Writing The Synonymy Project

[eleanor]

[size=1] [b]^_^ Hello there. I just decided to post bits of this story I started some time ago since I'm bored and I have lots of time during the Winter Break. Just trying to get feedback and advice. [Note: I usually add red statements telling myself what to fix here and there. ^_^;;] Here's the first part:[/b]

To the regular tourist, the skyscraper would have passed as a regular business building. Who could expect anything but the shuffling of papers and the humdrum lives of office workers? The lone window cleaner stood precariously on the [color=red]___find word____[/color], frowning as he slowly wiped the already sparkling windows. His eyes were old and jaded, his face wrought with regret. His eyes would turn every so often to watch the actions of the workers. Same old, same old. Gray carpets with brown desks; pretty secretaries typing furiously as tired parents quickly scanned a paper or two. Florescent lightings on the ceiling gave a dim, artificial light as the occasional flickering of the panel in the back fueled mutters and whispers. A lazy janitor would be sitting on the wooden waiting chair, his eyes closed and mind focused solely on reveries and dreams. Williams & Co, the letters on the glass door said.

The sky was blue, not a single cloud obscuring the view of the building tops. A very dull, grayish blue it was. People walked importantly down sidewalks, pushing and pulling each other to quickly get past the street. Cars lined the streets, not a single one moving freely. The overpowering sound of jibber and jabber of people crowded the air, the honks and screams of trucks and cars. Dark alleyways would open a dark door to crime and drugs; prostitutes and slander. The police-bots? metal bodies were often seen torn and crushed on dirty sidewalks, with an occasional flickering of a steel blue eye. Gunshots and profanities were heard daily as parents tried to cover children?s eyes.

It was not long until winter?s long nights claimed its time, and the skies turned an ugly gray. Humid breezes would blow throughout the night, earning groans and quicker footsteps towards home. 11:30 PM. Night curfew struck and door slamming and car beeping would be heard in suburbia. Doors clicking and alarms beeping filled the streets of apartments. Homeless drunks would wisely retreat to the very corner of dark cut-offs. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. The stand-duty soldiers came out to play. Footsteps. Several; no?more than that?Hundreds. Hundreds of footsteps. Black boots tapped hurriedly down the street, silver buckles outlined with red stripes clinking every so often. Red uniforms majestically covered the bodies of hundreds. Tight black collars around necks, with embroidered red turtlenecks. Ruby-red collars outlined with a gold trimming neatly surrounded the base of the necks, resting on the shoulders comfortably. A tight-fitting shirt followed, golden square buckles holding it in place. The shirt?s base cut off triangularly, its very tip graced with a golden curve of cloth. Red slacks rippled slightly as legs walked quickly across streets and sidewalks. All carried a black pole, about five feet long. Eloquent line designs ran smoothly down the whole pole, each line allowing the pole to fall apart and shift into anything the people pleased.

Each person walked forward, some starting to split orderly as street corners were encountered. The clicking and clacking of the boots sounded almost rhythmic as the people started to stop at one place and firmly plant the bottom of the pole into the ground. The pangs of the black poles echoed all over the streets eerily as silence overpowered. Nothing was said, no one was moved. Words were not spoken, and eyes did not blink.

In the dim streetlights, one would barely see their faces. They were all relatively handsome in facial features. A wonderfully curved nose, lean faces, and sharp eyes. Red eyes. Drilling slowly into the facades around them. Cold, blood red eyes all of them possessed. Some were male, some were female, but all had a distinct aura about them. 11:45 PM. Soft patters were heard. Black figures roamed ghost-like among the streets, looking for those who dared to break curfew. Black collars, black turtlenecks, black button-up shirts, black slacks, black boots. Black eyes. The only shade that differed from black on their uniforms was a white, elegant symbol embroidered on the back. It was tiny, residing only in the very top of the back. They, too, had black poles, the exact replica that the stand-duty soldiers had. Though silver tips at either end glistened in the dim light every moment or so, flashing a light on the black-clad peoples? faces. No one knew the name of these dark people, and one who met one was never there to tell the tale.

Both black and red eyes all looked east simultaneously, following the sounds of a heavy clopping sound. A young woman raced down the sideways, her face flushed red as her unruly hair flew out from behind her. All the piercing eyes eased slowly into a blank look, as a small recorder flashed through their eyes. The young woman stopped abruptly in front of Williams & Co. The black-uniformed patroller set a holographic screen in front of its face, allowing the information he received from scanning the girl?s eyes to quickly list itself on the screen. A high pitched clicking sound whirred in the girl?s ears until the person stepped aside to let her through the swinging glass doors.
?Welcome to Rhocke, Melanie Winston.?


[b]There's the first page of it, anyway. I have a problem of knowing whether it's the right time to stop adding detail or putting more, or even knowing if it's good at all. =_=;; I'm usually wary of writing some things, because I'm paranoid and strange like that. Anyways, that was the first rough draft of it. I just skimmed through that and added the red thing. I actually forgot the word for those table-things window-wipers stand on. *looks down dejectedly* Comments and criticism, please![/b] [/size]