I think I may post a chapter of something eventually, but I particularly liked this scene.
In this Rina is daydreaming of the world of her imagination, in Willy Wonka form:
The wind was blowing softly and the grass stuck to my feet. I was surrounded by shining purple mountains and chocolate milk cows. I walked around the meadow barefoot and marveled. The trees dispersed on the edge were covered in candy drops, and the spring smelled like soda.
All around me were candy coated somethings, and that’s when I saw it. The teacup tree, I’d always wanted to eat one of those teacups.
“Hello Rina, welcome to your imagination.”
“Please, look around.”
It was different than what I had imagined it would look like, which was strange. Everything was brighter, more vivid. The colors were intensified by ten, I could taste the smells.
It was like nothing I had ever experienced, it was riveting and yet the whole scene was lackadaisical in nature. It was as if it was made for you to just sit and daydream instead of stand in awe of what was before you.
I couldn’t describe it if I wanted to, there literally were no words that could accurately capture the total awesomeness of this place.
Walking around I found myself constantly fascinated, the trees leaves were gummy and seemed to turn darker with the lowering temperature of night. The sky, as the sun went down, faded into the brightest purple, pink, and orange I had ever seen. The sunset was glowing, truly and honestly glowing. Every tuft of cloud was luminescent, every colorful streak was dripping psychedelic hues.
It was groovier than the sixties, it was more advanced than good ole twenty-eleven, it was simply…incredible.
To say that being there was amazing would be the most insane, most mundane thing I could even attempt to utter. Thinking it sent me into a surging massacre of emotions, suddenly I was drowning in a desert and the only thing that could save me was imagination…pure imagination.
I drank from the soda springs and I ate the candy drops from the trees. I ran and rolled around in the bright green grass and lastly I ate the teacup.
The teacup was incredible. It was all I imagined and more; it was decadent and rich, it was melt-in-your-mouth, it was crunchy, it was sweet, it was colorful, it was a paradox. When I juxtaposed the hypocrisies in that single candy teacup I felt like everything in the world was simple and that teacup was something only Plato and Socrates could attempt to uncover.
“INCREDIBLE,” I screamed, my voice echoed off of the mountains. Even my echo sounded like candy. “Incredible,” I muttered.