A Story in Technicolor :: Short Story Creative Writing

A Story in Technicolor Standing waist-deep in saw grass, a flawless graysky framing an unrealscene where river and reeds become indistinguishable,Karen gazed unimpressed. The sublime natureof this ecological experience bordering so unbelievably close to herown urban existence did not seep into her mentality or psyche. Perhaps the seven applications of gel she had put on her hairsbreadth that morning in order to prevent as much frizziness as possible was impeding the correct reaction, but thats not likely. Much more than probable is the inference that Karen was not an outdoors type of person, in fact, save the most serenely beautiful sunsets ever tempted her to hike outside, and the Everglades with its apparently dull landscape was not reservation even a dent of an impression. not to mention that it was raining, ruthlessly pouring down on her and the rest of her class, making her gel effort of the morning practic all toldy useless. She wasnt even really standing(a) in the s aw grass it felt more like she was unnoticeably sinking into the mucky bottom. Sure, she might imagine that she could move nigh on the spongy surface but, in truth, she knew that if she remained immobile for more than a minute, the undercoat would commence to slowly swallow her, drowning her inch by inch. She moved around uncomfortably. Always acutely aware of her lack of balance, ever since a ballet teacher had pointed it out to her, Karen now felt as if her woman-child inadequacies were on safe display. Her eyes darted sloppily around to see if anyone noticed her ineptitude in the new terrain and quickly looked down as she realized they were all withal enthralled in their own conversations and eloquated experiences of nature to pay any look to her. Isnt this great?, she heard one girl say. I cant believe all of this is so close to where I live and Id never been here before. there really should be more educational awareness programs. I question why I was never taken o n a cogitation trip to the Everglades? Wouldnt it be challenging if our school became involved with primary schools to, whether this curly-haired utterer went on a diatribe in response to the first girls state or simply for the sake of talking was beyond Karen. She lost quest rather quickly in their conversation and rather unstealthfully moved apart from them, refusing to hear the rest of the genuinely exciting questions and remarks.