Boys - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The boys are perfect fiery sparks, playing under a sky with the glow of a hearth. They are the joy that dances and the light of their mother's soul, these sons that shine so brightly day and night. It is their laughter that radiates outward, the same as ripples from a bouncing stone, and their sweetness is as much the warmth of the evening as the rosy-gold rays.
Every day that summer the boys played as if every drop of daylight were sacred, as if the next day the sun might stay in its heavenly bed. Of course the brilliant white rays came to rouse them from their slumber more early than they wished the next day and after a hasty breakfast they were tearing around the neighbourhood with laughter louder than the birdsong.
The boys were all instant smiles. Their energy spilled out just as much as the drinks in their cups and every other noise was their laughter. It was as if fun was printed in their DNA and all it took was a little sunshine and a dash of sugar to bring that out.
Nana would shake her head and say "Boys!" as if it were a bad thing, but always there was a twitch of a smile. It was as if their exuberance gave her new life also, as if it settled on her gnarled skin and reminded her of what it was like to be young.
Even given just a script of their conversation, with no context or voices, you would know they were boys. The task directed conversation was interrupted only by jokes, often at the expense of one of their friends. Yet from the dialogue that followed it was clear that no offence had been taken, quite the contrary. They enjoyed the banter, the witty and not-so-witty put-downs. They teased and jibbed one moment and discussed team strategy the next, taking one another seriously and giving well thought responses. But the sensible talk could never last too long, like it was scheduled by an egg timer. Soon the hilarity would start all over again. Were they in class it would be enough to drive any teacher crazy, but in Edward's Dad's garage they were their own bosses. There was no teacher, just a bunch of teenagers who brought the best out of each other.
The boys gathered around the putrid hole poking at it with sticks. The first one to load enough mud would chase the others with it. Between each laugh or cat-call every face had a wide grin. Were they not in old shirts they would have found their mothers descending on them in a fury. Their glee was so intoxicating that no-one noticed Samuel behind the little porch swing, a tangle of jutting limbs just small enough to be concealed. Only his well shined shoes could have given him away through the gap beneath it, but the wild action drew everyone's attention. In another hour the daylight waned to twilight and the warmth drained out of the air as fast as an extinguished camp fire. When Samuel's mother arrived she was greeted with surprise. "Why, Samuel never came today! You must be mistaken!" She had blanched and swayed on the spot. She had dropped him off herself four hours previously. Just when she might have fainted he came skidding out in his smart pressed shirt and white pants.
Suddenly, he gave a yell, raced furiously ahead and leapt up at an overhanging bough. There he swung, thin legs jerking, the white, thick-soled running shoes looking incongruously heavy for the bony legs. He was given to these sudden spurts of activity, running ahead to hide among the bushes and jump out at her, leaping across puddles, rummaging for broken bottles and cans in the ditch and hurling them with a desperate intensity into the water.
They jostled and banged for the best seats...taunted each other...endlessly competed to see who could spit farther, drink rum faster or belch the loudest.
The rabbit in Todd's yard is as about as far removed from a wild bunny as I am from Einstein. It just sits there eating, ignoring us "predators" as we approach. It's so round I laugh, "That is one fat hopper!" Todd grins and opens the hatch to put in more carrots.
"Yeah, man. Like you can talk. How many tonnes is that mutt of yours? Anyway, in the zombie apocalypse I can eat her. What's your excuse?" He has a point, Sandy is a barrel on legs. But he's not getting off that easy. I make a grimace, like I just hate to tell him the truth.
"You know a football with fur'd be more attractive. Maybe if we just cut the ears off..."
Todd looks at me, face screwed up like he's got some internal debate going on. "I think you'd look better without a face, how about we take that off before we do surgery on Lisa's rabbit?"
I nod grimly. "You're right. We should. But I'd hate for you to be left out. Let's improve your odds in next weeks math test by giving you the rabbit's brain..."