Frappucinno – A Writing Sample: EDITED

A while ago I posted a writing sample, titled Frappucinno, which was something I wrote while reading Writing Magic: Creating Stories That Fly. So I decided to go back and edit it to improve, plus add a few cool tweaks!

This is from the perspective of a brown puppy in a place I will not tell you. Though, the location it’s describing is where I was writing this!

The air smells warm. Dark, and warmly brown, if scent can have a color. Richly sweet.

I stumble along on my four new paws. My pads sense the hard gray ground. It’s smooth like stones at a rocky beach. The campfire to have there is made with the tables: stumps of wood, polished and smooth. Other tables are evenly round and thin, sat on a rock-like pole. Metallic. A too-cold machine buzz-hums above on the low black sky. My nose detects more smells in the wind it blows. I shiver then skitter along.

Many two-legged animals with long fur on their heads sit on the soft seats next to the big tables. Besides beyond the large wall where most of the greed-clad two-legs work, the smells come mostly from here. Something drops from a person’s mouth. It hits the cold floor. I lick it with my pink tongue. It’s sweet and creamy; not like water or my usual brown pellets. It’s warm though, as much as the chilled floors will allow.

I turn my nose up. The low sky has many suns, but they’re small, more like tiny stars. They seem not much bigger than me. Rectangular tubes act as the clouds in the big sky, except that these ones are black, and they cary the cold wind the machine uses instead of rain.

I run to the far side of the room and leap up onto a cushioned seat next to my owner. He leans back from his scribbling and gives me a pat, then plops me on his warm lap. He strokes my brown pelt as I examine his work. Tiny black markings cover a lined white sheet; it smells of dust. I sneeze, then lick the paper. It tastes bad; like a musty piece of wood.

I leap back down, slip, then listen from the floor with my limbs sprawled out. The animals bark, purr, and growl loudly to one another in a way I can’t understand. A staticy voice dances in the air from dotted circles on the brown wood walls. More machines hum too, with the people’s slurping as the backdrop.

I turn my nose back to the high wall. There dozens of tall seats stand, only a few more quiet animals on them. They’re doing work like my owner. There seems no way in to the other side of the wall, at least from the bottom. I look for openings.

Suddenly I am lifted from behind. I yelp, then turn to see who’s holding me. It’s my owner again. He lifts me up high so I can see over the wood-topped counter.

Inside are the green-lad workers. They buzz around like worker bees in a hive, or is it the moving devices they use that buzz? From a few scarce ingredients of liquid and powder, they create steaming, freezing, or iced works of art. But what are their purposes?

My owner sits down and places me on the counter. The workers don’t seem happy about it, but my master gives them a red piece of paper and they’re fine. I lick the counter. It’s grainy and tastes like the drop I had before. The smell is strong. One of the masterpieces comes, this one chilly, made more so in the cold environment. Master takes a sip, then brings it to my snout. I place my small paws upon its edges as he takes the top off. The smell is dull, but I an taste the drink on my tongue already. I stick my nose in and practically inhale the creamy, icy mixture. There’s chunks of ice, with smooth perfection between.

“Funny,” my owner says, he the only two-legged animal I understand. Such is our bond. “I think I’ll call you Frappuccino.”

I wag my tail back and forth, withdrawing my face from the soft drink. I lick my nose and jump back down to the counter, watching the workers. One smiles at me, then gives me a pat.

How can I be in heaven if I was only just born?

Last post’s riddle solution: Peter, my good friend, contacted me personally with his own answer. He was *this* close! The answer is “we he went in his cage.”

This post’s riddle from The Hobbit:

A box without hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden treasure inside is hid.

What is it?

Good luck! Leave your answers in the comments! And if you know this already, so be it, but please no cheating! Don’t look up the answers until you’ve had a good try! Solutions next post! I know I used all exclamation points in this paragraph!

To God be the glory.

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