The Description Game

The point of this game is to test your description skillzz! In this game, you'll be given a word by the person above you. It's your job to take that word and describe it as best as you can, but make it no longer than five sentences. This is to help you exercise your description skills, not overdo it!

Ex: tree

On that particular December morning, the wind was rougher than usual, blowing the leaves off of the tree that stood in front of Mia's house. The lean, thin branches were no match for the strength of the wind, and so they bent and they bowed, curving in the air with as much grace as a ballerina in the midsts of her routine.


Make sense? Remember, imagery is one of your strongest assets when it comes to writing, both poetry and prose. Use metaphors, similes, personification, onomatopoeia, etc. Figurative language is your best friend when it comes to descriptions!


Now, dear reader, your word is.. blanket.

;D Have fun!

A blanket is a special thing to the creative child, with a flip its a cape, with another a hood, with another a warm embrace. With a blanket a old traveler is born, lost and forgotten on a old road, his tattered sheets his only protection from the dull pour. With each step the creative child took on the role, watching those most fortunate walk by, in their fancy clothes with glittering eyes. The boy dropped the act, his hood and became a adventurer, his cape flowing behind him in the wind as he faced down trolls and goblins. The beast screaming into the night for a fresh kill. Once again the boy dropped, soft sheets bellow him and his great cover wrapped around, a parents kiss on the cheek. The warmth to carry him on to another shore.

So the next word is Brain

The brain is a curious thing. It is the thing that intellectuals have studied for hundreds of years and yet no one can quite tell you how it works. It is one of the most powerful things on this earth. It can compel you to speak, to move, to interact, to love. It gives you authority over your own movements and it is the force behind every thought and every action. It gives you the power to take a life or to spare it.

The next word is kiss.

An unusual sense of happiness rushed through Alexis as she leaned into Andrew's kiss. It was both wonderful and disgusting at the same time. A symbol of intimacy between them. But also something that would often be frowned upon, due to her age. Such a confusing thing, a kiss. No matter what perspective Alexis looked at, this one act always could represent two very opposite things.

The next word is home.

It was just the way he remembered it.

The old house slouched comfortably over the hill, light spilling from the clouded porchlight, from the windows at front and side and peeking out from under the peeling gables. He stepped across the stones that cobbled together the driveway, following the pattern that his feet remembered through his shoes, from when they were small and bare and carefree and danced like fairies, like moonlight, like leaves on the wind.

He smelled bricks and timber and cooking food, the rough tuneless music of voices and laughter; the bones of a house that were older than his own, older than his father's, his grandfather's, than who-even-knew.

The floorboards creaked in long-awaited recognition, the wind chimes sang over the murmuring oaks, and the door under his fingers whispered, welcome home.

The next word is desk.

(Sorry, this is a lot more then five sentences. I just had a wonderful idea and couldn't pass it up.)

It's old and off-balance, but it will have to do. Timmy has been waiting nearly a year, and I want to surprise him. Most people wouldn't think that acquiring a desk would be that hard. But it has to be the right desk. It has a dark finish, it's legs carved into spiral patterns. There are several drawers underneath. Not the best size, but they'll work.
I talked to the old man on Mooncrest Lane - Charles Lancon, his name was. When I had first talked to him about my son's love for writing he had made a big deal about desks. Being a writer, I'm going to trust his opinion over my own. He said that while most people will go on and on about having the right typewriter or pencil or coffee, what really matters is the desk. It has to set up the right feel. It must be beautiful, but simple. It needs to have a practical place for the things that the writer needs, but small enough storage space that it won't get cluttered.
I tried my best to find something that fit those requirements and all the others he listed later on. This antique will have to do. I hope Timmy likes it.


The next word is dirt.

Dirt gets no respect. When we're not ignoring it, we're walking on it, or doing our best to wash it off. Look up dirt in the dictionary and you'll find words like filth, impurity, and excrement. Dirt is always on us. No matter where we are. We just can't see it. Its too subtle..

The next word is Love.

When she fell in love, her heart ached and her mind escaped into a realm of bliss and divine happiness. The fluttering butterfly wings swarmed through her stomach and tangled in her throat, choking her of words to describe the eccentric feeling. The love warmed her heart until she glowed, freeing her from chains of pain and misery. Forever and ever she wished for the bittersweet poison of love to flood through her veins, filling her with life.

The next word is Bird

The crow pecked at the ground and then looked up at me, as though the crumbs I dropped weren't good enough. I took another bite of my sandwich and then tossed the rest at the bird. Startled, it gave a harsh caw and flew off into a nearby tree, where it angrily preened it's feathers until they shined with a beautiful black glow.

The next word is window.

She had to wipe at the grime to see through, and even then, the warped glass distorted the image. Rattling in response to the wind gusting through the alleys, it allowed cold air to leak through. A hole, eerily similar to a bullet wound, made a whistling noise when the wind blew the right way. She wondered what the bars were keeping out... or in.

Hm... Try petal

Wow, that's a difficult one ...

As spring blossomed, the wind blossomed as well, unfolding elliptical petals. Each was smooth and silken and curled at the tips like dog-eared pages. I smiled; they possessed lips and a throat, and though they only spoke through whispers, no one could argue they weren't alive.

The next word is stone.

Like the single pin keeping down all the earth from one side to the other, it sat atop the biggest hill, in the only park, beside the oldest tree and the man-made dam. For years children clawed their way up to the top as a desperate act of adulthood, and all the adults of the town looked fondly as memories of aging sank into their minds. It wasn't just the rock of town, it was The Town's Stone Pillar, even though it wasn't a pillar at all, but a bolder, implanted like a museum piece on the grassy knoll. Today, it was the sign of the apocalypse. Someone had spray-painted the entire stone!

The next word is book.

It smelt like the bones of an ancient forest. I skimmed over its rugged terrain, smiling, as birdsong dripped into my skull. Faraway birdsong from faraway lands. Unlaced with ire, where throats weren't sandpaper, where their voices twined through their wings. They should market book-scented perfume.

Let's go with memory.

A movie of moving pictures, all color, dancing around endlessly in my head when I close my eyes. A scrapbook of things long forgotten. It holds the entire life of one individual, a life none else can see. It can tell you every secret, if you can find it in the deep labyrinth of pictures and thoughts. The place you go to recover those things lost to time.

Hmm, a hard one. Life

Losty why would you do this to me? I could do this using six words, or longer so I'd provide both options!

Strangers. Friends. Best Friends. Lovers. Strangers. (If I remember correctly this was taken from the net somewhere, I read it awhile back)



We ride into the world, strongly clasped in your arms. You grow us, give us cheer and travel miles. You age us, we slip from your grasp. You stumble us. And then you fail us.

Edit: Oops forgot the next word. Angst