Ben Parsons

A descriptive scene that will later turn into something, perhaps, a little extraordinary?

He wore a Ralph Lauren oxford, yet a John Deer baseball cap set upon his military-styled haircut. He wore classic khakis, yet torn-up sneakers enclosed his overused, callused feet. Pearl white teeth filled his mouth, yet one black hole on the left side defined his face.

Ben Parsons sat upon his porch staring into the orange, Virginia sky on that warm August night.  His deep green eyes searched the land for the ill among the perpetual perfection we call the countryside. Why does the immortal seem so beautifully worry-free, while we roam in constant agony? Upon giving up his lifelong journey chasing the bad within the good, he leaned back, rested his head against the wooden back of his chair, tilt his cap over his eyes, and call it a day. 

Reviews

[GunMetal]

The description here was great. I could picture everything. There was only one line that threw off the flow; "...the perpetual perfection we can the countryside." Did you mean to say "call" the countryside?
Yes, I could definitely see there being more to this, or more being created from this, but at the same time, I'm content with the way it is as well. Great work.

[A.Lee]

Good little piece. I have a million little scattered paragraphs like this that come out of nowhere and then I throw them into a story every once and a while.