ledge - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There was a stone ledge at the end of the corridor, and Tobias wouldn’t even have noticed it as he was walking blindly. Amber thrust an arm out, stopping Tobias from plummeting down to his death.
Tobias opened his mouth to speak, but Amber put a finger against her lips. She pointed downwards, below the ledge. Tobias looked towards the direction of her finger, and what met his eyes was the weirdest sight he had ever seen. A dark, foul mist shrouded the area, but rising up from the fog was a slab of skyscraping obsidian that literally reached up to the roof the cave.
The ledge was more like a rocky outcrop, rustic and rough. It was in keeping with the building, only three years old but made to look as if it were ancient. The rocks had been trucked in from some quarry up north and the builders had to consult with old-fashioned brick layers to get the rock facade right. It was all steel and concrete underneath of course, but from out here it looked like it just grew right out of the ground. On the ledge should have been pigeons, peering down in the way they do, looking for pedestrians dropping fragments of their breakfasts. But in the frosted dawn-light the ledge is layered with roses, red, white and pink. It could be a romantic gesture from some eccentric billionaire, but it isn't. It's one rose for day of the empresses' life...
The ledge was as wide as a single foot and with all the grip of black ice. It went right around the building, some sort of architect's decoration, smooth dark granite against the dyed beige concrete walls. Most certainly it was never designed to be walked on, never to take even the weight of a child, and Evan was no child. The tallest of his high-school class he graced six feet and had been lovingly called a “husky” boy by his mother. He took a look down. The people on the sidewalk were as big as the little soldiers he used to keep in a biscuit tin. He glanced around the room, his eyes searching for somewhere, anywhere that might hide him. James Bond would have some clever wheeze, hang from the ceiling or in the canopy of a four poster bed. No such luck. Even if had the equipment a life spent eating pizza and playing video games hadn't equipped him for this. He looked down again. One wrong move and he wasn't going to get the chance to "play again". No second lives.
The ledge was no more than a rectangle of concrete. The surface was slimy and with some moss and lichen clinging to it. It was no deeper than my foot. I searched for hand holds and there were none. Suddenly the street seemed a long way down, yet if this was a beam in gymnastics I wouldn't hesitate.