Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Creative Writing - 2. Lake Manapouri
Lake Manapouri Season Comparison Creative Writing Task 4 (5GPA)
On the stony shores of Frasers Beach you can see the shimmering blue beauty of a lake. I look down to inspect the stones. I pick up a sun warmed, flat black stone. Turning it over in my hand I then grip the smooth sides and skim it across the lake that is like glass. There are family’s enjoying the magnificence of the warm summers day burning their skins till they look like lobsters. A small wave laps at my feet as if the lake is trying to gain my attention. Mountains looming ominously at the top end of the lake, bare of snow. I look towards one of the few islands covered in trees as if they are under a permanent blanket of green. I see more boats, some fishing and some skiing. The slight cool breeze takes the edge off the suns intense heat. Hearing a high pitched squeal of joy I look to my left and see a bubbly looking little girl and boy, they have built a large sandcastle decorated in stones and pieces of ragged driftwood. I close my eyes and listen to the laughter and buzzing of the boats. I head back to the more temperate house.
On the stony shores of Frasers Beach you can see the angry dark blue lake. The beach is empty. An icy cold wind whipped my hair about like a spooked horses mane. Shivering I pick up the flattest stone I can find. I rub my warm hand over the icy cold surface of the smooth stone. I try to skim it across the lake but it plunges into the face of a large wave. The waves are crashing all around, driftwood washing up along with old, dead leaves. There is nobody on the angry lake as they fear the rolling waves, but I look harder and see a tourist boat braving the rugged conditions, it is bouncing around as if its jumping into the lake. There is a large grey cloud covering the now snow-capped peaks. An old man with a dog is walking down the beach with his dog, his dog is chasing the waves as if they are cats up trees. I smile at the old man as he walks past, his wrinkled face gives me a smile warmer than today’s weather. I close my eyes and hear the waves crashing around me. I decide to walk back to the super warm house.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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