This is my second descriptive paragraph for this challenge, and I thought I would do it a bit differently this time. Instead of describing something that is tangible and real, I would describe something I made up. I think it just as important for authors (especially fantasy authors like myself) to be able to describe from their imagination as well as what is around them.
That said, what I have for you today is a little odd. When I sat down to write today's challenge, a strange machine came to mind. I decided I needed to follow my creative urge, (that is what I call random ideas that pop into my head,) and write what came to me. Keep that in mind, because it is a little strange, and really random, plus it does not make any since unless you know about the Steam Punk world I have been creating. Yes, this machine goes with a world I've created. I know there are probably better things I could do with my life than make up worlds, but hey, all the most popular fantasy authors spend hours perfecting imaginary worlds.
Oh, and it is really long, so I won't be too offended if you stop reading half way through.
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The old machine started up with a screech of metal to metal. The old, rusted parts did not take kindly to being woken up. Red flakes fell from the machine like a cold, blood-colored snow.
The machine basically looked like a large metal box form the back, about five feet tall, three feet wide, and two feet deep. It was made of huge sheets of metal held together by large bolts. The sides and the front were a different story. About two feet up the box, the front jutted out, offering something that resembled a desk. On the desk was a raised key board, titled at a slight angel. The character of the round, metal keys had faded away from either rust or being pressed hundreds of times by several people. Above the desk, the rest of the front was covered by a large screen.
The screen was divided into three panels. The one in he middle was about a foot and a half long. The two on either side shared the other foot and a half equally.
Also on the desk was a small box bolted to the desk top. A hanged lid topped it, that when lifted, revealed a grimy pane of glass. Underneath the glass was a camera which faced upward.
A second camera hung off the desk. Its large bulb had shattered, and a thick copper coated wire traveled from its side and back to the machine.
The side of the machine had their own stories. Back had a thin opening where a conveyable belt stuck out. When something was placed on the conveyable belt, it would disappear into the box, and come out the other end. One side differed in the fact that it had a drawer which took up the whole side. Old paper rested in the drawer, yellow and falling apart with age. The other side instead ha d a small table attacked by hinges. Right now, it hung down, barely noticeable, but when pulled up had support legs which clicked into slots on the box. The table had a three inch tall edge.
The machine sat, metal parts squealing, rust flaking off. It could only be seen by the dim light which filtered through the crack between the boards. The musty smell of old dust and rooting wood filled the cramped space.
Little by little, the machine stopped its screeching and turned to gentle and rhythmic clicking and whirring.
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