This is part of the DP challenge: Collecting Detail: Being a writer isn’t something you can shuck off, like a hat or a coat — being a writer is a quality that lives inside you — a part of your brain you simply can’t shut off, doing the work of the writer regardless of whether you’re out and about during your day or you’re in front of your typewriter, your screen, or your notebook.
My 3 details: Dark winter sky, Taut cobweb ready to net its prey, strength, see through deceptiveness, smell of smoke rushing curling towards the ground
An elderly woman huffing along the road, children racing by calling, shouting, each to each other she is unseen, unnoticed – in a different world.
Pushing jostling crowds in the shopping centre, people smiling calling to friends, loud greetings hugs, closeness, warmth that dispells the cold bright air.
Tracey slouched against the seat in the shopping center. The walkway filled with jostling Christmas fueled shoppers. A glimpse of the Spirograph, cobweb design in the shop window brought memories rushing back to her. Time slipped back, allowing Tracey to smell the crayons. She loved the feel of the smooth wax in her chubby fingers. The crayons scent mingling with the more overpowering turkey aroma. Home made decorations adorned the ceilings, paper lanterns swung in the draught of the open door. Firelight reflected off bright baubles making them appear to dance on the tree. Uncles, and aunts poured into the room, wet boots and jackets abandoned. Tobacco and perfume curled about her, tying everyone in one neat parcel. Jovial voices rose and faded, as though they were a choir. The warm atmosphere in the room continued, making the light brighter, the room smaller, voices louder. Suddenly it faded as time spiraled, Tracey landed in the present with a thud. Remembering where she was, who she was, and that home was wherever she managed to scurry into at night, a doorway, a warm vent. Standing up she smiled, a toothless warm smile, I’m alive and lets enjoy being here, she thought as she moved to the next bench. Her smile was rewarded when a security guard pressed a warm cup of tea in her hand. “No sugar, I’m sorry.” He whispered.
Traceys eye’s twinkled at him, “don’t be sorry there is always hope for the next time.” Together they chuckled at her absurd joke before he quietly slipped back to his post.
Further examples, can be found at :Dp Weekly Challenge