Monday, 16 March 2015

SLice #16: Writing Without Sight

A fuzzy cloth covers my eyes, ticking my eyelids. My shoes digging into my thigh. Sitting on the sharp prickly ground. I hear giggles and snickers all around me. the scent of wet grass lingers through the warm summer breeze. Rusty screeching swings, piercing my ears. The sun painting my skin. "We are ready!" I raise my hands up to my eyes to take off my blindfold. Light scorces into my eyes.


  1. LOVE this line Farah, "The sun painting my skin," very effective in getting the reader to feel the warmth of the sun.

  2. I agree with Ms. Peters! That part where you talked about 'the sun painting my skin,' everything was very descriptive! *Thumbs up back*