Arlock writes (personal). An outlet for Glossolalia

Description Exercise

Take an image, describe it through different genre filters


As a spoof.

A pimple of a mountain, an acne scar on the face of Gaia, that’s what this place is. People take one look at this place and head to more civilised areas, bemoaning their traitorous tourist guides. They leave behind only their dust, while the moon looks down myopically at the tiny people, a judgemental eye in a gaudy blue face.


In a romance.

Away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Away from the noises, and distractions, and failed relationships. This place would be an escape, a return to simplicity, if only for a few days. Just the two of them, alone together under an endless sky and a shy moon. The warmth of the rocks, pure in their ochre tones, was a warm welcome. In this ancient place, maybe something new could be awoken.


A suspense story.

It sits hundred miles from anywhere, its secrets hidden from the world by virtue of sheer isolation. Somewhere in a deep crevice, guarded by the sheer approach and broken terrain, a world changing discovery waits. The mountain is patient though, it has waited since before mankind began to record its words. For now it sleeps under a blue sky until it can reveal itself and change history as we know it.



Harsh stone, broken only by the occasional appearance of a stunted tree struggling to survive. There was no easy path, and no sanctuary from the scorching sun. This was an unforgiving land, a stranger to both rain and hope. Here mercy was a quick fall and slow lingering death as the sun claimed its sacrifice. Bleached bones giving mute testament to how often that mercy was granted.

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