glass of water - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The glass of water had a layer of dust coating the surface and dust also lay on the rim. It was tall had the appearance of something expensive. It was dull and on the sides were greasy finger marks. But whoever made them was long gone. The detective picked the glass up in a gloved hand and applied his fine powder. If he could lift a print this mystery might be a step closer to being solved. Cold cases were the worst. Then he took a sample of the liquid within. It was probably water from the faucet but it didn't hurt to check it out. Then leaving nothing on the table but the dark shiny ring where the drink had been, he moved on to check the rest of the crime scene.
The water is cloudy, chlorinated and warmer than my hand. The surface lacks the usual tension, possibly from the weight of fine debris. Knowing what the dust around here is made from after the bombings it makes me gag just to think of drinking it, but what else is there? I close my hand tighter around the glass and raise it off the table toward my cracking lips. It's people soup. I lower it un-drunk, my throat now leathery and coarse. Even if there were another person around to speak to I doubt I could utter a sound. Perhaps if I can make it to the mountains there will be glacier melt water, blue, clear, cold. I won't make it like this though, not beyond thirsty and well into dehydration. In one motion I raise the glass and chug it down before clasping both hands over my mouth to keep it in.
The water sits cooly in the glass before me, condensation beading the outside. I run my finger around it as if slicing the top off and watch the transparent "blood" drip to the pristine mirrored table below. In this white on white room of feminine perfection that my mother has created I want to paint the walls red, but I am forbidden to drop even a crumb lest I spoil her magazine cover replica of relaxation.
Perspiration forms and trickles down a cold glass of water. The colourless liquid quivers slightly in its container.
~ Lee Maddocks
The glass was crystal clear but for a tiny chip on the rim, the fog created by my breath and the smudged finger marks. The water crisp and cool. My mouth dry and lips cracked from lack of fluid. The glass was a beautiful sight and the water even more so.
I stared at the surface of the clear water sleeping in the cup. A loud boom came from down the hallway. The water jumped clear out of the glass. Another boom, and another jump. The next time the water jumped, the glass tipped and spilled across the table and onto Alex's lap.