I tried it, I really tried it but I failed. I wrote some sentences in english and noted that my english story is proper for a five year old child - but not for me and you * sigh *. So I had to
write the story in german.
storm
The wind held back - yet he did not believe the storm warning, rushed a little rough along the empty expanse of sand, trying to ruffle the water or move mussels, to take the bumps in the sand.
The footprints he managed it yet. They were big and had a strong impression. There were two pairs of tracks, regular increments, so hikers.
The wind was walking a little, here and there he saw in the niches in the surrounding hills, cleared everything out lots and worked his way on to the water's edge along. At one point he stopped and whirled around the footprints that had turned slightly towards the sea and also expressed deep in the sand.
Walkers were well stopped, for the tonic. Short next to it a couple had turned footprints, impressions now facing the other couple.
The wind was ignorant, he does not care. It also did not care that two feet were more footprints all completely mixed up, alternating the directions, just as the depth, half diagonally, forward rotate on the spot, rückwä rts, piled up the sand and deep craters.
There was some discussion between the two walkers, perhaps a fight. A pair of footprints leading away from the spot, so with short distances and very deep impression, as if someone had run. Then stopped the track, where a deep impression was. The other footprints were down this route at regular intervals long back and stopped at the same place.
The wind wanted to be a storm and was impatient, he grabbed the bumps, piled everything that was too low, too high in the air and lashed the sand spirals water like a slave. He gained more and more power, stretched his arms everywhere out, and in a niche in the hills, he also stressed on the locks of a man, she whirled up and pushed them down. But he only laughed, her eyes full of happiness, skin tingling from the touch of the storm, he threw his head back and felt the same life on the skin of the other man, saw storm and passion in his eyes . And when he reached out to him and feather with a finger from the forehead to the mouth of the man with the smooth short hair highlighted, because they were immersed in the wind, but it was not him, gave only her, only her.
The wind, however, had already extended many miles, war schon Sturm, dann Orkan. So ewig wie die Liebe war er, und wie der Tod.
write the story in german.
storm
The wind held back - yet he did not believe the storm warning, rushed a little rough along the empty expanse of sand, trying to ruffle the water or move mussels, to take the bumps in the sand.
The footprints he managed it yet. They were big and had a strong impression. There were two pairs of tracks, regular increments, so hikers.
The wind was walking a little, here and there he saw in the niches in the surrounding hills, cleared everything out lots and worked his way on to the water's edge along. At one point he stopped and whirled around the footprints that had turned slightly towards the sea and also expressed deep in the sand.
Walkers were well stopped, for the tonic. Short next to it a couple had turned footprints, impressions now facing the other couple.
The wind was ignorant, he does not care. It also did not care that two feet were more footprints all completely mixed up, alternating the directions, just as the depth, half diagonally, forward rotate on the spot, rückwä rts, piled up the sand and deep craters.
There was some discussion between the two walkers, perhaps a fight. A pair of footprints leading away from the spot, so with short distances and very deep impression, as if someone had run. Then stopped the track, where a deep impression was. The other footprints were down this route at regular intervals long back and stopped at the same place.
The wind wanted to be a storm and was impatient, he grabbed the bumps, piled everything that was too low, too high in the air and lashed the sand spirals water like a slave. He gained more and more power, stretched his arms everywhere out, and in a niche in the hills, he also stressed on the locks of a man, she whirled up and pushed them down. But he only laughed, her eyes full of happiness, skin tingling from the touch of the storm, he threw his head back and felt the same life on the skin of the other man, saw storm and passion in his eyes . And when he reached out to him and feather with a finger from the forehead to the mouth of the man with the smooth short hair highlighted, because they were immersed in the wind, but it was not him, gave only her, only her.
The wind, however, had already extended many miles, war schon Sturm, dann Orkan. So ewig wie die Liebe war er, und wie der Tod.
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