ice cream - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The ice cream fills up my vision, cold blocks in a multitude of hues, each one of them so frozen until a touch of warmth transforms them into sweetness.
At the ice cream parlour Danny stood with hands spread over the chilled glass like dark sea stars. If there had been three choices he would have picked one long ago, but the array put his mind into a happy tingle of possibilities. There wasn't just all the flavours, but all the possible combinations. At least the choice of cone was simple enough, a waffle cone dipped in chocolate with sprinkles. It didn't come cheap of course, but then reaching your fourth birthday is a reason to celebrate. After a few more moments he turned round to his Mom, "Mom, what should I get?" She smiled, it was hard even for her to know what to choose.
"Well," she said, "chocolate is always my favourite, perhaps with some pistachio and sauce on top?" Danny nodded, his grin instant.
Mila always said Travis was a freak. On the days that had everyone else frozen and heading for the nearest hot chocolate or coffee, he was off for ice cream at the creamery. With gloved hands she'd tug him towards the corner cafe and he'd pretend he didn't feel a thing. Then when they reached the glass front he'd just stop, staring at all the flavours. Then he'd turn to her with that face she could never refuse, his breath rising in miniature clouds and despite the frigid day she'd melt. A few minutes later they'd have a large raspberry sundae between them and two long handled silver spoons. After one bite all was forgiven, even in its coldness the reality was utter bliss.
Ever since I could remember going for ice cream was an adventure. Even after we had decided where it get it and how to get there walking into the black and white tile floored parlor gave us goosebumps probably from the ever-present cold but also from the excitement of the idea of peanut Oreo swirl or double mint chocolate ice cream, for god's sake we were 16 and 17 years old, but even when the idea that ice cream could enter the picture, gave us a joy that most people couldn't understand.
After only a few minutes in the sun the ice cream had begun to melt, Cindy watched it until there was a golf ball sized lump in the middle and then stirred rapidly with her spoon. Perfect. She never liked to eat it when it was so cold, the flavour just didn't come through right. She grinned down at the ceramic bowl of desert, and picked up her favourite long handled spoon. She wondered if she'd still be doing this in fifty years, probably, why change perfection?
The ice-cream freezer was stacked high with all of Marcia's favourites, chocolate peanut butter, raspberry ripple and tin roof sundae...but there were more, so many more! As her breath fogged up the glass another shopper cut in front of her reaching in decisively. She took a step back and waited until they were gone, this wasn't something she liked to rush. With hands in the pockets of her winter parka she walked up and down, looking at the prices as well as the flavour. Finally she decided that nothing beats praline and pecan. With the store music playing softly behind the noise of the shoppers and tills, she laughed internally at the stupid covers of the magazines...
Chocolate with Chocolate Covered Coconut Bits and Marshmallow Swirl
Vanilla with Maraschino Cherries, Cake Pieces and Cherry Swirl
Vanilla with Peaches, Nectarines and Red Raspberry Sauce
Apple Cobbler Crunch
Cinnamon Apple with Pie Pieces and Apple Sauce Swirl
Gabrielle quickly licked the ice-cream to right it, it had begun to slump precariously to one side and there was nothing worse than loosing an entire scoop to the dirty sidewalk. As usual she dawdled in the way home, looking at the wall for new graffiti. This part of the city would never be like those polished upper class neighbourhoods, but they had the best creamery on either side of the bridge and fine artwork spray painted each nightfall. Perhaps one day she'd make a tag of her own, step out in her cheap black leggings from the market and her hair in a pony tail. She smirked at the idea, maybe next time one of the walls got painted over by the city she'd give it a go. In her daydream a drop of Strawberry made it onto her t-shirt, with a finger she scooped it up. She frowned momentarily at the pink stain before spying Pia across the street. She raised her hand, "Yo, Pia!"