As I pull up the old degraded driveway‚ the old‚ abandoned asylum stands in front of me. I stop my car and take a deep breath before getting out. I slide out of the car‚ and walk up to the large wooden pine door. I take another deep breath‚ looking for fresh air‚ but the musty odor of the decaying asylum suffocates me. My heart is pounding in my chest as I place my hands on the door‚ waiting to push it open. The old door feels rough under my soft hands. As I tough the door‚ I imagine all of the
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Writing A Descriptive Essay To write a descriptive essay you first need to choose a character. It may be heroes‚ monsters‚ or none of these. You need to search for a book or poem. After you read the book or poem you choose the character that creates a distinctive impression on you. It may be from major characters to minor characters. You have to focus in the one scene where the character you choose attracted your attention. Use all information you can find from that scene in order to make
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Descriptive Writing- Brodie Dashwood Rocking from side to side‚ I ran away from every problem I had in my life that was suffocating me. Now part of this included when I had to risk my life in need for that freedom I had been craving. My journey began 20 years ago‚ 5 whole years before I was locked down in the world’s highest security prison. I was ordered to the place that I considered hell on earth contained by a wall the height of a sky scraper drenched in high voltage barbed wire. Still to this
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Descriptive writing on satis house As I approached Satis house inside of my carriage I could feel the nerves growing inside of me. I got close to the rusted gates and stopped I had to get out and walk up to the old withered gates. I felt my feet stick to the ground and I found it quite hard to breath. The sounds around me was getting very load like I was standing next to a roaring plane even know I was getting further away I could hear the crows in the background and the snorting horses. When
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such “small” presents as $100 Lego or a Barby’s house in 6 rooms and garden furniture. Therefore‚ I thought that Disney Land was a good invention for loving parents.” The Sacred Grove of Oshogbo by Jeffrey Tayler The following essay contains descriptive language that helps to paint a vivid picture for the reader of an encounter with a man. “As I passed through the gates I heard a squeaky voice. A diminutive middle-aged man came out from behind the trees — the caretaker. He worked a toothbrush-sized
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control. One signal from the conductor‚ I let my heart do all the work. The music that we were playing was Tchaikovsky’s Marche Slave. With my violin in hand‚ I became a soldier marching into war. My violin was my weapon. The music began as soft‚ quiet pluckings from the cellos and violas preparing for war. Within
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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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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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I awoke that day to the sounds of men yelling and whips cracking‚ people screaming and chains rattling. I had no idea where I was. Though I had a splitting headache‚ I could tell I was moving‚ on something like a stretcher. I opened my eyes slightly‚ and saw that I was being carried by some men who appeared to be Fulani‚ along some sort of beach. I assumed I was on the coast‚ for when I glanced toward the sea it appeared to go on until it met the horizon. After understanding where I likely was
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