Last week, we posted a call for all writers to get involved in WAG (it's not too late!). If you want to do this week's assignment, you still have time! The more, the merrier.
The challenge this week was to write about the sky, without using similes and metaphors. Doesn't sound that hard until you actually attempt to do it!
London is famous for grey. It's everywhere, from the faded, pollution-smeared buildings to the asphalt of the street. But the most unforgettable grey is that of the sky. So here it my take on this week's assignment:
Grey stretches across my sky, the red-brick chimneys barely visible through the thick haze. The ever-present airplanes are blotted out, leaving nothing except a bleached sky of paper-white to rat-grey. Sounds are muted under the heaviness of the shifting clouds -- even the screeching buses swoop by silently. Small drops of mist pool on a cast-iron fence, making the black shine wetly. I look up, hoping for rain, for anything, to break through. But the clouds continue their relentless smothering, and I flee inside.