A short while ago I completed a writing course which was titled Writing the Image. We tried different exercises where we chose spaces, characters and objects and needed to use senses to ground our writing. One of the exercises was to choose an indoor space and write about the weather. We were given a short amount of time to write. I chose to write about a stable. Here is my completely unedited piece.
I ran to the stables, the wind lashing at my clothes, whipping my hair against my face, stinging my eyes. I turned the overhead lights on, hoping the power was still alive. Soft light filled the stalls. Some horses were calmly watching me, their heads over their doors, warm steamy breath coming from their nostrils. Others were turning in their stalls or stamping theirs hooves, their snorts fast and harsh. They trod in their manure. The strong, earthy smell mixed with the smell of hay building up around me. I pushed past them, one by one, to the window at the opposite end of the stable, slamming it closed as the rain pummeled my face and thunder boomed overhead.