Mist - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
And from the mist that hugged the earth, a comforting blanket that moved as serene water, there came bold purple petals of perfect form.
The mist swallowed the base of the cliff, it smothered the greens of the leaves, the grasses and the underbrush. It leached out their colour, turning everything the same stony grey as the rock.
The street looked as if God had taken an eraser and begun to remove the urban landscape that usually greeted her on the way to the factory; like he'd had a sudden crisis of perfectionism and decided to start again. But Lucy knew it wasn't true. Behind that thin white vapour lay another twelve hour day operating a machine to put rivets into new trackers. Perhaps that meant she was working for the enemy, but she had to eat and there was no other way to get the credits. As she neared the gates the mist outside became mirrored in her own mind, the day would be less awful if she just didn't think at all. She let it obliterate her thoughts so she could be the flesh and blood robot she was required to be.
The familiar sight of the town was made hazy by a mist and for a moment Jasper raised a hand to his face to check for his spectacles. They were there. This de-focused world was there for everyone and not just reserved for him. It was cold too, billions of icy vaporized drops blew down his neck and up the legs of his pants that flapped at least an inch above his ankles. It didn't just slowly drain his body heat it stole it the second it made contact. He hated being poor. The money for his new clothes had been spent repairing a leak in the roof and now he was stuck frozen to the marrow and looking like he borrowed from his kid brother.
The sun shone brilliantly white light through the thin mist.
The early morning mist had become a steady icy rain.
The mist thickened into a dense fog.
The silvery mist licked at every surface.
A bone-chilling mist clung to every surface in the early fall morning.
The mist whipped around them in the turbulent air.
The mist danced across the street, oblivous to the sun, slowly burning it away
Her hair clung dankly to her head in the fine mist.
The mist cleared up by mid-morning and the world came back into sharp relief.
As the fog dissipated, it turned into a simple mist. It was better, but it still felt like you were in a frigid steamroom with every breath.
Mists were crowding in the valleys, each bald mountain top shone like a jewel, and far aloft in the heavens were the white streamers of morn.
A fine mist rose from the damp fence in the relentless stream of early morning sunlight, the mist rose in smokey swirls, dissipating into the summer breeze.