyes fell on Damian’s name, seated near the back exit. Damian was a recluse, no one would notice if he left. And without sitting next to him, nor would Noah.

The best man had the nasty habit of smoking, and Meghan was counting on his evening fix.

“Here you are.” Noah planted a glass before her, snapping her out of her trance.

“Ah, th-thank-you.”

“How about Mary-Anne and your grandma Marsha?”

“Mary-Anne!” Meghan put her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I nearly forgot. She was doing the floral arrangements.”

“You had Mary-Anne do what?”

“The lady at Red Rose died and on such short notice, I didn’t have much of a choice! I was supposed to meet Mary at Starbucks for lunch today… oh god…” Meghan grabbed her phone from the charger, she hadn’t checked it since it died this morning. Seventeen voicemails. Meghan felt like crying.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Noah traced circles on her back. “It’ll be okay.” He tried another grin. “You’re wearing a red dress and your lesbian aunt is walking you down the aisle, who needs flowers?”

“I wanted flowers.”

He sighed and let his head rest on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow’s worries to tomorrow’s us. It’s late, let’s head to bed.” He planted another kiss on her cheek and got up, stealing a glance at her before disappearing into the hall.

She stared at the seating chart.

The moment Damian walked out that back door, the very moment

She glanced at her phone again.

"Payment recieved " read a text from an unknown number.

At least something is going right, Meghan thought, feeling a smirk grow on her face.

Damian was finally going to disappear.

edit because I kept calling Noah “John” for some reason


#33

Mark seemed to be putting in random commands into his controller as he eyed the screen with an intense concentration. There was a whole assortment of weapon fire coming from connected sound system along with disgusting grunts after each shot.

As each second passed, Mark only inched even further to the edge of his seat. When the final shot was fired, and the victory music played, Mark slouched down into the couch with a huge smile on his face. After weeks of grinding, he had finally beaten the last and hardest stage of Zombie Frontier. (May or may not be an actual game)

Describe the feeling of nothingness without using; nothing, empty, dead, hollow, or drained


#34

Floating through the star-speckled space, Ori was aware of everything. And by everything, he meant the lack of everything, for space was full of endless, infinite space. The absence of things was beautiful, when you thought about it. It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t exactly terrifying. It was just there.

This was a really hard one lol and I don’t even know what I wrote. I tried.

Create a new food and describe what eating it is like.


#35

Omg that was beautiful :broken_heart: