Swirling around me, I could see nothing. The world was gone and I was alone in the mist. My heart raced as I searched and called for you. I was frightened. There was nothing familiar in this alien place, transformed by the fog. And then I saw a shape. It moved toward me and I cringed, expecting danger. But, there you were, standing in front of me. And I loved you… But then you disappeared and I once again had to fend for myself. I hate you for leaving me alone in the mist.
virginia woolf once mentioned mist as a spreading over trees, a metaphor for clarissa dalloway. what does that make septimus?
Ifra
Mist, rain with little substance. A wall of purities. MIst can provoke emotions such as fear or happiness.
ricky
The little hope I had left was much like mist of my dreams shattering on the rocky shores of disappointment, clinging to my clammy skin. Just enough to remind me of their former grandeur and beauty…and to hate them all the more.
I could still hear the rustling, but could see nothing through the mist save the ominous form of a dark figure. Tall, menacing, with an air of darkness that seemed to protrude from him, rather than follow meekly behind.
The little hope I had left was much like mist of my dreams shattering on the rocky shores of disappointment. Just enough to remind me of their former grandeur and beauty…and to hate them all the more.
Haley
She walked through the mist on that sad spring morning. Her eye lashes covered with the sparkling dew.
Aly
In the dreamlike mist, just beyond the sunny day, I dream of an uncomplicated, simple life.
The fog falling slowly around me, settling… the beach is beautiful at dusk, but in the night, there is something, someone there… Suddenly I’m embraced in a hug… it’s fantastic. The mist envelops us as he envelops me, and all is well in the world.
Susi
Through the cold morning mist, she saw the man approach. A dark, languid shadow at first but soon she could discern a crooked smile upon his thin lips.
Mist rolled off the lake, covering the lowest branches of trees with a blanket of pretend snow. I watched my feet as I walked toward it, leaving small marks in the frost covered ground and fields as I soldiered to the bus stop.
Heather
as she lay there, with her head on the pillow… the window seemed to be fogged up with the intensity of the rooms heat, yet all it was , was the morning mist that coverted the rolling hills of emptiness
layla
Through the mist I saw him standing there. Alone. Not looking at me. Not looking down. But searching for my heart. Searching for our connection that had broken so long ago. We were going to find each other.
Meghan
The word was mist yesterday. I wonder if it’s ever going to change. There’s only so many times I can be inspired by a single prompt. I need a new word really bad.
Standing in the mist was a fair haired girl and she looked back at me and it plain to the world that I shouldn’t mess with her while her mind was in a whirl; probably better to just leave while I still had a chance.
She appeared to Myles through the mist. Silver droplets clung to her hair as she approached and her long sheer gown sparkled. “My God,” he breathed awestruck. “I’ve waited for you all my life.” “Shhh,” Marianna whispered as her arms snaked around him. “The time for talking is over.”
Izolda
They emerged from the mist in a comically dramatic fashion: hips swaying, backs so erect that they bent in a backward arc, lips twisted in a look of deep derision.
the mist was swirling around my feet, the silence was eerie but I wasn’t scared. At least not yet I wasn’t scared… not while there was a chance that she would come and save me from myself.
Emma
the mist rolled off the sea and over the boat. I was under it and i could see nothing. It was cold to the touch and I felt my skin start to prickle as the mist enveloped me, locking me in and slowly taking away my breath
tkroache
hate
Thahany
I wrote about mist yesterday, or I think I did anyway. Maybe this is all my imagination, from some faded dream in my subconcious, the dream that says, ‘keep writing, you haven’t written in so long. keep writing. it’s all you have left. Nothing else.’
kathryn
The soft breeze caressed my face… it was a cold day, and the mist from the nearby lake was gentle, and cool upon my furrowed brow.
Paris
It crept in. A visible force rolling over the ground towards the pair bringing with it blindness of their surroundings. It was no use. They had no hope of finding the lodge now. The snow bites through their clothes freezing right to the bone. Despair washes through them just as the mist laps at their feet leaving them almost invisible to each other despite being just an arms length apart. They would have to wait it out. Without being able to see they were more likely to step off the cliffs jaggered edge rather than find the lodge and safety. The mist settled around them leaving them clutching each other freezing.
It faded inward and outward, as though taunting everything within it. Shrouding their view, engulfing their minds and penetrating their senses. Danger loomed at every corner; and the pressing mist simply yawned in weary anticipation.
Kat
Der nebel rollt ünber das Meer daher, geheimnissvoll, unheimlich, romantisch. ein Mixgetränk. ich fühle mich wohl, Mondschein, rehe, wiese
Minze
Yesterday was a mist wiped from memory with no lasting impressions.
gino
Dusting over the backyard fence. Pale, white, cold. A bitter cold. It was beautiful, but painful to the touch and almost burnt your fingers red.
the feeling of being forgotten, of being lost, without any hope of rescue, the point where even god has clouded his vision of you, and that you are completely alone
Brandon Mendoza
mist is really funny u can hide person who is trying to find u. And it means empty. And danger . Because its hard to see something when there is mist.
tuana
Mist is visually foggy, so it’s often used for that same effect in movies, or even in literature. It took me awhiles to realize that it’s just a cloud. I wanted to walk on poufy clouds, but it would really just be like having my head in mist, and I’d fall right through.
Its bellows its heavy sigh. No one knows. No one cares. The feeling is amazing enough to see past all the hurt.
Doc
The trees are choked in mist, gathering fog in their branches, dripping with dew and sap, and gathering leaves at their roots, getting ready for winter, getting ready to nap in the cool of the morning, before the sun comes and robs them of their majesty.
my mind is just so misty right now… it’s nice… cooling…. and very enjoyable… however, it would be even better when you my sunshine will appear as well.
P
The mist is very think & mist is very cold. Through the mist you can not see much. The Sun comes throught the mist and the mist dissapears
Chantal Oliphant
The mist caressed my face as I speared through it, a determined morning walker in the park. An elderly woman sat on a bench off to side, face blank and expressionless. As I passed her, I couldn’t help but wonder why the wizened women sat in the cold, holding her purse on her lap in such a formal manner, as if waiting for the day to come and greet her personally.
Secluded beneath the fibers of this pillowcase made of silk. A part of you—a memory—of what is left to remind me of days in summer is not as clear as it’s supposed to be. Scotch mist, I’ll only see you after the drizzle.
illusions and reality.
the eyes deceive you…
this is the mist:
purple and poisonous,
it surrounds you
stealing your breath
and with it your mind
untill you’re a shell
with white eyes
and a empty heart.
Swirling around me, I could see nothing. The world was gone and I was alone in the mist. My heart raced as I searched and called for you. I was frightened. There was nothing familiar in this alien place, transformed by the fog. And then I saw a shape. It moved toward me and I cringed, expecting danger. But, there you were, standing in front of me. And I loved you… But then you disappeared and I once again had to fend for myself. I hate you for leaving me alone in the mist.
virginia woolf once mentioned mist as a spreading over trees, a metaphor for clarissa dalloway. what does that make septimus?
Mist, rain with little substance. A wall of purities. MIst can provoke emotions such as fear or happiness.
The little hope I had left was much like mist of my dreams shattering on the rocky shores of disappointment, clinging to my clammy skin. Just enough to remind me of their former grandeur and beauty…and to hate them all the more.
I could still hear the rustling, but could see nothing through the mist save the ominous form of a dark figure. Tall, menacing, with an air of darkness that seemed to protrude from him, rather than follow meekly behind.
The little hope I had left was much like mist of my dreams shattering on the rocky shores of disappointment. Just enough to remind me of their former grandeur and beauty…and to hate them all the more.
She walked through the mist on that sad spring morning. Her eye lashes covered with the sparkling dew.
In the dreamlike mist, just beyond the sunny day, I dream of an uncomplicated, simple life.
The fog falling slowly around me, settling… the beach is beautiful at dusk, but in the night, there is something, someone there… Suddenly I’m embraced in a hug… it’s fantastic. The mist envelops us as he envelops me, and all is well in the world.
Through the cold morning mist, she saw the man approach. A dark, languid shadow at first but soon she could discern a crooked smile upon his thin lips.
Damn, the bottle of nasal mist is empty and I can’t breathe. I hate stupid, summer-colds.
Mist up your life with super fresh ideas.
Mist rolled off the lake, covering the lowest branches of trees with a blanket of pretend snow. I watched my feet as I walked toward it, leaving small marks in the frost covered ground and fields as I soldiered to the bus stop.
as she lay there, with her head on the pillow… the window seemed to be fogged up with the intensity of the rooms heat, yet all it was , was the morning mist that coverted the rolling hills of emptiness
Through the mist I saw him standing there. Alone. Not looking at me. Not looking down. But searching for my heart. Searching for our connection that had broken so long ago. We were going to find each other.
