Prompt: Describe the last moments before you leave a place forever.

Stray
by Jeremy

Dusk is lively as always, with the moon high up yet outshone by the city lights. Sable
wanders away from the bustling streets and into an alley, spellbound by the scent of fish. Then
face to face he comes with a door-less wooden gate, and beyond it, a placid panorama. The
atmosphere is unfamiliar, but it has a welcoming semblance that impels him to explore.

The pale orange ambience engulfs him as soon as he steps in, with the blurry gleams in the
distance now looking all the more alluring. The lane is aligned with stalls, or more appropriately,
humble restaurants, at both sides. While its grounds acting as the canvas for a stone pathway.
Smoke ascends from the grills, bringing with it the aroma of burnt cuisine. Then a sudden
zephyr clears the grey mist, and in this brief moment of clarity...Sable gazes at the still masked
radiances, oblivious to the red and yellow blazes mirrored upon his sapphire eyes. He strolls
onward, still staring, when his senses catch the lingering fragrance of his most beloved meal.
He rushes, as if the gust he encountered earlier was carrying him.

Drowned in a rather peculiar frenzy, Sable neglects the "dangers" up ahead and zooms right
across thousands of puddles of water. All the while summoning ripples upon the fallen rain
whenever his feet made contact. And so a distorted backstreet is reflected upon these tears. He
later arrives at the source, a modest joint where a man is wielding an iron skewer which pierces
stripes of pale orange and white. The man is covered in a charcoal robe-like clothing, which
resembles the attire many would display when pearly petals dwindled from the trees. A trickle
palpates his obsidian fur, shifting Sable's focus towards the heavens.

He let out a meow, and a solitary star replies. Separating them were the steel pipes that
slither from one side of the wall to the other, and sprouting from these silver snakes were maple
leaves, also of a pale orange hue. A droplet once again embraces gravity, but this time, collides
against a cobalt iris.

Sable loses sight of the sparkle up above, but kept on, now intrigued by a manifest brilliance.
He sneaked closer, observing what seems to be the sun encaged in paper. The spherical
structure is hanging from the rooftop, and as he roams about the pleasant glow, strokes of
somber lines can be noticed at its sides. Sable settles himself upon the cool polished rocks,
simply admiring the incandescence. Then another draft crosses by, driving away the dusty
clouds and isolating a single illustration.

The image hovers and comes to a rest right in front of Sable, poking at his curiosity
repeatedly. He finally complies, allowing the painting to unwind and wrap around his mind. A
door-less wooden gate...although a tad bit more ornate and had a hint of red, and a myriad of
colorless petals. Sable whisks out of the alley and into the bustling streets, clasping a souvenir
tightly within.
Descriptive Story of William TL:
Prompt: Imagine you return home after a long period away. Describe your surroundings
and your thoughts and feelings as you return.

As the black, boiling asphalt touched my feet, the hot humid breath of the glaring
heavens brushed against me. Trees whispered silently, as if to welcome my arrival, or perhaps,
the other way. Vintage wooden houses stood on both sides of the endless road, with crooked
oak doors and tainted windows as if it was sleeping, although the scintillating sun on the vast
sapphire sky tried its best to wake the urban, I was paralyzed with my mouth opening like the
size of craters of the moon.
Red towering lamppost accompanied the feathery bright green leaves tangling the
rough, crisp bold trees; their lights were dead, knowing that reincarnation would come at
midnight. Behind it stood an army of lush smooth grass with their heads pointing sharp and
upwards, reaching out the warmth of the searing hot sun scorching the ground. Gleaming white,
crimson, tan and ocean-blue polished cars lined up strictly, beside the sitting wooden cottages
hiding behind unbreakable beauty of the lawn seasoned with roses and sunflowers. Streaks of
red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet stretched miles on the boundless sky, painting
gradients and imprinting it on the firmament, tiny singing birds gathered around, echoing
soothing chorus, worshipping and praising the gods. Without noticing, a grumpy puddle went
obstructing my path, halting me as if to charge me with any offence on road. Beyond it are
hollow shadows taking the forms of houses, splitting the views into two different worlds, the
mighty sun goes on a titanic.
The fiery sun starts drowning, far on the colossal hills, decorated with shadows of horses
sprinting downwards following the dying solar light. The energetic dark-yellowish birds retreated
to their comfy, straw made nest waiting, on the black jangling cables hanging above the smooth
stone slab sidewalk, lifted by wooden poles, being colonized with mushrooms. Winds went calm
and soothing, dragging me to follow its flow, together with the luminous lamppost, the glowing
light shone its brightest hour, radiating and preparing the invasion of the dark night. The gloomy
blue sky started to sob, growing bigger to outburst cries, throwing slashing bolt randomly having
a tempest rage. I reached my oak wooden porch, welcoming me with a thick fluffy doormat,
holding the soft metallic knob, a great smell of dust burst from behind the stiff door. Before
entering, I slowly took a glance behind me; the sun waved its final goodbye…