The green grass was about the height of my waist, as I was exploring the mysterious open meadows just behind the cabin. At times, it would seem like the land would stretch forever into the distance. Everywhere and every direction I turned I could see the bright blue, cloudless sky above the fresh land covered in tall grass and thousands of dandelions. 

     I looked down at my wrist. 2 o’clock, my watch had read. It had been stuck at this time for days, as it’s battery had died. It was too significant to throw away, I could never take it off.

     As the warm summer breeze guested around my body I could smell the fresh afternoon wind. It had a nostalgic feeling to it, even though I had just moved to these mountains several months ago. 

     It was so dreamy, everything felt surreal and perfect. In the distance, I could spot out a mountain range, even thought it hardly stood out. As I turned around the start heading back to the chain, I heard a faint sound. 

     ”Is that… a train?” I thought to myself.

     Indeed it was. A train in the meadows. It was getting closer, and louder. Just as it seemed to be right behind me, I woke up.

     ”It was all just a dream. Just a dream.” I quietly whispered, followed by a deep, heavy sigh.

Three small windows, all slightly cracked open, patiently waiting for the frequent ocean breeze to roll in. Nearby songs of birds and the faint symphonies of the gentle waves crashing, one after the other seeped inside. The cluttered room was overtaken with the silent darkness of dim lights, hardly illuminating anything. Bed unmade, drawers open, and clothes scattered all around the the unvacuumed floor.

I like how in the second story I get to guess what the experience was. I thought the imagry was a nice, and while it didn't really leave much of a challage, it still let me have a few options of my own to imagine. I'm not exactly sure what this thread is about exactly. Are you making stories of experiences that intrest you?

No, the thread title is not relevant to the posts.

I'll be posting short images painted with words I write from time to time.

All alone, quietly observing my surroundings. Nowadays I can’t tell if I’m awake of dreaming - and to be honest, I’d prefer to be dreaming. It’s that kind of silence where it’s so quiet, it’s loud.

I’m in the deep woods sitting on a large mossy rock alongside an old unused trail. The only audible sound is the pine trees, swaying in the wind. And just like that, the scenery dissolved right in front of me. I’m now resting on a white bench in a small, confined, completely white room. There’s a grey metal door to the left of my, with a small square window in the center.

I get up, and as soon as I touch the door, it disappeared instantly. I don’t like it here. I can hear heavy machines through the thins walls, as if I’m in a quiet factory. As I stand in the door frame, a man with a long white coat, black leather boots, and thick glasses quickly passes right in front of me, without turning his head.

A few seconds past after he had left  my view, so I took a step out and turned to the right, to see where he was going. But nothing, nothing was there. No man, no hallway, no anything. Just blank white.

Oak! :D

I don't know what to say, other than the stories are like word imagery. It's like prose, but more awesome. Cool to see you again, though, Bro.

Thanks! Nice to see you again, man.

Sunshine slowly seeped through the small dirty windows of the two wooden, wide open doors. The house faces towards the meadow, where millions of dandelions would quietly dance to the breeze, swaying with each gust of wind. The old wood floor creeped with every silent step, every slight movement of the Earth. A wore down rocking chair sat on the porch, ever so slowly rocking back and forth, being pushed by the gusts. Several wind chimes glistened softly at the top corner of the porch, as birds glided by and chirped their songs away.