Descriptive Writing As you enter the park by pushing its big black gate you can hear the shouting of kids and the air is filled with the voices of people. On the left and right hand side there are many trees with people sitting under them reading books or having picnics. In front there is a path that goes straight and then divides into two‚ one going to the left and the other to the right. If you take the right path you could hear the shouting of children louder than before. There are kids running
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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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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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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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Its frosty air makes warm breath turn to a slight translucent haze; continuos sound echo’s around the glossy polished tiling covering the whole bathroom. Being night only reflections from the window lightens the room‚ making silhouettes. Broken mirror shattered sharp like knives over the floor‚ picks up rays which dance along the window sill‚ moist air made it seem like a shower had been taken‚ letting off a putrid smell‚ as though something was withering away in the corner and had been forgotten
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The old trees bordering the fields acted like guards‚ muffling the sound of the busy city around them and creating a peaceful haven for the small creatures that lived inside. The only entrance was a narrow path that gradually widened as it ran through the field and up the hill. It was lined at either side with different types of tree; thin birches‚ broad maples and tall sycamores. Their long branches intertwined creating a golden canopy over the path. The only sound was the rustle of the leaves as
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I wander through the lonely street‚ there was only me and the gloom of the night‚ I lighted up a cigarette and I was thinking deeply about my life‚ yes my life‚ really messed up I don’t know any more what I was doing;I had a great family but I have left them for another women‚ she is fantastic but when I see my daughter.I understand that I’ve lost her‚ forever. Everything has changed not only my life but also every face I meet it seems different‚ my friends‚ but does the friendship exist? How
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My family’s bright‚ white van‚ that is covered in stickers of various colors and shapes‚ rumbles down the rough road. I look out the window to see the vibrant green trees‚ the grass that is a light shade of brown‚ and the occasional red and brown dead possum lying down in the middle of the road. Then I look out the windshield and see the cloud covered‚ dark sky that warns us of an upcoming storm. As we approach our white house with paint peeling off‚ I look out upon our yard that is filled with various
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