silverlynx-
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Daily 24th March
421 words
Nestled in the side of a grassy hummock, a hobbit hole, wreathed in ivy. Through the creaking wooden door on rusty flaking hinges lay a sight of warmth and love.
The walls were a rich battered timber, as were the floors. Ancient nails stuck out from the floorboards and a coarse armchair sat on a vibrantly coloured rug, intricate patterns dancing across its shimmering surface. Stars hung from the ceiling, crumbling and fragmented, a spider web of cracks covering their wooden surfaces.
But the most impressive, awe-inspiring sight to see was the gnarled tree that was rooted to the floor in the middle of the room. Its twisted roots spread across the floor and sturdy branches reached out across the ceiling. Fairy lights were strung amongst the emerald leaves casting a soft glow across the room. A large hole in the wood was filled with cushions and pillows, and a hammock swayed from beneath the branches.
A dog barked roughly from inside the hole, its golden fur shining in the muted light. A roaring fire flickered across its angular face, illuminating a furry young face. Carved into the tree was a bookshelf, the worn-out books with frayed covers and dog-eared pages. A staircase wound around the trunk up into the attic where a small bed lay in the midst of the rafters. Woolly rugs and blankets were strewn across the floor and a small opening led to a bathroom. It was the only part of the hobbit hole that wasn't in wood. Instead there were hand-crafted tiles on the walls.
In a corner of the room was a tired wobbly desk, piles of thick parchment rolled up on top of it. Another fireplace adorned the room, this time a gaping black hole. A pale face peeked out from it. Inside was a winding tunnel leading to a cellar. Stashes of food on metal tabletops labelled carefully and precisely.
Back in the branches of a tree was a platform, stacks of sheet music assembled in precarious piles. A flute stood proudly on its stand, glittering harshly, a beacon of light. A ladder led down to a kitchen below, the tables splashed with ink and paint. Chipped plates, painted delicately with flowers and vines, clattered onto the floor as Silvi set to work on her latest artwork. Jasper (her dog) padded up to, his tail wagging back and forth wildly. She grinned and stroked his furry head. Misty light flooded into the room as Silvi wandered out of the room.
421 words
Nestled in the side of a grassy hummock, a hobbit hole, wreathed in ivy. Through the creaking wooden door on rusty flaking hinges lay a sight of warmth and love.
The walls were a rich battered timber, as were the floors. Ancient nails stuck out from the floorboards and a coarse armchair sat on a vibrantly coloured rug, intricate patterns dancing across its shimmering surface. Stars hung from the ceiling, crumbling and fragmented, a spider web of cracks covering their wooden surfaces.
But the most impressive, awe-inspiring sight to see was the gnarled tree that was rooted to the floor in the middle of the room. Its twisted roots spread across the floor and sturdy branches reached out across the ceiling. Fairy lights were strung amongst the emerald leaves casting a soft glow across the room. A large hole in the wood was filled with cushions and pillows, and a hammock swayed from beneath the branches.
A dog barked roughly from inside the hole, its golden fur shining in the muted light. A roaring fire flickered across its angular face, illuminating a furry young face. Carved into the tree was a bookshelf, the worn-out books with frayed covers and dog-eared pages. A staircase wound around the trunk up into the attic where a small bed lay in the midst of the rafters. Woolly rugs and blankets were strewn across the floor and a small opening led to a bathroom. It was the only part of the hobbit hole that wasn't in wood. Instead there were hand-crafted tiles on the walls.
In a corner of the room was a tired wobbly desk, piles of thick parchment rolled up on top of it. Another fireplace adorned the room, this time a gaping black hole. A pale face peeked out from it. Inside was a winding tunnel leading to a cellar. Stashes of food on metal tabletops labelled carefully and precisely.
Back in the branches of a tree was a platform, stacks of sheet music assembled in precarious piles. A flute stood proudly on its stand, glittering harshly, a beacon of light. A ladder led down to a kitchen below, the tables splashed with ink and paint. Chipped plates, painted delicately with flowers and vines, clattered onto the floor as Silvi set to work on her latest artwork. Jasper (her dog) padded up to, his tail wagging back and forth wildly. She grinned and stroked his furry head. Misty light flooded into the room as Silvi wandered out of the room.