Descriptive Writing – Task: Invent a fifth season – Dylan Schweitnitz (1st Year)
I shuffled through the doorway and shut the heavy, oak door. The resounding bang of the door slamming seemed to alert everyone in the house to my presence.
“Jay? Is that you?” my sister called from the living room.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’ve got the monthly groceries.”
“Good. Leave them in the kitchen and get over here.” I entered the kitchen to find Ben rooting through the fridge. “What are you doing here, Ben? And why are you looking through my fridge?” I enquired.
“Well, since it’s that time of the year again, I decided that I wanted to stay with you guys for the next month,” replied Ben. I could hear my sister groan from the other room.
“We aren’t going to have enough food for the three of us,” I said.
“It’s ok. I brought food for myself.” Another groan from the living room. Even though Ben was my friend, I kind of agreed with my sister this time. Ben was a good friend, but he lacked the ability to think things through. Nothing I could say would deter him. He wanted to stay, and I couldn’t change his mind. I put the groceries away and shuffled into the living room where I welcomed a warming, soothing fire.
Outside the wind was picking up and ice was spreading across the windowpane. In the distance, I could make out a yeti howling at the sky. I could only make out one single yeti, which was unusual because the countryside is usually teeming with yeti folk, especially where we lived since we were near the snow-capped mountains and ice ridden forests. At this point the snowy landscape was becoming even more barren. The trees shrank and shrivelled until there was nothing left. Even the mighty evergreen tree could not persevere the seasons icy onslaught. The only tree that is left standing is the ice spike tree, a snowy white tree whose needles freeze the blood and sap causes pneumonia and frostbite. All that is left after the first blizzard are the trees, the mountains and the snow dunes. The longest night will fall over the world. The oceans will freeze over. The spell of ice and snow will fall over the land, temperatures will reach minus 90 degrees and we will be forced to stay inside for 32 days. This is the start of the fifth season. This is the start of Dypfryst.
Three days in and we see our first yeti close by. A monster at nine feet tall, the yeti supports a shaggy white coat with a blue hue, four-inch-long claws for ripping apart flesh, three-inch-long fangs, yellow eyes that can see in the dark, a pair of ebony curled horns and a spiked spine. They are immune to the effects of the ice spike tree and have a very high tolerance for the cold. They mostly hunt the snow deer and white rams. They also hunt ice coated wolves but normally leave them alone, because the wolves are usually in large packs. The only rival a yeti has is a Blutbär, or blood bear, but they live in Germany. A yeti only fears one thing. A thing worse than a blood bear. And that is an ice dragon.
Ice dragons are extremely rare. You might even say almost non-existent. But they’re real. As real as the blood pumping in your veins. As real as the eyes that you see through. I know, because I’ve seen one. They’re sixty metres long, with a head of around ten. Their skin is black with lightning blue streaks. And it’s the kind of black that is so dark it looks like nothing is there at all and you’re staring into oblivion. Their fangs are taller than a fully-grown adult. When they open their gigantic maw, they spray the land with a kind of cold that leaves you utterly devoid of warmth and soul alike. Their claws can tear holes in mountains. The spikes on their backs are jagged, pointed grey hillocks and their tail sports a spike large enough to skewer the moon. I saw it six years ago, looking out of the window in our old house. I saw it curled around a mountain top, sleeping among a sea of mangled, dead yeti folk.