The word was mist yesterday. I wonder if it’s ever going to change. There’s only so many times I can be inspired by a single prompt. I need a new word really bad.
Standing in the mist was a fair haired girl and she looked back at me and it plain to the world that I shouldn’t mess with her while her mind was in a whirl; probably better to just leave while I still had a chance.
She appeared to Myles through the mist. Silver droplets clung to her hair as she approached and her long sheer gown sparkled. “My God,” he breathed awestruck. “I’ve waited for you all my life.” “Shhh,” Marianna whispered as her arms snaked around him. “The time for talking is over.”
They emerged from the mist in a comically dramatic fashion: hips swaying, backs so erect that they bent in a backward arc, lips twisted in a look of deep derision.
the mist was swirling around my feet, the silence was eerie but I wasn’t scared. At least not yet I wasn’t scared… not while there was a chance that she would come and save me from myself.
the mist rolled off the sea and over the boat. I was under it and i could see nothing. It was cold to the touch and I felt my skin start to prickle as the mist enveloped me, locking me in and slowly taking away my breath
hate
I wrote about mist yesterday, or I think I did anyway. Maybe this is all my imagination, from some faded dream in my subconcious, the dream that says, ‘keep writing, you haven’t written in so long. keep writing. it’s all you have left. Nothing else.’
The soft breeze caressed my face… it was a cold day, and the mist from the nearby lake was gentle, and cool upon my furrowed brow.
It crept in. A visible force rolling over the ground towards the pair bringing with it blindness of their surroundings. It was no use. They had no hope of finding the lodge now. The snow bites through their clothes freezing right to the bone. Despair washes through them just as the mist laps at their feet leaving them almost invisible to each other despite being just an arms length apart. They would have to wait it out. Without being able to see they were more likely to step off the cliffs jaggered edge rather than find the lodge and safety. The mist settled around them leaving them clutching each other freezing.
It faded inward and outward, as though taunting everything within it. Shrouding their view, engulfing their minds and penetrating their senses. Danger loomed at every corner; and the pressing mist simply yawned in weary anticipation.
Der nebel rollt ünber das Meer daher, geheimnissvoll, unheimlich, romantisch. ein Mixgetränk. ich fühle mich wohl, Mondschein, rehe, wiese
Yesterday was a mist wiped from memory with no lasting impressions.
Dusting over the backyard fence. Pale, white, cold. A bitter cold. It was beautiful, but painful to the touch and almost burnt your fingers red.
the feeling of being forgotten, of being lost, without any hope of rescue, the point where even god has clouded his vision of you, and that you are completely alone
mist is really funny u can hide person who is trying to find u. And it means empty. And danger . Because its hard to see something when there is mist.
Mist is visually foggy, so it’s often used for that same effect in movies, or even in literature. It took me awhiles to realize that it’s just a cloud. I wanted to walk on poufy clouds, but it would really just be like having my head in mist, and I’d fall right through.
Its bellows its heavy sigh. No one knows. No one cares. The feeling is amazing enough to see past all the hurt.
The trees are choked in mist, gathering fog in their branches, dripping with dew and sap, and gathering leaves at their roots, getting ready for winter, getting ready to nap in the cool of the morning, before the sun comes and robs them of their majesty.
my mind is just so misty right now… it’s nice… cooling…. and very enjoyable… however, it would be even better when you my sunshine will appear as well.
The mist is very think & mist is very cold. Through the mist you can not see much. The Sun comes throught the mist and the mist dissapears
The mist caressed my face as I speared through it, a determined morning walker in the park. An elderly woman sat on a bench off to side, face blank and expressionless. As I passed her, I couldn’t help but wonder why the wizened women sat in the cold, holding her purse on her lap in such a formal manner, as if waiting for the day to come and greet her personally.
Secluded beneath the fibers of this pillowcase made of silk. A part of you—a memory—of what is left to remind me of days in summer is not as clear as it’s supposed to be. Scotch mist, I’ll only see you after the drizzle.
illusions and reality.
the eyes deceive you…
this is the mist:
purple and poisonous,
it surrounds you
stealing your breath
and with it your mind
untill you’re a shell
with white eyes
and a empty heart.
Mist. Always reminds me of this long, lonely walk I took around Lake Mathers in New Zealand…