The Desk

 

Her desk was her temple. Tucked into the corner of the smallest room her three bedroom apartment had to offer, the desk created a four level, wedge-shaped shrine. She would spend hours on end deep in devotion. Below the desktop dwelled her computer. Wires coiled and slithered in and out of view. The printer sat perched atop the computer bulky and obsolete as ever. To the left of the computer in a collapsed red box left over from Christmas was a disheveled pile of printer paper. A thick layer of dust covered all that lie below.

            Above this, a desktop existed that was cluttered to say the least. Every inch of its surface was adorned with the many accessories she had accumulated over the last few days. An empty bowl sat in front of her alarm clock. Her two pencil cups sat on opposite sides of the desk. She could never have too many writing utensils. A large McDonald’s cup sat to the left of her desk, still sweating in the July heat. A dead mp3 player, earbuds, and a seam cutter lie intertwined next to the keyboard. Her calculator and index cards where a constant reminder of the hell waiting for her in the Fall. A bag of staples, colored pencils, and three small boxes were shoved, unloved and forgotten, behind the monitor which sat in the center of all this mayhem.

            Two speakers rested to the left and right on small platforms secured a foot from the desktop. The left housed a stuffed monkey wrapped with peeling masking tape, mummy-style. The right platform supported a sassy ceramic monkey that had seen its fair share of super glue. Above the desktop was a shelf. Front and center was a family of ceramic chimps lazing around a tea light. Their upturned faces caught the light in a picturesque manner. Behind this family sat two olive green picture frames. The right one held a picture of the girl. A picture she always meant to change, but never did. The frame on the right was home to a close up of a silver-back gorilla deep in thought. The picture was a sad reminder of a lost friend. In the center, behind all of this, was a shadow box containing a rock and a Chinese proverb.

            We reach the top of this magnificent structure. Drawing one’s attention to the center was a painting of a rabbit created by a friend. The green and yellow hues of the painting accented the room perfectly. Four vases angle out from the picture on either side. The closest to the painting were copper with green marbling to create an aged look. The vases furthest away from the painting were made of green, translucent glass. Between these vases, perpendicular to the painting, rested a wooden incent tray lying on a bed of ancient ashes. This is her temple, her safe haven, her desk.

Author's Note

Just trying out some descriptive writing. Let me know what you think. =)
And yeah, that's an actual picture of my desk. =P

Reviews

[BLACK PRINCE]

It is a very descriptive, poetic story.
I took a look at the picture of the desk
on your profile.
you nailed everything in detail.

You definitely have poetic eyes.

I like the way you applied metaphors
to many of the objects on your desk:

' Wires coiled and slithered in and out of view.'
' To the left of the computer in a collapsed red box....'
' A dead mp3 player....'
' The right platform supported a sassy ceramic monkey...'

And much more.......

BEAUTIFUL DESCRIPTIVE PIECE !!!

[nostal]

Nice desk.

[JohnL]

When I was attending classes in creative writing, we were often given exercises in observation and subsequent recording thereof. It was both interesting and valuable - Interesting in that you realised how much was in the 'picture' and valuable because it is often in the little, un-noticed detail that the finer points of a story are revealed. The next point the tutor made was to point out how repetition is likely if we don't watch our construction carefully. If I may just point out that in the short para. 1, you have used 'desk' and 'computer' three times each. The use of a different structure or a pronoun or two would tidy it up no end. I feel it is good to write your full obdservations then concentrate on putting them into good, readable prose, economic in words but not to the degree of becoming a list. This way you will get the most benefit from your exercise both in observation (yours is first class) and also in prose improvement. I hope you are happy with my making the suggestions. I'll have a look at one of your poems tomorrow - thank you for your kund comment on my sonnet,
John