heat wave - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Her skin was glistening and the nape of her neck damp as she lifted the ice cold glass of sweet tea to her mouth. This was her first Georgia summer and she wasn't sure if she could stand the sweltering heat of summer. Although her husband seemed to be thriving in it. She knew it would be better for his health to be away from the extreme cold of the Maine but come on...this? This made it difficult to breathe.
It was summer in the city. The avenue was lined with the deep green foliage that stood still in the August heat wave. Lisa dawdled in their shadows before letting the sunrays heat her unguarded shoulders. She loved the heat but the shade in-between gave her the rest-bite she needed. As she descended the gentle slope she wanted to skip like she did as a girl, but instead she walked. Twenty somethings just don't skip – right? On every doorstep was a free paper, lying still, in no danger of being blown away. Then from around the corner came the familiar sight of Jack, his head bobbing along, buds popped into his ears. A slow grin spread over her face, a chance to have a little fun. In the otherwise empty street she crossed to the centre line, walking a wide arc until she was behind him. Little by little she snuck closer until she could shout “Boo!” He turned with a face that was just priceless before laughing in the way only he could.
I strolled up a large hill as the summer breeze pushed past. Looking up, I saw the sun shine brighter than I ever knew before. I saw a tree in the distance glisten gently as it reflected the sun's rays. My consciousness ebbed away with the heat. I took a few blinks before I landed with a thud.
In England it's usually cold but not this day, today the sun was at full blast, and I just wished that someone would turn it down, I was dripping sweat from my head to my toe.
You woke up sweaty, you went to bed sweaty, you got out of the shower sweaty. It was like a horrible ever present heat that lasted day in and day out from late May until late September, and it certainly did not help when the locals would say, "oh you'll get used to it." I didn't want to get used to it I wanted to go home.
A lone drop of sweat made it's way down my back, leaving a trail of temporary coolness in its wake. I squirmed in my seat as my brain was made to do pushups, trying to solve the math problem that earlier had looked deceptively simple.
In this heat even the trees appear defeated. Leaves that should be firm and upward tilting droop, flaccid as old lettuce. The soil isn't simply dry, but powdery to the touch. Grass that is always green until August is hay by early July. Even the air is dry, not the usual humid warmth we have at this time of the year. Each day the sky is barren, though of late the forest fires have stolen our endless blue for a dull grey and each evening brings us a blood sun. Two days ago some rain fell, large warm drops that disappeared as soon as they struck the hot tarmac or else sucked into the dusty mud not leaving a trace. We had such little winter that the fall leaves still litter the ground and I can't help but wonder if this season's greenery will even make it till autumn. Already above my head flutters gold where it should be nothing but robust virescent hues. In a few months those colours would lift my spirit, but not now. They should be dark, not this insipid tone, fuelling the tree for the winter ahead. This part of the world should never be so arid and we can only hope that the late summer will be kinder.
Any tree that'd been in the ground less than two years lost every single leaf, they just died, slowly. The sun was no longer our summertime friend, it was an oppressive presence that sapped the energy out of every living thing. We were desiccated from every pore, our water escaping to a cloudless sky. Even the birds didn't sing, no doubt afraid to open their beaks in the soaring temperatures. As the reserves ran dry every fountain and pool was drained, all uses for water other than drinking were banned.