The Giant Wheel By Peter Rosen

The day was relatively calm now. A slight breeze moved the blades of the enourmous wheel; the sluggish movement creating a chorus of creaks and groans. The building on which the giant wheel was mounted was tall, but besides that and the wheel, it was rather devoid of distinctive features. The building was brown, and it didn't seem to have an identafiable purpose.

The backdrop on which the building was set was dominated by something that could be mistaken for a large white sheet billoowing in the wind. The color of the sheet gradually darkened into an ominous gray that hinted of an impending storm, but for now, the weather showed no other hints of that immenent threat.

Surrounding the building-with-the-giant-wheel was grass and trees, mostly. The building was positioned atop a small hill, perhaps this position was optimal for the function of the building, then again, it could be because somebody simply decided to place it on the hill and it didn't really matter at all.

What dominated the scene, though, was what stood in front of the building. There were thousands of them, the color ranging from a golden sort of hue to a light lavender. They were arranged in rows, each row completely devoted to its own impressive color.