“ Why , Yolanda , dear , that’s snow ! “ Zoelaughed . “ Snow “ . This moment reminds me when I was small . I wanted to discovery the world around me . All those misunderstandings , lack of knowledge and assumptions in my childhood sum up to create unforgettable , joyable and innocent memories .…
The glistening, white snow fell slowly to the ground outside the window. The distinct shapes of the snowflakes shown; the light from the street lamp seeping through the cracks. The mumble of the heater in the corner of the room; the faint sound of the blood dripping onto the floor were the only sounds. He lay there; motionless. The thuds were entering the silent room once again. The creaking of the wooden floor grew louder and louder. Still the light of the street lamp shone through the window and onto the far wall. The nasty figure walked into the murky room. Only its shadow appeared on the far wall behind it. The boy in the bed was Eli. His tiny eight year old body was red with his own blood. Then……
The snow danced down like a cloud had just exploded in the sky, covering a foot of the ground.The frigid air could make you shiver in a second. Ice covered the road like an ice skating ring. Oliver knew he shouldn’t be outside but he just had to get out. He loved the winter and was amazed at God's creation. He slowed down while turning the sharp turn. If someone wasn’t careful they could get into an accident on this turn, Oliver thought. Speeding up a little he saw what he thought was a car in the ditch. Oliver hated accidents, but he had to stop. He pulled over and started walking towards the car. It was a blue car that was in really good condition. He hands were numb by the time he reached the car. He opened the door and saw…
You feel the cool air warm up around yourself. There is a pleasantness that can only be found in these warm winter days. Birds squawk overhead. In a pack they fly in v’s. You wanted to fly, but the dream fled after you jumped off the deck. Birds gain height, you gained a broken arm. The birds slow and descend onto the small patch of grass to your left. Wildlife is all around you, but the adults don’t seem to notice. Not far ahead, a squirrel shoves acorns into his mouth, climbing up a tree he deposits his cache into a hole. He runs down the tree to start the process again. Nature is a cycle, a loop that won’t…
As I crossed the road with my dog Henry, I could feel the frigid winter breeze on my face. Then I felt a snowflake land on my nose like a plane landing after a long flight. I didn’t like this cold weather at all but I had heard many children around me cheering and laughing. I heard things like “woohoo it is snowing” and things like “oww don't throw snowballs at my face”. That last one made me chuckle a little bit when I had heard it. Then I heard someone yell my name, which is Brian by the way. So I turned around and felt a big snowball hit my back.…
It was an oddly quiet Sunday morning in the middle of December. Clear skies, forests and beautiful snow-capped mountains dominated the views from my front porch. The temperature was mild, one of those days you could wear a thin sweater and be a little chilly. There were no birds chirping or butterflies fluttering, as they had all left to the south to find a more suitable environment for them or died. I had missed this type of day when you could relax in the peacefulness of the quiet morning…
He squinted through the thick snow swirling in the air. As Jonas peered through the snow, he became aware of the silence. There was no noise, no singing, no music. Had he only imagined the warm, friendly lights? Was he just making up the music? No, he could still see the flickering, colored lights and the music was altogether a new sense-surely he couldn't have made the glorious sound up.…
Robert Frost’s poem “Acquainted with the Night” is told from the point of view of an unknown person. This person tells a story about how he/she has taken numerous late night walks, specifically in the rain. Using tone, diction, the title, structure imagery, and language, Frost writes a poem about a person’s late night experiences to relate to similar experiences that a reader may have encountered.…
I was so tired, even attempting to keep my eyes open was a struggle. My whole body was achy after a hard day’s of school work, constantly staring at a computer screen and typing away, just to finish an essay. My pale white hands, frozen by the air conditioning blasting on high, were holding on to the steering wheel like a person gripping the edge of a cliff, hoping not to fall into a dark abyss. My brain wanted to give in, to remain in the sleep that I kept dangerously drifting in and out of. I took a look outside, the road looking meek. The rows if brush hoars any objects spattered off the road by vehicles in the August sun. It felt like I was going around in a circle, my tires skating around the bends and turns of the road. I felt maybe I should slow down so I do not lose…
The sky is clear as the deep blue sea. The main focal point was the bright orange full moon, which is accented by the glitzing stars. The reflection of the moon stretched across the lake in the country pasture to my left. The wavy water caused the moon to move as if it was a boat in the middle of the lake. I strolled along the wooden bridge as the moderate, meek breeze brushed the hairs on my skin and my nose. There was a continuous melody of insects singing, while the owls, frogs, crickets, and other night creatures blended in like background singers. The planes soared through the sky, displaying an array of lights, which appeared to be shooting stars. The deer and foxes, as well as other wildlife, welcomed themselves to their playground as they ran, jumped, crept, and played…
The familiar echo of fast paced foots steps approached, my eyes low with my hood on. The ground was damp and cold, the setting sun futile as a source of warmth in comparison to the wind which chopped at my cheeks like jagged knives, my clothing insufficient on the freezing July evening. I distinguished the walk as that of 2 females, my daily routine improving my clarity when listening to passers by. I’d become accustomed to the city life, the familiar smell of freshly roasted coffee beans, the jingle of bakery and butcher bells as they open their doors at the crack of dawn, signaling the start of a new day.…
It was a grey afternoon with a dull sky. The wind was sighing in the tree top and boughs moaned. The dark, ragged and ominous clouds drifted over. Surprisingly, instead of beating down a curtain of rain from heavens, it only brought drizzle. “I wish it would rain cats and dogs.” Sylvia talked to herself while she was sitting in a bus looking up to the eerie sky.…
In the first stanza, the setting is developed with the use of words ‘night’ and ‘snow’ and they both carry negative connotation. Snow is employed throughout the poem to show the lack of identity; it also has characteristics of cold and formless white sheet. This observations show an image of snow falling fast, destroying the beauty of the field and covering up everything that is living. Similarly the ‘night’ has a negative connotation of darkness, the blackness and visionless that…
I hated winter, the days were short and the nights were long. The howl of the wind in my ears as it blew hair into my face, making it difficult to concentrate on the environment around me. I could feel the cold nipping at my skin, the air turning cloudy in front of me as if I was breathing out smoke. This was winter.…
Snow started to shower as if on a peaceful rainy night and I look for any opening, trying to escape this creature that was following me. I could make out a large building figure ahead and ran directly to it, exhorting my energy as I advanced through the shivers in my body and aching bloodstained legs. An old tainted church-like mansion appeared as the fog cleared and I forced my way up the frigid sleet hill and onto a rusty pavement beside the building. I leaned upon the 5-metre tall wooden door trying to hear any sound coming from inside the outsized building, trying to sense any civilisation as the sky slowly turned into a rich black shade. I knocked onto the polished door, trying to depict a reaction from the owner that might've lived in this secluded place. Lights started to rapidly appear above the door and forming a luminous loop around the entire mansion, whilst the door blew open with such force that I was knocked back onto my spine. I tried to scamper away on my knees as a spine-chilling sensation started to form from what was a supernatural…