Der Sturm war eiskalt, als Robin endlich die Höhle erreichte. Tagelang hatte er gesucht und war doch immer nur im Kreis gelaufen. Die eigenen Spuren wie Hohn im blitzen Schnee. Wenn der Mond über den Ebenen hing, dann war es besonders schlimm und die Hoffnungsigkeit kam mit unerbitterlichen Krallen und schlug sich in jede Faser.
This window was icy against my hand and it felt a lot like my heart. I had just betrayed the only person that mattered to me in this life and I didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, I felt empowered.
The icy shadows engulfed me in a grasp that took my breath away. My trembling legs fought to keep me standing on the cold ground beneath me. I knew it was time
I am craving for an icy glass of lemonade
Does any have a icy glass of lemonade for me to drink
I am more than willing to make an icy gkass of lemonade
Icy roads were dangerous. You could get hurt. Don’t slip. Be careful.
Bla bla bla.
He’d heard it a million times from his dad.
If only he had listened that one time.
Maybe then he would have lived.
Winter is coming soon. Not looking forward to going to work driving on the icy roads. I will be taking the bus, most likely. I hope they run on time every day. I will also need to walk along the icy sidewalks to get to my new job.
Icy, cold, shivering, Icebergs. A land buried in snow and ice was the only home the young boy knew. His family abandoned him he had nothing in his hands or on his back. What was he to do? Where could he go?
The drink was cold in his hand as he perused the maps in front of him. She had dropped three ice cubes into the scotch, just the way he liked it. She had done so, however, not out of kindness but out of habit. Her presence in the room was still cold, distant. The fight, what they had thought was simply a spat, had escalated out of hand. Remedy was possible, he supposed. But for now, the sure thing. The map in front of him.
these worries are heavy
icy glaciers that fall on my shoulders
the devil lingers on
and my feet are too numb to run
my only friend are these glaciers
they know me well
The roads were icy, necessitating a slow down. It wasn’t pleasant to feel your car slip on the roads that you’re used to being so secure on. But eventually you adapt, drifting with the corners, not reacting in instinctive panic when you go a bit further than you anticipated.
It is an icy slope we climb to find our true spirit, sometimes. We are not sure what is true because of outside influences. But be your true self. Use your intuition, not your ego….that’s the tough part.
The icy rink stretched on for miles. Vespa clenched her fists as she tried to calm herself down. She could feel the heat and flare threatening to leave her nostrils. Breathe in, breathe out very slowly. Carefully. Don’t lose control, she told herself, you must not melt this kingdom too.
When you get rejected in love, that feeling is icy. When you feel so numb that you can’t feel anything else. The pain is so much more than you can every take.
Ever since their communication has been cut, the warmth inside her slowly and constantly faded away along with her remaining feelings for him. It felt like the transitioning of seasons–from summer to fall to winter–and that bright, sunny, cheerful lady she once was already became this gloomy, frigid, melancholic person nobody could recognize.
The icy feeling that one gets when being rejected in acts that one feels most close to the heart. It is an icy dagger that has the power to not melt but to make ones heart brittle and shatter in one plunge and twist of it, only few moments in life must deserve this feeling.
“Brr, it’s icy out there, why don’t you come in,” I said when a stranger knocked on the door.
“Thanks,” a muffled voice beneath all the layers he was wearing.
“You can sit on the couch there near the fireplace and I’ll get you something warm to drink.’
He fell into the icy water as the boat tipped on end. He heard his dad cry out in a voice he’d never heard. He could barely cry out in reply. But he tried until he felt his dad’s arms wrap around him.
She sat, staring at the snow. How long had they been sitting out here? She didn’t really care to know the answer, she just wanted to go inside. She tucked her icy fingers inside her jacket pocket and scowled. She never really liked the snow. She hated it to be honest. Who wants to play in ice? it didnt make any sense.
