Descriptive Essay Hearts were racing‚ twelve to be exact‚ lungs were being constricted tighter and tighter with every second that went by‚ joints were being pushed to their limits as their limbs stretched the farthest they could reach‚ and yet these twelve people were still able to ignore their injuries. All they revealed was happiness. There was no pain to be seen. No acknowledgement of misery because they all knew they only had those two minutes and thirty seconds to give it their all. Any sense
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Icesus Holland Brenda White English 101 16 September 2013 Descriptive Essay The beach is one of the most beautiful places in the world. Before visiting‚ I had only been to the four states‚ which is the stringy grassy fields‚ the forest of trees‚ the smelly white and black cows and pink curly tailed pigs. See I had never seen any other states but Missouri‚ Kansas‚ Oklahoma‚ and Arkansas. I love the picture in my head but it was nice to finally see something different. When my boyfriend
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Ivory Koehn 9/10/2010 Descriptive Essay Under The Raised Hand Prologue When I was a young girl learning about life and love‚ I always thought that some man would sweep me off my feet and it was my fate to be with him and only him. My mother was not a big fan of love and fate. She didn’t have a very good history of guys and relationships. She would always tell us love was not a reality and we should find someone with a lot of money. My mother is a strong feminist woman and I tried as hard
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17‚ Kevin’s face was framed with thick hair. The blazing red curls were blinding. The shade looked like cheap lipstick against the pallid‚ wrinkled sheets of the hospital. The color of Kevin’s skin was smooth and dark brown‚ resembling mahogany wood. The sound of waves crashing against the beach could be heard when looking into those crystal blue eyes. Those big bright eyes were enchanting and inspiring. This baby had a luscious powdery smell that was relaxing. The atmosphere possessed by Kevin
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mercilessly by the parasitic creatures. Huddled under a stack of rent papers and issuing copies and an ancient looking computer were a dark wooden desk. The long carved legs were pierced with intricate margins of indented wood. There were small flowers clinging to the wood spiraling upwards in a retarded fashion. The other legs were equally strangely designed and the desk had one drawer. A long flat ejecting tray‚ loaded up with papers and pens and strange files marked in Spanish. The desk was
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her fathers death‚ and how the weight of the family shifted from his shoulders too her shoulders after he pass. Katniss expresses her animosity toward her mother for leaving her and Prim to fend for themselves. “I thought of the hours spent in the woods with my father and I knew how we were going to survive” (Collins‚ 22). Katniss refers to her seeing the dandelion after seeing Peeta’s bruised face in the schoolyard and how that gave her hope for survival. Dandelions reminded Katniss of the book of
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intermittently around the plants as if to bring a little color to the dryness of the landscape. I pause as a butterfly with large yellow and blue wings flutters from flower to flower‚ collecting pollen that the colorful flowers so graciously provide. As I walk further into the field‚ I find myself under a canopy of trees. The large trunks twist and turn‚ their thick roots planted firmly into the ground as if playing a never-ending game of Twister. Branches resembling fingers aged by years of arthritis
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English 1301 Week 4 The Narrative Essay My First Flight The seasons are approaching in which families gather to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas. This time of year does not carry the same feelings for me as they did when I was young. I am a military spouse and my husband has been away for most of our holidays. One peculiar Christmas I received the opportunity to spend the holiday with him this was my first flight experience. The morning of my flight‚ I got up at 2 o’clock‚ said a prayer
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but my mind soon focuses in. Automatically my feet walk the known path from my last class of the day to the stairs. Cold and cruel this morning‚ they are no longer a mountain to climb up‚ but an easy descension; I know my destination now‚ and the peace that awaits me there. Eagerly I take the first step downward‚ but I have forgotten my stiff knees moan in protest‚ resisting the orders I give them to bend. Instead‚ I make an awkward penguin-like walk down the stairs. My aching limbs try to tell me to
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hours of shut eye and I would be good‚ but it’s that time and I sit up. Eyes still shut sitting in my bed‚ I think about seeing my family and I get a burst of energy. It’s been two long years since the last time I’ve seen them. I’m going home! I walk across my room in the darkness of dawn and flick on the light. Smelling the dewy‚ clean‚ fresh air breeze by through the half open bedroom window‚ I hear the crickets squeaking and the birds talking. At least somebody else is up beside me on this Saturday
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