Example Descriptive Piece

The chill wind blows softly through the arches. Tall, leafless trees stand like overthrown monarchs in the courtyard, no longer proud and regal, but instead clothed in rags, scraps of bark that once shone a bright silver, now faded away to a dull grey.
Panes of broken glass litter the hall. The transparent hand of the Virgin Mary lies shattered across the rotten pews. The altar has been long since forgotten, plundered a lifetime ago of the ornaments it once held.
Scattered about the church are remnants of candles, old memories of loved ones that were lost. An old mouldy copy of the Bible is now home to the corpses of maggots, recently dead.
Sentient beings are a rare sight, the land lying empty, devoid of life and movement. The wind grows stronger, howling through the skeletal fingers of the trees. It is not long before one of them collapses, crashing down onto a gravestone inscribed with the name of Arthur Barren, 1887-1943.
The tree comes to rest on what is left of the Holy Cross. It seems that nothing survives, not even faith.
A loud thundering, a flash, and the sky is lit up with the blinding strike of a lightning bolt. It hits the church, causing the dilapidated stone to split. As the peak of the tower crumbles, the church bell falls, crashing to the floor with a loud clang that reverberates through what is left of the building, before the storm passes and everything returns to an undisturbed slumber once more.