I felt the ice slowly crawl up my veins. I could feel life disappearing slowly, frosted over like the whiskers growing upon my face. This was to be a noble end, not quite. It was to be a quiet end, one without a rage against the dying light, or rather, fire. The fire did not shout or scream, but merely whimpered.
The winds blew shrilly from among the buildings, propelling me along the icy streets. The winds guided me, would not let me turn back or give a moment to reflect on what I had to do. Finally, I stopped in front of the house. The winds stopped; I entered.
Her icy fingertips grasped the door handle to her job. Lee dreaded the 5 hours a day she spent behind the counter at the Steel Fudge Shop on the boardwalk of Atlantic city. Business was usually slow, and the poor 17 year old had no company there other than the store cat who kept away the mice. Missie licked her paw and walked past Lee, ignoring her presence
Her hands were icy cold. Typical. Bad circulation. Either she was one of those clichéd, recluse protagonists in young adult novels just seeking love, or she was a vampire. Actually, the latter would be kind of cool. Dating a vampire? Imagine the hunt and adventure. Though she couldn’t be a vampire from the Twilight series. The moment that girl started to sparkle around me, it was over between us. Still, something like Dracula couldn’t hurt. As long as she could eat garlic. I loved garlic so much, I cooked it in almost everything, so I wanted her to be able to like it, too.
He was walking down the road, the icy road, when he saw a butterfly passing by. What an awkard and lovely scene: a purple butterfly flying in the colder winter he’s ever lived.
Der Sturm war eiskalt, als Robin endlich die Höhle erreichte. Tagelang hatte er gesucht und war doch immer nur im Kreis gelaufen. Die eigenen Spuren wie Hohn im blitzen Schnee. Wenn der Mond über den Ebenen hing, dann war es besonders schlimm und die Hoffnungsigkeit kam mit unerbitterlichen Krallen und schlug sich in jede Faser.
This window was icy against my hand and it felt a lot like my heart. I had just betrayed the only person that mattered to me in this life and I didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, I felt empowered.
The icy road stretched on ahead of her as she pressed on the accelerator pedal and zoomed toward the office. “This can’t end well,” she thought.
The icy treat froze my throat.
The icy shadows engulfed me in a grasp that took my breath away. My trembling legs fought to keep me standing on the cold ground beneath me. I knew it was time
I am craving for an icy glass of lemonade
Does any have a icy glass of lemonade for me to drink
I am more than willing to make an icy gkass of lemonade
Icy roads were dangerous. You could get hurt. Don’t slip. Be careful.
Bla bla bla.
He’d heard it a million times from his dad.
If only he had listened that one time.
Maybe then he would have lived.
Winter is coming soon. Not looking forward to going to work driving on the icy roads. I will be taking the bus, most likely. I hope they run on time every day. I will also need to walk along the icy sidewalks to get to my new job.
Icy, cold, shivering, Icebergs. A land buried in snow and ice was the only home the young boy knew. His family abandoned him he had nothing in his hands or on his back. What was he to do? Where could he go?
The drink was cold in his hand as he perused the maps in front of him. She had dropped three ice cubes into the scotch, just the way he liked it. She had done so, however, not out of kindness but out of habit. Her presence in the room was still cold, distant. The fight, what they had thought was simply a spat, had escalated out of hand. Remedy was possible, he supposed. But for now, the sure thing. The map in front of him.
these worries are heavy
icy glaciers that fall on my shoulders
the devil lingers on
and my feet are too numb to run
my only friend are these glaciers
they know me well
The roads were icy, necessitating a slow down. It wasn’t pleasant to feel your car slip on the roads that you’re used to being so secure on. But eventually you adapt, drifting with the corners, not reacting in instinctive panic when you go a bit further than you anticipated.
It is an icy slope we climb to find our true spirit, sometimes. We are not sure what is true because of outside influences. But be your true self. Use your intuition, not your ego….that’s the tough part.
