Describing the mist   Leave a comment




1. The mist was ghost-grey. COLOUR

2. It was noiseless and bloodless. LACK OF SOUND

  1. Shavings of mist passed over the field. SHAPE

4. It crawled over the still wheat. ACTION

5. It enwrapped the scarecrow. ARCHAIC WORDS

6. It was mirage-like as it moved. ADJECTIVES

7. The rain was showering the field. RAIN SOUNDS

8. It was thin and aeriform rain. LIGHT RAIN

9. The ploppy drops came later. HEAVY RAIN

10. The river was broiling and bog-brown. FLOOD RIVERS


                                       LEVEL 2: A BASIC PARAGRAPH

The mist was spook-grey. It was lifeless and motherless. Rags of the mist tickled the lake as it passed. It grasped at the calm water. It moved on and enclasped the shrubs. It looked fumy and filmy in the weak light of the morning. The rain began sissing off the pond. The rain seemed mist-like also as it came down in thin sheets. It became heavier and pregnant drops of the rain arrived. After hours of this, the river was turf-brown and slushing.



The tranquil valley was swaddled in a veil of poltergeist-white mist. It was eerily silent in the valley and the reason was obvious. The deathly vapour didn’t lick the valley’s cold floor as the wind was known to do. Its tongue less form wouldn’t allow it to. Instead, it warped nature by using its spineless tentacles to trail around everything. It drifted and ghosted, glided and dangled. Then it pounced. Once it was sure it had conjured up enough of its milky white substance, it clung to and enrobed everything it could. Nothing was spared. It snagged and snared every crag and tree without mercy.

Although it looked ethereal and gossamer-fragile, it packed a punch far above its weightlessness. It writhed and coiled with delight, its ghostly scarves wrapping the valley in a maze of mist. Then its age-old enemy arrived to banish it into nothingness. Darts of icy rain came spitting from the sky. They hissed and swished, shredding the veil into collars of isolated steam. Increasing in intensity, fat droplets of soaking rain purged the valley of any remaining mist. The incessant rain swelled the river, bursting its banks. It turned peat-brown immediately, rumbling through the valley’s rocky caverns. This time, the rain had won.


For much more of the above, please check out my book  Writing with Stardust which is now available on Amazon. You can also just click the book images below.












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