Creating Mood Through Setting
Halle Bon
English 201 AP
February 16, 2015
No Church This Sunday
As I walked up to the old and dangerous steps of the church, my heart started beating rapidly as if someone, or something, had reached into my brain and flipped a switch. The air was thick with the taste of must and dirt as I slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to still my beating heart. I could still feel the hot, viscous blood running through my veins as I looked up to see the fog surrounding the exterior of the weathered building, thin and grey, as though someone had hastily painted it on.
I swallowed harshly and opened the creaky metal door, the chill of the handle making my blood run cold up my arm.
Click clack. Click clack. Click clack.
The echo of my footsteps rang out as I walked past the pews, almost corrupting the deafening silence of the church. There was no denying the eeriness that came along with the building, the broken and shattered stained glass portraits staring at me as I walked up to the altar, and the candles that looked as if they'd been blown out in a hurry, wax scattered on the floor and across the table. I glanced up at the large crucifix that hung up on the wall, surrounded by faded fake flowers and the dead prayers of the past. I took another shaky breath as I stared down at the goblet on the altar. The sweet smell of wine seemed to emit from the object as I picked it up, cold metal stinging my flushed skin. I slowly set the cup down and walked past the altar, my gaze now fixed at the giant crucifix hanging on the wall. It stared down at me, and I could hear the warning the cross was trying to lay upon me. I shook my head and turned back around, facing the pews and old metal doors situated at the back of the church. I could see the dust hanging in the air, suspended like tiny
Halle Bon
English 201 AP
February 16, 2015
trapeze artists from the ceiling, and the way the sunlight was colored from what remained of the stained glass. It
English 201 AP
February 16, 2015
No Church This Sunday
As I walked up to the old and dangerous steps of the church, my heart started beating rapidly as if someone, or something, had reached into my brain and flipped a switch. The air was thick with the taste of must and dirt as I slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to still my beating heart. I could still feel the hot, viscous blood running through my veins as I looked up to see the fog surrounding the exterior of the weathered building, thin and grey, as though someone had hastily painted it on.
I swallowed harshly and opened the creaky metal door, the chill of the handle making my blood run cold up my arm.
Click clack. Click clack. Click clack.
The echo of my footsteps rang out as I walked past the pews, almost corrupting the deafening silence of the church. There was no denying the eeriness that came along with the building, the broken and shattered stained glass portraits staring at me as I walked up to the altar, and the candles that looked as if they'd been blown out in a hurry, wax scattered on the floor and across the table. I glanced up at the large crucifix that hung up on the wall, surrounded by faded fake flowers and the dead prayers of the past. I took another shaky breath as I stared down at the goblet on the altar. The sweet smell of wine seemed to emit from the object as I picked it up, cold metal stinging my flushed skin. I slowly set the cup down and walked past the altar, my gaze now fixed at the giant crucifix hanging on the wall. It stared down at me, and I could hear the warning the cross was trying to lay upon me. I shook my head and turned back around, facing the pews and old metal doors situated at the back of the church. I could see the dust hanging in the air, suspended like tiny
Halle Bon
English 201 AP
February 16, 2015
trapeze artists from the ceiling, and the way the sunlight was colored from what remained of the stained glass. It