Even late at night‚ the city couldn’t have seemed more alive. Navy Pier’s ferris wheels radiated bright red lights that pierced the dark night sky. The skyline glistened off Lake Michigan‚ which was now a greyish blue. The lights from the towering buildings filled the sky like stars. The red‚ blue‚ and neon yellow letters on signs flashed to get people’s attention. People on crimson red carriages rode by on the streets downtown
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English Descriptive Writing I was walking motionlessly scanning the street going to the shops‚ it was completely dark‚ the pavements felt as if they were asleep as it was so quite. I arrived at the shop reached down and picked up the ice cold milk white as a ghost. I purchased the milk with a two pound coin‚ as i was about to leave 4 youths hooded up and covering their faces also entered the shop and i could smell the overpowering smell of cannabis . I kept a safe distance from them. I walked
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Descriptive writing – Train I walked up to the main entrance from the usual route I took every morning. The walls of the Train Station were panelled with clean cut glass there was no brick to be seen only large panels of glass and the occasional clean cut white glossed plates perfectly aligned with one another and reflecting the early morning sun. The building was contemporary; full of sharp edges‚ corners and vertical lines cutting through the city vista. As clean and neat as the building was the
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One hot‚ humid‚ August morning around seven a.m.‚ the smell of the lake water had already filled my nostrils. The temperature was already in the eighties and my lip had developed a fine sweat mustache. I knew it was going to be a hot day. We had arrived at the landing site fifteen minutes early; this allowed me time to get my gear organized and wonder the quiet landing site. As I stepped out of the truck‚ the door squeaked open. I gave it a heavy‚ handed push to close‚ as it was old and didn’t always
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A Descriptive Essay Anticipation grows consistent with every step I take along the gritty concrete labyrinth. Beneath a blazing sun‚ the smell of baked asphalt‚ sugary cola‚ and pretzel surround me. I follow the unpainted‚ gray chain fence that leads me forward. Overhead the deafening whirl of metal and screams briefly fill the hot air. The consistent drone of greasy motors and hissing pneumatics engage my curiosity. My heart rushes like a child on Christmas morning about to receive a favorite
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still resembled glass displaying white sand littered with seashells and the natural soothing breeze relaxes my unusually tense body. Even the scenery is perfect at this time because the sun gives the colored tear shaped leaves a warm glow. Everything about kayaking is perfect‚ except for one thing…spiders. The kayak slowly waded through the now slightly choppy water‚ it had been 30 minutes on the water now and still no spider accidents. My mom saw that I was getting very nervous so she suggested
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The Trenches – WW1 I’m encapsulated in the unending nightmare of fear. The rain continues to bore on infinitely‚ pounding on the grubby ground and turning it into vast lakes of murky water. The miserable‚ grey clouds covered the sky‚ only letting a few rays of sun slip through. The monotonous sound of raindrops beating on the helmets of the soldiers thundered down like bullets. Everything was miserable‚ grey‚ and lacklustre. The thick layer of mud squelched beneath my feet as I struggled to walk
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experienced Loon Lake here in Northern California‚ and man was it a great experience! Loon lake is located in Northern California and is adjacent to the legendary Rubicon Trail. Our day started with meeting at In N Out in Auburn CA at 4:30 a.m.....well I was there at 4:30; Glenn showed up around 4:50 but I can say it was fashionably late‚ at least as fashionable as a person can be that early in the morning. During my twenty minute wait‚ surprisingly I wasn’t alone at this In N out. There were about three vehicles
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delved into the written word I began to recognize writing as a powerful tool for expression. I turned to poetry and short stories to capture childhood moments‚ expanding my vocabulary and becoming skilled at transferring raw emotions and ideas onto paper. My parents encouraged me to make frequent trips to the library‚ and I often staggered home beneath the weight of a pile of novels. When I entered high school as a published author and poet‚ my writing continued to mature. Although I still marveled
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My buckling legs trudge towards the fireplace to resume my task.The aching in my back resorts to unbearable as my hand reaches for the metal bucket.I squeeze the side of my rib in hopes of lessening the pain but it gets worse. It gets really worse. Unable to bear it any longer‚my knees buckle and I fall on the hardwood floor.My hands grip my sides‚hoping to stop the sudden pain‚but my attempts are futile. My bones crack as I crouch down in agony.But I know I can’t stay on the floor any longer
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