1. Prose is a narrative literary genre that expresses the author’s true feelings and has a flexible writing style. The word "prose" appeared around the period of Taiping and Xingguo in the Northern Song Dynasty (December 976-November 984).
2. For example, two prose imitations
Two prose imitations of candles. I like candles, maybe because I love light and warmth. Look at the slender flame swaying its figure and humming a hot song in the slightly cool air. My heart trembles! At this time, my memory was also hot, and I excitedly remembered too many stories in the candlelight... My most immature and clumsy candle was hiding in the jack-o'-lantern made by my grandfather. When I was young, my grandpa lived with us. Grandpa is the "cook" of our family because he can always combine various ingredients to make delicious meals. One day, I suddenly asked him to make a jack-o'-lantern for me. "Pumpkin lantern? What is it for?" Grandpa asked strangely. "It's for fun. The teacher said that Halloween is celebrated in the West, and children like us all have jack-o-lanterns to play with." I was naive and stubborn. I just felt that if foreign children could play, I should also play. I told my grandfather in excitement, but later I didn't realize how important it was, so I didn't ask any more questions. Really, I completely forgot about the jack-o-lantern. "Hey, come and see your lantern!" It seemed that within a few days, grandpa actually made one! I was so shocked that I finally remembered something and ran to the kitchen! ah! Pumpkin lantern! A hollow pumpkin as big as a bowl! But... "It's not like this!" I protested, "It must have eyes, a mouth, a nose, and triangular pointed teeth!" "Okay, okay! Oh! Grandpa will do it right away!" Grandpa hurriedly reassured me, and then Start getting busy...A lamp is finally ready. Grandpa solemnly took a candle, fixed it inside the melon, and lit it. I couldn't wait to put on the melon hat, turned off the light, and watched with interest as the flames sucked out heat waves from their triangular fangs. The red pumpkin is even redder, as red as if it is ripe. I was very young at that time and knew only a little about everything. But at this moment, I was transfixed in front of the candle, intoxicated by the mysterious blood-red color. Everything is blood red, my world is dyed blood red! Miraculously, I am not afraid of the candle flame. It is warm, bright, and so spiritual! My grandpa also watched the jack-o'-lantern with me. For a moment, I felt that he was as warm as a candle flame. I've only lit up a jack-o-lantern once, and I think it was the happiest I've ever been. The winter of 2012 was mysterious. I was seven years old that year. A girl's ignorant and game-like mentality makes those days that should be anxious seem ordinary until a candlelight at night.
I was still young at the time, but now I finally know the so-called doomsday day in 2012. Rumors of coincidence spread, and grandma was very worried. She bought several large packages of candles early and put them at home. I have a vague impression that my parents don’t believe it, but grandma always says something like “safety” or “can still use it in the future.” I know that grandma is a bit "superstitious" from the bottom of her heart. Before going to bed that night, we turned off all the lights. Grandma's candle came in handy, and she lit the candle with guilt and pride. I saw her loving eyes in the candlelight, and my heart immediately calmed down. Our grandparents and grandchildren gathered around the candle and watched the beating flames twisting around in panic as if they were punching. The yellow candlelight flickering like a shining star attracted my attention. I have rarely used candlelight since I was a child. This was the first time for a serious and formal occasion like this night. No wonder my innocent mind also had a vague premonition, thinking about what would happen differently tonight... For the first time, I fell in love with everything around me, they were all buried in the golden light! For the first time, my mind had an understanding of the world, and I realized how lovely and beautiful the world is... "Hey, it's time to sleep." My mother called me in the room. I walked towards the room, and suddenly I saw my grandmother's loving and persistent smile in the candlelight... "Heyuan, sleep well!" Grandma said. I did as I was told, and when I woke up the next day, the sun was warm and warm. Grandma is not superstitious for herself, she is superstitious for our family. I will never forget her smile in the candlelight. The Kongming lanterns are extremely beautiful. Almost the only experience I had with flying Kongming lanterns was during a class outing in primary school. How happy we children are! Playing tug-of-war with our playmates on the beach, swimming in the shallow sea, feasting in restaurants, and lying on the couch watching the stars. Finally, it’s the climax of the whole process! Let’s release the Kongming Lantern! The Kongming Lantern was originally a tool for military signals. Later, because of its beautiful appearance and clever functions, it became a custom to pray for blessings and wishes. Of course the children don’t know, we only have fun in our hearts! Let’s light the lamps! My parents and I arranged the lamps and lit the candle trays at the bottom of the lamps. At first it was a flat lantern cloth, but it slowly swelled up! We looked forward to sending it up to the lower sky, a little higher, and a little higher. I wanted to raise my head and see it again!
