Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Showcase: Lucia Echecopar: Descriptive Piece


Lucia intrigues me. Not only does she have a gorgeous name, but she also dreams big and lives in Peru. How cool is that? She wrote a descriptive piece for us today. This is the first sample of her writing I've seen, and I have to tell you: I'm impressed! Descriptive pieces are tough to write. Often, they're used as a sentence crafting exercise, or something of that nature. When presented as a stand-alone piece, it's exceedingly hard to keep your reader's attention with description. Lucia, I believe, did marvelously! I so love her descriptions of her grandmother's home, her bubbly point of view, and her writing style. Let's welcome her warmly!


The room at the end of the hall resembled a picture of times now past, like a moment or a memory stuck in time, preserved by the owner's hesitance towards remodeling. It could be that this hesitance was born out of the desperate need to hold on to something that was familiar, to feel the comfort it provided every time she stepped inside; or it could just be because of a deep dislike of inviting strangers into her home, even if it was for a task as harmless as repainting the walls.

The stark white of the roof remained unchanged, though it had accumulated an impressive collection of cracks that painted an intricate spider web on its surface. A small light sat on the center of the ceiling, like a spider guarding its lair, emanating a faint yellow glow that tried to light up the whole room.

The walls were a plain smoke color, tinted with a little hint of blue that had faded along with time. A lonely frame hung on the wall at the right hand side of the wide window, depicting a dreary scene of two women walking along a cobbled street on a rural area. There was a thin strip of dark wood attached to the wall and adjacent to the floor, a clear indicator of how old the room was because that particular style of decoration was not used anymore.

On the opposite wall there was a tall bookcase, painted white like the roof. It held many books whose worn spines held mysteries unsolved and words forgotten; they were organized in no particular order, having been placed on the shelves in the order in which they had been bought, creating a colorful mix of books of different heights and widths. A few photographs were scattered in front of the, side by side with home-made pieces of pottery.

The only object that was out of place in the room was the modern television that sat next to the bookcase, in front of the bed below the painting. That was the product of the one time she had relented, and let strangers come in and set it up for her - though it must be said that she did stand by the door every second - peering at them from behind narrowed eyelids and barking orders when something did not go as she liked.

The bed was small, covered with a slate grey comforter. There were two fluffed pillows at the top, covering a simple green pajama that the woman wore to bed. It looked to be messily made, a very uncommon situation for such an organized person.

The window was covered with rusty metal bars, a memory that remained from the times when terrorism was at its peak. It was covered with dusty cream curtains, guarding the small room from the outside world. Outside the window, a few flowers that brightened the atmosphere with their intense purple color.

The final piece of the room was the closet. It had horrible golden handles that squeaked every time they were turned, and when the door was pulled open it creaked. The inside was furnished with wood, covered with scratches and marks from many careless incidents that no one quite remembers anymore.

All in all, the room painted a very dull picture. It showed that times past must remain just there, in the past, and that they should not be dragged into the present. It showed what the owner's family had been trying to tell her all this time, that memories were to be remembered and while that could be fine, it did her no good to live in her memories.


Be sure to leave this lovely young lady some love and encouragement in the comments section. Also, don't forget to enter the giveaway I'm running here on my blog before it ends. Thanks so much for being here, Lucia! It's been a pleasure! The best of luck in your future writing endeavors. 


3 comments:

  1. Wow! Stephanie is right. That is some very impressive writing!

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  2. This is so amazing!!!! I love the part about the "rusty metal bars... guarding the small room from the outside world." This poetic-descriptive piece I think is so good it could come from a Sherlock Holmes story because of the mystery, or the book The Book Thief because of its entangling-picture-painting words that create a piece better than Shakespeare!!!!!!!

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  3. Peru! I would love to be friends with Lucia--I've lived in Peru for several months at a time! I'm half-Peruvian myself. :) What a lovely piece of writing!

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