I especially love to write descriptions so I had this idea for a name game. One person writes a few sentences describing someone, the next person names that character and then writes another description for someone else, then the next person names them and writes a description, and so on.
The descriptions can be from just a sentence to a paragraph long. All in the third or second person, and of any style you want. [name_m]Don[/name_m]’t worry about making them too literary. You can write about characters of any age and gender, but they should be human. If you can’t think of anything to write, you could try describing someone you know and seeing how others would name them.
When naming, you have to give the characters first names but middles and surnames are optional. You can give them nicknames too, if you want.
On our way to the farm we saw a child sitting on the strip of grass next to the dirt track, cradling his knees in his thin arms, unmoving. Surrounding his head was a cloud of the most remarkable hair I have ever seen; silver-blonde and delicate, it sprouted out from his head and then bowed downwards again, just like a snowdrop. His brown eyes were tense and fixed on a point I suspect was invisible to the rest of us as his bare feet tapped faster and faster, like the beginnings of a drum roll.
While watching a water polo game, one of the players for the next game came up and asked me to help her put her swim cap on. She was all ready to go -water polo suit on, goggles and game cap in hand. She twisted her long, chestnut colored, wavy hair in a makeshift bun and I snapped the cap over to cover the lovely hair. She straightened her lean body into a confident pose and smiled. Her hazel-green eyes quickly met mine and I wished her good luck just as the final whistle for the current game sounded. She skipped away and dove right into the pool.
We were walking down the road in the farmer’s market. Warm smells greeted our noses, and our shoes tapped against the cobblestone streets. It was as if I had been transported into the past. Ahead of us, a small girl sat on the curb. She was thin and her elbows rested on her knobby knees. Her hair was light blond, but dirty and knotted. However, she smiled up at us, her pale brown eyes meeting mine. She smiled, then got up and ran down a side street I hadn’t noticed before. In a flash, the mysterious child was gone.
We were at the park playing two-touch football when I noticed a young girl sitting underneath a small cluster of trees. She has straight hair, a shade away from black, and soft bangs. A pale, pink flower rested above her ear. Her icy blue eyes watched a group of children playing on the swings. Her small, porcelain hands played with a branch with a few leaves on it. The scene was beautiful, yet lonely. I couldn’t help but think that behind that delicate, emotionless face, she yearned to be with those children on the swings.
While we were driving the twisty country roads on our way to the beach, we passed a field of lush, green grass blooming with handfuls of dandelions sprinkled about here and there. The salty sea air blew the dandelions around and behind a tall, swooping oak tree 50 feet away was a little girl maybe about the age of 7 or 8. She had a face like a raven’s, chiseled and serious. Her waist-length dark brown hair blew in circles around her, her big green-yellow eyes staring hopelessly, straight at the car. And as soon as she was there, she was gone. We turned the corner and the foggy, rocky beach came into sight.
I was at the mall, finishing up some holiday shopping. To my left, a young woman who was chatting loudly into her iPhone. She started laughing, and flipped her curly dark hair with a perfectly manicured hand. Her brown eyes were overpowered by layers and layers of mascara and shimmery eye shadow. Her lips were painted with the classic red lipstick. She wasn’t without manners through, seeing how she apologized to a woman after bumping into her.
As I was walking down the countryside road, I saw a little face peaking at me through the trees. I turned and looked at her, and she smiled. She looked about 9 or 10. She had curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She was wearing a little floral smock dress, and green rain boots. She scribbled a few notes down in a leather notebook and then disappeared into the forest.
I was in the library looking for a book when a young boy bumped into me. He had brown eyes and short, dark brown hair. He has a bruise on his arm and a scrape on his knee, as well as flushed cheeks, like he just came in after running around outside. He wore a Spiderman shirt and basketball shorts. He looked at me with wide eyes, gave an innocent “I’m sorry” and darted away.
Yesterday a couple of my friends and I went to the coffee shop in town. There was a teenage girl bundled up in a crimson knit hat and matching scarf sitting outside at one of the tables. She had long, wavy white-blonde hair and warm eyes the color of brown sugar. Her face was tinted red like she’d been outside in the cold, but it was very faint. She quickly finished the last sip of her pumpkin spice latte, got up quickly and left without making any eye contact.
Two days ago, I was assigned to sketch a girl for my art class. She sat like a Victorian lady-back straight, shoulders back, all while still looking delicate and innocent. Her small hands clasped a rose, which sat on top of a plaid skirt. She had on a white blouse that was slightly covered by her honey colored hair, curled especially for this picture. Her green eyes were free of makeup, and seemed a little sad. She had a small splash of freckles on her cheeks. She never said a word to me throughout the sketching, and I assumed it was because she was lost in her own world.
On the corner she stood, waiting for the light to change. In her left hand, the christmassy gift bags blew slightly in the wind with the ends of her jingling jingle bell christmas scarf. When her gaze left the that of the light she caught sight of me and shared a smile; What a lovely smile she had. Then back to the light she looked, seeing it had turned she crossed. After a second I noticed that she did not walk, nor run, but rather almost skiped across the street, where she disappeared into the crowd.
He looked at me with those intense green eyes for a split second. It was enough to make my heart flutter. His lean, muscular frame was covered with a gray hoodie and jeans. He leaned against the building, his hand casually running through his short, jet black hair. I felt his stare, and when I looked up, he gave me a smirk. My instincts said he was a ‘bad boy’, however, sitting a few feet away from him was a black backpack and some textbooks.
We were walking across a supermarket aisle when a young toddler scurried past us, giggling, doll in hand. She was adorable with an oval shaped face, wavy brown hair, and gorgeous puppy dog brown eyes. She was clearly running away from her mom. Her mom sat to talk with us about how she was a stubborn, and mischievous little 3 year old. That was when the toddler ran back to her mama saying “You didn’t chase me,” and pouted. She was one of the cutest little girls we had ever seen.
An old man with the face of a 90 year old but probably only around 65. He was full of life and played with the young children. He offered to carry the toddlers, or change the diapers of the babies. frustrated parents sent their wayward teenagers to be straighten out by this man. He had a plethora of jokes that, based on his age he often recycled. [name_m]Young[/name_m] mothers would gossip to each other 'He should have had children of his own" not knowing that twenty years ago he lost all parental rights for two now mid-aged children.
I creeped down the stairs when I heard my mother crying again. What could it be this time? Bills? Work? Did she and daddy fight again? I watched her sit at the kitchen tables, head in her hands, limp auburn hair spilling over her slim shoulders. She had once been beautiful but the years had not been kind to her.
This junior in high school likes music and is considering a career in music.Or maybe accounting like his father. He dated a girl for about a year but was too nervous to break up with her. He liked history and get OK grades. His favorite color was blue and he is blond with green eyes.
At the beach my teenage son got talking to a girl his age, She had “Beeline [name_f]Honey[/name_f]” blonde that came just above the middle of her back and beautiful baby blue eyes. From what my son told me she loves surfing, art and dancing. Her favourite subjects at school are [name_m]Art[/name_m], [name_u]Drama[/name_u], PE, English and [name_m]Science[/name_m]. She has gone to a national sport match for swimming. She plays netball and does cheer-leading and dance (Ballet and hip-hop).