< p> A class of lanterns flew into the sky, large and small, high and low, appearing and disappearing. Looking back, I would like to say: "Suddenly I raised my head, but the lanterns were there, and the lights were dimly lit." Really, the scene was so beautiful. Hundreds of adults and children looked up together. There was not a single star in the sky that was as black as lacquer. The bright stars no longer hung far away on the nine-layered sky, but soared up from the mortal world. Soaked in cloud satin.I seem to still be able to see every shining candle. They are so bright and dazzling. This is the artistic conception of "only red lights can be seen under the starry sky"! The candles carry the fireworks of the world and run up into the sky. , I wonder if Chang'e in the Moon Palace will receive news from the human world? I thought about the blazing flames and stayed where I was. Dad didn't move, and mom smiled. Scribing paper and pen, I am already thirteen. He raised his head slightly and saw a simple electric lamp in front of him. The aperture produces light calmly and efficiently, smearing out circles of light at a uniform and monotonous speed. I miss the lovely candle again, want to see its irregular dance, and listen to its sizzling little tune. What I want to see more is the person in the candlelight! The second article: A slender and well-proportioned pen was held lightly by the adults and danced ballet on the paper. Next to it, there is a pair of watery eyes looking at it curiously--this is me. My awe for the pen came from Children’s Hospital. The hand in the white coat held a pen. I was held in my arms by my mother. My father asked anxiously: "Doctor, is the child okay?" "It's okay, it's just a fever." As he said that, the pen glowing with black light was A string of words flashed across the medical record, and my heart was filled with blackness. "I need to take medicine and get injections again," I thought. But the way the doctor held the pen domineeringly was engraved in my mind. The authority and confidence of the person holding the pen, my awe for the pen, and the color of the ink and the fragrance of the medicine are all sealed in my memory. My love for pens comes from my father. "Let me teach you how to write your name." It was the Spring Festival of that year, when I was four or five years old. Dad took a pen and wrote my name. Dad's handwriting is the best. His handwriting is not heavy, but has a natural elegance and freedom without being sloppy. Dad held my small hand, held the pen, and wrote my name on the snow-white paper. Dad's thick and warm hands gently led me to write, for fear of holding too tightly and hurting me. That pen seemed to be deliberately trying to get in trouble with me. It naughtily tried to break free from my hand and draw a long black line on the white paper. I was so angry that I wanted to drop the pen and stop writing, but my father was not impatient, held my hand and said, "It doesn't matter, come again. Write slowly." Gradually, the pen became as quiet and sleepy as a tame little beast. He leaned against my little hand, obediently letting me command him, and his childish words slowly took shape. I looked at my name with a smile, and suddenly felt that this letter was so cute.
Pen makes me relax and gives me confidence. As I became more and more proficient in controlling the pen, I developed the skill of turning pens. When the pen in my hand is turned, it feels like it has been touched by a magic wand, turning up and down on my slender fingertips. I don’t know whether I am tired or stopping; like a circus acrobat spinning on the parallel bars; wearing a smart outfit and looking fresh. The young general, dressed in furry horse clothes, holds a silver sword and a spear, and has an innate sense of heroism; in the blink of an eye, he is like a butterfly flying in his green-white hands. A pen makes me relax. After entering junior high school, there were more and more speeches. Every time I go on stage, I like to hold a pen. Holding the pen is like a drowning man holding a life-saving straw. It is better to hold something in my hand than empty hands, otherwise I will feel that my hands have nowhere to put them. This little pen became my baton and my confidence. A pen, a pen, a small pen has now become an integral part of me. I use it for writing, taking exams, using it when giving speeches, and turning it around when I am bored. It is a sword in my hand as a student, giving me knowledge and confidence. It is just a small pen, but I have changed from being curious and unfamiliar with it as a child to holding it firmly in my hand. I already love and respect the pen because it writes my thoughts. And it is a universe and a world in my hands.
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Two imitations of prose
Two imitations of prose
Candles
I like candles, maybe because I love light and warmth. Look at the slender flame swaying its figure and humming a hot song in the slightly cool air. My heart trembles! At this time, my memory was also hot, and I excitedly remembered too many stories in the candlelight...
My most immature and clumsy candle was hiding in the pumpkin lantern made by my grandfather.
When I was a child, my grandpa lived with us. Grandpa is the "cook" of our family because he can always combine various ingredients to make delicious meals. One day, I suddenly asked him to make a jack-o'-lantern for me.
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"Pumpkin lantern? What is it for?" Grandpa asked strangely.
"It's just for fun. The teacher said that the West celebrates Halloween, and children like us all have jack-o'-lanterns to play with." I am naive and stubborn. I just think that if foreign children can play, I should also play. I told my grandfather in excitement, but later I didn't realize how important it was, so I didn't ask any more questions. Really, I completely forgot about the jack-o-lantern.
"蕖蕖, come and see your lamp!" It seems that within a few days, grandpa actually made one!
I was shocked. I finally remembered something and ran to the kitchen!