A lot of my feedback on the previous writing prompts was about the settings, so I'm following that thread. For this prompt, try to build out a location and the way we should feel about that location. There doesn't need to be any action or even any characters for this prompt, but you can have them if you want. Just try to focus on making sure the physical space feels real.
EDIT: We're changing the rules some - if you don't want feedback, clearly state it, otherwise you'll get it. If you've submitted a story, try to give feedback to someone else.
I would open the door from the kitchen and be presented with a case of narrow and shallow stairs that went straight up. The wall on the left was sheetrock, but the wall on the right side of the stairs was older having been a part of the house longer. It was made up of exposed boards and carried electrical wires into the living room behind it. As a child, you're never exposed to the spaces behind the walls, and I felt like an explorer. Because of the odd way in which the room was added on to the existing house it wasn't air conditioned. This was my favorite thing about the room in the tower. When you stepped in there, and out of the rest of the world, it was supremely quiet. Even the air was quiet. I would step into that room through the floor and then I was alone, and even the dust motes hung motionless out of respect for the still air. My foot would leave the last step and I would breathe in the smell of books, and quilts, and cardboard. I would walk slowly through the sunbeams of orange and red and my arm would glow as if there were candles under my skin. I would watch the dust slowly meander around me and swirl in the currents and drag reverent at my impacts. When I would open the window to let new air in, I would barely create an opening at first so that I could watch the dust move along with the new imbalance. When the fire took the house, I thought of that room and how unhappy it must have been at being exposed to the world, and I understood it.
This is a pretty passage. It has actual atmosphere, the words don't just build up the space but fill it in and give it depth. The intertwining of feeling and setting is like a well woven rope, layering each aspect in equal measure to make a stronger scene. My areas for improvement are small, like using "you're" then "I" in the last sentence of the first paragraph, but even then I can't commit to such petty feedback. I want to know more about this world, this person, and this fire, and I would suggest thinking about setting future scenes in this world.
Sunlight, cast forth from that fiery orb and scattered by hundreds of leaves from dozens of branches danced on the water like the shifting patterns of a kaleidoscope. Come July the water would be green with algae and thick as pea soup, but right now it was clear and black, the waterhole seemed like a bottomless pit, ready to hungrily devour all comers. The rope was old and frayed where it met the tire's edges, but it was still strong, and thicker than two of Rob's thumbs. The running was the worst part, the heaving, the fear. That moment when you took the last step, and the sudden realization of your own insanity, the madness that summer heat has laden upon your mind. And then, for a moment, you are flying through the sun-dappled glade. Free from the earth, free from the dirt, only the mud stains on the tire to remind you of home. The sky invites you, but try as you will, you must decline and plunge into water cold and clear.
It's a haunting scene. the writing style created a very mysterious and disjointed picture of the location, which gave it a nice mystical feeling. The other side to that sword is that I'm not exactly sure what's going on. I get a feeling of the place and the experience but since it's not grounded in reality it acts like a dream in my mind, where each sentence vanishes before I can really grasp it. If you lean in more to creating that reality I think you'll have a more complete story. But I think this would make a very good aside of a protagonist who finds themselves in an unknown land as the emotion of it is very strong.
The blue sky. That's what she remembered the most. It stretched from horizon to horizon, a deep ocean just waiting for someone to dive in. It looked tangible: if only you could just reach far enough, you'd be able to hold a thick glob of blue sky in your hand. She imagined it had the likeness of a thick cream, easy to mold and shape and stick back together. As a child, she would exclaim that the sky was simply "ginormous", and even in adulthood, she still could not find another word that fit so well. Sometimes, clouds dotted the sky, much as cows dotted the pastures below. The sweet yellow wheat fields would dance and wave at the sky with her as she ran free. The horses would whinny in surprise as she climbed the barn, hoping to get just a little closer to that beautiful pool of blue, the comfortable soft grasses becoming smaller beneath her. Papa would come home from the fields to find her stuck in some crazy position atop the house, unable to come down for dinner. Of course, once he did get her down, she'd have the paddling of her life, but it never quite seemed to have the effect he wanted. Mama would just sigh and go back to stirring her homemade chili, muttering something about "girls these days." Slowly, the memory slipped from her grasp. She stared up out of the window in front of her, examining the same liquid sky that flowed above her as a girl. She turned and flashed a quick thumbs up to her companion, giving the sky one last loving glance. "Houston. We are go for launch."
Very nice. The whole scene felt very thick and tangible and I could definitely see every part of it. I liked the mixture of facts and feelings, using her memories to add depth to the space, though it never felt heavy handed. I debated if it would be better to start with the vast ground then make the sky even bigger in comparison, but I think it would work either way. And maybe expand on her in the shuttle a bit more, it was a quick gear change. But really it's a solid scene.