Have you ever seen the Northern Lights? I caught the phenomenon one evening as I drove back to the Twin Cities from Rochester. I was with Whitney, and Laura was sleeping in the backseat, and all of the sudden, BAM! Right in front of our eyes there is this crazy green light in the sky.
I'll be honest. My first reaction? I thought the world was ending. Or that aliens were real after all.
I'm trying to write a scene about the Northern Lights. Note: trying. How would you describe this? Help me out! I'm looking for a clever description.
Here are my first-draft attempts at describing my main character Neely's and her friend Gabe's experience:
I stared up into the night sky that was streaked with glowing green light. It was as if the sky was raining green radiance or as if plumes of green gas had issued from forty crashing planes. It was as if God had broken open a glo-stick and begun to fingerpaint the sky. Green wisps like smoke from a burning countryside.
I lay back on the blanket and stared into the sky. Gabe, sitting up beside me, looked at me for awhile, then lay back on the blanket next to me, our heads together. We didn’t say anything, just stared up into that hazy green streaked on top of the black. It was almost neon. You could see our breath in the cold night air.
“What are you thinking?” Gabe asked, then lightly kicked my foot with his own when I didn’t answer.
“I don’t know,” I said, still overwhelmed. “I’m not sure. I can’t even tell if I’m thinking of a lot of things or nothing because nothing’s really forming in my head. It’s really so bizarre, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Silence again. “Say something,” he commanded.
“I really don’t know what to say, Gabe. It’s absolutely incredible.” Beside me, he leaned on his side and propped himself up on one elbow and looked at me again. I kept my eyes on the green glow. It was like when the sun is bursting through the holes of a cloud with such power that you can actually see rays of light, beams of sun reaching long arms through the clouds and to the earth. Only tonight the beams were green, and there were no clouds for the beams to kick through. The background was inky black, a little dirty looking, with stars as spackling caught in it. It was a little like watching a forest fire through a haze, only the softened blaze was green instead of orange. Or like when you’re driving at night in thick fog, and as you approach an oncoming car, the headlights’ beams are like long, tall towers of light, swirling in the smoke. And green! Everywhere, green.
“I feel like this is the time when you should say something really clever and wise,” he said.
I laughed a little. “Me? Why?” I laughed again.
“Because you’re tight with God, and you’re looking at this.” He flicked his head back to indicate the green wonder that was happening right over his shoulder.
“You’re getting philosophical on me, Reed,” I said, and he laughed. “You want me to talk about God. Admit it.”
“Kay, fine,” he said. “I kinda like it when you talk about God.”
“Gabe,” I said, “look with me.” He lay back down, face near mine so that I could feel his hot breath on my neck. “Look,” I encouraged him, and he turned and looked up at the heavens with me. “God is talking for Himself.”
