Setting a Scene, Like Kafka!

C: James loved the kitchen, loved the aroma presented by the food being made. He could see the sun shining through the glass windows, reflecting off of the pots and pans sitting on the counter. In the front yard, he could hear the birds chirping, singing their song on the tiny tree branches barely able to hold many of the birds up. He walked towards the sliding doors which connected the living room and kitchen, felt the slippery and wet floor on his bare feet and assumed his it had just been mopped. He stepped forward and nearly slipped but managed to grab onto one of the kitchen’s dark wooden chair, which stuck out as if it was fate for him to grab onto the chair for dear life. He panicked for a short time but let out a quick sigh and began to sniff the air. Sniff, sniff, and sniff, all he could smell were the delicious yellow scrambled eggs on a white ceramic plate, with blue linings on the side, on top of a white countertop. He smelled the delicious aroma coming from the eggs and his stomach began to rumble and he could only wish he was human in order to reach the eggs.

B: James gawked at the sight of the kitchen. His stomach was rumbling and growling like howling hyenas. The smell of freshly made scrambled eggs filled his nose and stomach with several different flavors, spiciness, saltiness, and deliciousness. He walked towards the kitchen and felt the wet floor on the sole of his feet. He felt the cold and shivering sensation sending from the bottom of his tiny feet, to the top of his head, making the hairs stick out. As he stepped forward, he nearly slipped on the floor, fearing for his life as he hung onto the chair while falling forward. He could see the scrambled eggs sitting on the countertop and felt saddened by the fact that he couldn’t reach it. He stepped towards the eggs with tears in his eyes and arms shrouded and holding each other, and prayed to be human.

D: At the moment James saw the delicious scrambled eggs, he raced towards the wooden stool near the countertop. He nearly slipped in the process and decided to find a way to avoid the wet floor. He saw a paper towel on the floor nearby, sprinted to it and grabbed it with his fangs. James carried the paper towel to the chair and ripped it in half. He hopped onto the half of the paper towel and slid across the wet floor, as if he was parasailing in the ocean. He could see his own reflection on the floor and touched it with his fingers. But the floor was wet, cold and slimy. Once he was across to the countertop, he raced to the wooden stool which was close by. He looked at his hands and slashed his claws onto one of the legs of the stool. He slashed the other hand on the same leg and began making his way up. He sat on top of the rough stool and closed his eyes and imagined himself jumping across to the countertop. As he was imaging the scene unfolding, a giant shadow on top of him was approaching and next thing you know, all you hear is a SQAUSH!

A: The kitchen was filled with a smoky and wonderful flavor. The bacon was sizzling and smoking with delicious grease in the oven, while the scrambled eggs had the smell of different flavors of spiciness, saltiness, and oil. There sat a can filled with garbage and buzzing flies around the mounds and mounds of a small landfill. The smell had the stench of a farmland where cow manure was everywhere you stepped; the smell was dreadful and rotten. The hardwood floor was clean, but wet and slimy and seemed to be slippery if stepped in the wrong manner. You could see your reflection if you look close enough at the floor. The sun was shining through the outlined window pane, with the light bouncing off of the floor, the pots and pans, and kitchen sink. It was sunny in the kitchen, no lights were on and didn’t need to be on and seemed to be well kept and clean, as if it the floors were swept and mopped while the countertops were wiped off recently. The kitchen had many brown, old, creaky chairs sitting around a long ancient table. There was a wooden stool which lonely sat near the countertop, collecting dust and cobwebs as the house continued to, which is strange to say as everything else was exceptionally clean. The ceiling had a fan which never stopped spinning and only added to the scent of the cooking food in the kitchen.

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