Arts + Entertainment
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Snowflakes
Fat snowflakes floated to the ground, blanketing any remanence of life. A thick blanket of white covered the soil, the grass, the trees; and a sense of silence over took the air. It was not the silence of night in a room without a light, nor the silence in a room full of people staring blankly at one individual. It was a soft muffled silence, like being wrapped into wool carpet. The air was crisp yet scentless, nothing like pumpkin bonfire autumns, and the crispness was much sharper. It was sharp enough to bite her nose, causing an angry red color to emerge. Her cheeks easily followed her nose, enough to look like a blushing school girl. The fat snowflakes clung to her hair and thick eye lashes, the white flakes contrasting against the darker colors. She stood still like a doll, her boots sunk deep into the blanket. She wore a jacket, but it was thin, yet her arms stayed at her sides. She felt cold. Her eyes stared blankly out into the white, fascinated and excited for this time. The time where she felt anything. Spring brought new things; new animals, new plants, new life. Yet she felt no ounce of happiness. Summer baked all life, forced cold treats into her hand and dips into the pool. She did not feel relieved by the cold waters. Autumn killed life that spring brought, causing leaves to shed their youth and fall into death. The satisfying crunch of plant corpses did not bring any joy. Winter however, was a clean slate. A pure world of white, and only white. There was nothing, and in that nothingness she found something. Something more then a daily routine of humdrum. She felt cold, she felt inspired: she felt. Her eyes raised to the street lamp, the only thing that casted light in the darkness around her. The light seemed to flow through the snow, and glowed off of her white coat. She felt at peace and once again, as in every year, she thought to herself, "how odd I find something in nothing, yet nothing excites me more."
By Mikayla Kahlenbeck8 years ago in Poets
Gerald's Game Film Review
I don't consider myself a King expert, at least in the realm of his actual books. I've read The Green Mile (which was years ago) as well as one of his early works published under his Bachman pseudonym, Rage, which would have made a really effective "bottle film" and has themes that are more relevant today than ever.
By Parker Stanfield8 years ago in Horror
Movie Review: 'Risk'
The documentary Risk from director Laura Poitras is an engrossing and fascinating portrait of a man that history has yet failed to fully grasp. Julian Assange would like to be thought of as the Robin Hood of the information era, robbing the rich of their secrets and sharing them with the world. But Assange’s choice to make himself the public face of his Wikileaks organization has unquestionably gone to his head and rendered him a paranoid and strange figure who believes conspiracies against him are hiding behind every corner.
By Sean Patrick8 years ago in Geeks
