Descriptive Essay; My Perfect Place a television‚ a jewelry box‚ or a computer‚ etc. It wasnt real‚ but it was a great place to escape to even if it was just in my mind. It gave me something to hope... Premium Descriptive Essay Describing a Place Patdreka Williams 7-14-12 English 110 Journal Entry A Place When I was a little girl I dreamed of the most extraordinary room in my mind. Being one of the... Premium Descriptive Essay. My Favorite Place
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Shingle Runners The woman smiles from across the room‚ shadows and moonlight contorting her mouth into a cheshire grin‚ sly and bloodthirsty. God‚ she could kill me right now and I’d still love her‚ he thinks‚ What a fool; can’t even trust my own head around a pretty girl. Smooth sax and piano is marred by the skipping of a disk in the room across the hall and laughter and soft amber light spills under the heavy oak door; the telltale signs of yet another couple retiring from the celebration.
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Thus‚ comfortably seated with a pen on hand in the warm confines of my bed room‚ I started to pour down my thoughts into writing‚ quietly praying that he will be able to know‚ at least the extent of my emotions… Briefly written in a small parchment‚ I folded the paper into four and noticing how it started to our heavily outside‚ I pulled out my drawer and produced a red folded
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it was a cold grey day in late September. The weather had metamorphosed overnight‚ when a backing wind brought a granite sky and a mizzling rain with it‚ and although it was now only two fifty-seven in the afternoon the ashen hue of a winter evening seemed to have closed upon the hills‚ cloaking them in mist. It would be dark by five o clock. The air was clammy cold‚ and for all the sealed windows it still penetrated the interior of the carriage. The leather seats felt damp to the hands‚ there must
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Absolutely nothing in this known world can break the silence—the room was lifeless. The floorboard painfully cries under the teacher’s fantastic high-heeled shoes; it invades the monastic stillness. Under the scrawls of a madman‚ written in a jet-black marker that has seen the end of its days a long time ago‚ slivers of the once pure whiteboard remains. My eyes dart towards the window as I stare at the barren tree branches; they shiver‚ afraid‚ in the thick cold and velvety air of winter. As my stoic
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Descriptive Essay On a hot summer day‚ the only good place to go is to the lake. You would go out to the lake to enjoy the water‚ the sun‚ the activities that are happening‚ or just to be with family and friends. When you’re at the lake‚ there are some very distinct smells. The hickey smell of campfire smoke always lets you know that there are marshmallows and hotdogs being roasted. You’ll never want to touch your hair from putting your fingers on the sticky marshmallow‚ to me it’s just crazy
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Attitudes about Writing How do you feel about writing academic papers? Writing academic papers covers many topics‚ there informative and studious. It is different from ordinary writing; may require research‚ references and points of view. Academic writing teaches one how to capture and hold the readers attention. Although new in this arena‚ I enjoy the reading and writing of assignments. As time passes‚ I expect to improve on my writings. If you have enjoyed writing in the past‚ what
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local library. Everywhere you looked‚ there were neat rows of books‚ bean bags‚ and comfortable leather chairs. I can hear the muffled stillness and the occasional laughter of children‚ and I can picture the librarian’s blank face when I asked her about Cape Grim. I followed her instructions and found myself at Dewey decimal 994.4‚ Australia -- non-fiction. There was only a small stack of books from
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orthodontists’ antics. Three years of middle school finally behind her. Three years making the most awkward era of her life are in the past. People say that going through puberty sucks‚ but she had it worse than most. She had a hell of an experience. About the time she had her first period‚ she had something called The Expander put in her mouth. What it did was have her screaming in pain as that bridge of death tried to stretch the roof of her mouth because her mouth was too small. It didn’t actually
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Le Fou was a spectacular musician who loved to perform in front of spectators‚ and he loved playing all assortments of instruments. But by far‚ his favorite was the harp. Le Fou was infatuated by all string instruments‚ almost to the point of insanity. He enjoyed the feeling of the soft but coarse cords against his fingers. So when Le Fou heard the rumor of the golden harp he was obsessed‚ he had to find this “magical instrument”. Fortunately‚ Le Fou was born into a wealthy family and had inherited
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