Creative writing woooooo

Statement of intent- I am writing this creative writing piece about a day up the ski field, Treble Cone. It is a mountain that I have been going to from a very young age, where I look forward to getting up there every weekend and skiing from sunrise until closing. I want my reader to feel as though they are up the mountain, experiencing the whole scene. I want to paint the scene by using the five senses as well as figurative language to create a rich description of my scene. The passing of time is shown through the use of the sun and the descriptions behind it as the long eventful day slowly comes to an end.

It is winter, a crisp morning in the mountains, as the wary sun peeks up over the sugar-coated hills. It is god peering down on the world below. A blanket of white, hugs the undulating landscape creating a fresh canvas ready to be painted. Shrubs and pines shake off the morning frost, infusing the air with the sharp, sensual scent of a raw winter. Trails of cars play follow the leader up the treacherous, iced roads, winding their way up to the bejewelled peaks, crowned with headdresses of ice and snow.

Listen. It is the morning call from the keas chiming through the cutting, crisp air, leaving frozen notes hanging in the mist, holding on to the harmonic melody. It is an arctic breeze whistling and dancing over the hills, prancing and twirling as the everlasting winds swirl the snow like the white sea foam. The graceful flakes flutter around merrily, until finally venturing to the ground, with a delicate landing into the abundance of snow. The sound of excited children chattering and laughing is whisked through the frost-bitten air as they rug up in their winter attire, in an attempt to block out the bone biting chills.

It is Saturday morning. The thin, golden beams of light streak the surface as the sun curiously extends its arms over the mountains, reaching out to touch the slopes below. Infinite light floods the landscape as brave skiers and snowboarders brace the brisk conditions, preparing to explore the undiscovered terrain. Clusters of families wait eagerly in anticipation, queuing to embark on the rickety lift, lugging its way to the top. Bulging, velvet clouds scatter the sky, moving rhythmically with the sound of the wind, as they attempt to scare off the fearless, beaming sun. Skis and snowboards carve intricate drawings into the fresh canvas of the rugged mountain face, creating a mind map of the mountains. The over confident skiers seek fresh lines, hunting for unscathed valleys and hills, glazed in the snow from an eternal winter. “Come on, we HAVE to go down here”, the lead skier exclaims, overflowing with adventure and thrill as he points his fluorescent orange pole in the direction of an abrupt, grand valley, running for eternity. Craggy, broken rocks with points and edges as sharp as piranha teeth jut out of the mountainside, creating a perilous minefield to be avoided at all costs. The skiers, awakened with energy and passion, take the first cautious turns down the exhilarating slope. The race begins- a stampede of snowballs hurtle down the course, hunting down the skiers in an attempt to win. A raw, spine tingling breeze is channeled down the valley, closely following the keen skiers, whipping up snow in all directions. Tornados and spirals of fresh snow form a whirlwind of frosted flakes, morphing the freshly skied terrain.

Look. slow and steady, the meandering stream winds its way cautiously through the rolling countryside, marking a clear, curvaceous path for the lost adventurers to follow. It is a dark abyss, the once courageous sun now shying away, cowering, to hide behind the safety of the mountains. Bit by bit but ever so slyly the dark, omniscient figure crawls deeper down the valley, consuming all in its path. Darkness is approaching. Shaky footprints engraved in the landscape stagger further up the crusted face, beckoning the explorers to follow. Wary glances all around are all it takes to start the climb, panting and heaving as the top looms further and further away. Clouds tumble over the sugar capped peaks, flooding the sky and draining the colour from the freshly painted canvas. The beacon on the horizon flickers faintly, losing strength as the darkness scares the light away, like a fierce cat chasing a petrified mouse.

And soon you will be standing gasping frantically, yearning for that crisp, biting air to flood in to your lungs. The climb is over. Exhausted and limp, the sun makes its final appearance filling the zesty orange hued sky with an ambient glow. It sluggishly retreats, closing its eyes for the night and waving a final goodbye  to the remaining stragglers. Your senses will be exhilarated, bursting with desire and passion as the late afternoon breeze whisks the delectable, spicy aromas of the butter chicken pies and waffle fries through the surrounding landscape. Taste buds tingle and hairs stand on end, shivering in excitement. Those distant yet comforting memories of being wrapped up in the marroon velvety blanket by the intimate fire surge through your mind, as the last bite thaws you from the inside out.