The icy rink stretched on for miles. Vespa clenched her fists as she tried to calm herself down. She could feel the heat and flare threatening to leave her nostrils. Breathe in, breathe out very slowly. Carefully. Don’t lose control, she told herself, you must not melt this kingdom too.
wonderful
The icy feeling in my hand , the feeling of the bottle of beer that i took
When you get rejected in love, that feeling is icy. When you feel so numb that you can’t feel anything else. The pain is so much more than you can every take.
Ever since their communication has been cut, the warmth inside her slowly and constantly faded away along with her remaining feelings for him. It felt like the transitioning of seasons–from summer to fall to winter–and that bright, sunny, cheerful lady she once was already became this gloomy, frigid, melancholic person nobody could recognize.
Icy cold feelings, sharp painful stares, sad little hearts is all that made up the meeting of erstwhile lovers shudder with melancholia.
The icy feeling that one gets when being rejected in acts that one feels most close to the heart. It is an icy dagger that has the power to not melt but to make ones heart brittle and shatter in one plunge and twist of it, only few moments in life must deserve this feeling.
stupend
very very cold
Just some quick observations or notes regarding that 1 word.
Winter’s coming soon enough with it’s icy cold and blinding snow.
“Brr, it’s icy out there, why don’t you come in,” I said when a stranger knocked on the door.
“Thanks,” a muffled voice beneath all the layers he was wearing.
“You can sit on the couch there near the fireplace and I’ll get you something warm to drink.’
He fell into the icy water as the boat tipped on end. He heard his dad cry out in a voice he’d never heard. He could barely cry out in reply. But he tried until he felt his dad’s arms wrap around him.
it was icy outside and the children all began to slip and slide, enjoyingthe novel fruits of the long winter ahead
i see why
First time writer
It is icy outside, colder than she has ever experienced before, and she chose to step out without the security and safety of her shoes.
The dowager’s demeanor was as icy as the Russian winter outside the parlor window.
She sat, staring at the snow. How long had they been sitting out here? She didn’t really care to know the answer, she just wanted to go inside. She tucked her icy fingers inside her jacket pocket and scowled. She never really liked the snow. She hated it to be honest. Who wants to play in ice? it didnt make any sense.
I felt the ice slowly crawl up my veins. I could feel life disappearing slowly, frosted over like the whiskers growing upon my face. This was to be a noble end, not quite. It was to be a quiet end, one without a rage against the dying light, or rather, fire. The fire did not shout or scream, but merely whimpered.
The winds blew shrilly from among the buildings, propelling me along the icy streets. The winds guided me, would not let me turn back or give a moment to reflect on what I had to do. Finally, I stopped in front of the house. The winds stopped; I entered.
Her icy fingertips grasped the door handle to her job. Lee dreaded the 5 hours a day she spent behind the counter at the Steel Fudge Shop on the boardwalk of Atlantic city. Business was usually slow, and the poor 17 year old had no company there other than the store cat who kept away the mice. Missie licked her paw and walked past Lee, ignoring her presence
Her hands were icy cold. Typical. Bad circulation. Either she was one of those clichéd, recluse protagonists in young adult novels just seeking love, or she was a vampire. Actually, the latter would be kind of cool. Dating a vampire? Imagine the hunt and adventure. Though she couldn’t be a vampire from the Twilight series. The moment that girl started to sparkle around me, it was over between us. Still, something like Dracula couldn’t hurt. As long as she could eat garlic. I loved garlic so much, I cooked it in almost everything, so I wanted her to be able to like it, too.
The icicles hung from the roof like daggers. Each delivery person gingerly approached the porch, nervously glancing up, fearing for their lives.
He was walking down the road, the icy road, when he saw a butterfly passing by. What an awkard and lovely scene: a purple butterfly flying in the colder winter he’s ever lived.
I tried not thinking and just writing what ever came to my mind.
The snow outside sometimes turns to ice in a matter of seconds. It can make your hands hurt from ice burns or make your hands freezing cold. Yikes!!!