Sitting upon my bed, I was preoccupied with a Samsung tablet held loosely in two hands. Looking at this exercise on Iwaku, I sit with my back against the black and white pillows that were currently resting upon the wooden bed frame. Casting my gaze downwards, I see that there are small, white dog hairs spotting my thick, black comforter. My bed is currently made neatly, as per usual thanks to my distaste towards messy covers. Tilting my head to the right, I see one of the white painted walls a few feet away. Hanging upon the wall is an old painting of an intricate black and white Chinese dragon, complete with a signature written in one of the many Chinese languages. As to which one exactly, I am unsure, as the painting was given to me as a gift with little explanation. The dragon's mouth is opened in what looks to be a snarl, its body coiling through smokey clouds.
Resting against the wall near my bed is a grey, wooden dresser that contains a fraction of my clothing. Atop it are various items. One is a short lamp, currently turned on to cast rays upon the dim room. Under it is a digital clock, numbers displayed in red lighting. It sits upon a small box with a wolf's head displayed on its surface, the contents being various tiny keepsakes I have collected over the years. Some of the contents include a small, black and purple bean given to me from an old friend years ago from a time when we attended a garden festival. Another is a bone fragment given to me by my cousins. It had been snagged from the ground of an old Egyptian tomb they had happened to visit, potentially belonging to a long deceased royal member or servant. Many other objects are stored within the confines of the box, too many to describe in detail.
Next to the box and clock are a few discarded guitar picks I was given as a gift, since many of my family members don't realize that I play bass guitar and don't need any picks. They lay there, useless pieces of decoration. Next to that are some loose papers as well as a favorite necklace of mine that I have been meaning to repair, it's chain having been snapped recently. Propped up in the small space between the wall and the dresser are a few peculiar items. There is a golf club that had been purchased from Goodwill last year for a low price of two dollars, having been bought as a joke. Next to this is an antique Spanish decorative short sword with a dull blade and cheap jewels on the hilt, having been bought for ten dollars out of impulsive behavior and the love of blades. Towering over the club and short sword is a three and a half foot medieval long sword replica given to me as a gift, half out of a joke, and half of the reason being that I really do have a passion for swords. It is also decorative, but it is heavy and a plastic cap guards the end since its point is still sharp. I keep such odd items as my arsenal against any potential animal or human intruders that have yet to make an appearance when I'm home alone at night. Despite the lack of danger, I still have the knack of carrying these objects around when frightened or merely for fun, the medieval long sword being my favorite.
Looking to the left of my bed, I see a grey cabinet that currently holds the amp and cables for my bass guitar. The amp is relatively new and very valued, as it cost me about 300 dollars and took a year or so to save up for. It is a 100 watt Fender Rumble and its sound is amazing, various controls upon the top allowing for control over the sound quality. I have yet to fully discover the purpose for reach knob and button. There are also old, heavily wrinkled and smashed sheets of tablature and a diagram displaying the key of each fret. Hanging a few feet above this cabinet is my bass guitar. It is a Pearl White Ibanez short scale bass, the neck shorter to accomadate my small size and lack of reach.
On this side of the room the wall is dominated by a sliding, glass door. The black curtains have been parted to reveal the wooden wrap around deck. Outside it is dark, the sun making its descent. There are many trees and various forms of vegetation, since my home is located within acres of forested land with the nearest house being up the very long, gravel driveway. A bridge connects to the driveway, allowing passage over a currently shallow creek thanks to drought. The stones protruded from the water, looking dry and parched.
In my ears are my trusty earbuds, Hollywood Undead songs filling my hearing. One side is broken, most of the music coming from my left ear. I sit here, typing, pausing only to look around my room to better describe its appearance.