"Descriptive writing on thanksgiving dinner" Essays and Research Papers

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    I rush downstairs as fast as a five year old with snow pants a pink puffy jacket could. I put on my warmest socks that I packed and sit down on the couch so my mom can put on my snow boots. It’s 2007 and my parents decide to take us to our grandparents house in Vermont for our school vacation. We’re getting ready to go sledding on the Mount Snow golf course. After we all have our winter clothes on‚ we head outside. We all gather up the best sleds and start our journey to the hill. Me‚ being the

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    Le Fou Descriptive Writing

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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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    Staphylococcus aureus: From a Spot to the Hospital The hospital is silent this morning‚ as the sun breaks through the blinds and casts off all the silver objects in the room. My hospital bed is uncomfortable‚ and it makes me yearn for my 100-year-old mattress and many unnecessary plush-pillows. The smell of bleach and cleanliness lingers in my nose and almost makes me feel sicker. How did I end up here? Well‚ that is not an adrenaline rushed injury or a freak accident‚ but something that started

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    Even though I have ridden the Magical Express bus from Orlando Airport many times‚ I always vibrate with excitement as I crane my neck out the window to get my first glimpse of Space Mountain. The monorail zooms beside our bus‚ pointing the way to the Magic Kingdom. Finally‚ we reach the sign announcing our arrival at the Magic Kingdom. When we walk through the dark tunnel at the front gate‚ it always feels as if I am entering another world. I see Pluto hugging a boy and signing autographs.

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    Bright white lights shining above my head‚ while I watch the red velvet curtains cascade to the sides of the stage. I walk up to a sea of unfamiliar faces‚ as I hear the deafening sound of my heartbeat fill my head with anxiety. My body as still as a statue. The first time I ever performed in a play was my last. I got in a role in seventh grade‚ I was playing the Fairy Godmother in “Cinderella”. Since I never had that much acting experience‚ barely even one year of theatre. I also haven’t had much

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    Tonight at 8‚ the kidnapping of Liam Quinn a local 6-year-old boy. Details to come. A dead air fell over a vacant room‚ filled with the elements of childhood. An unoccupied race car bed‚ stark blue walls‚ and an idle toy train complimented the eerie - yet somber - atmosphere. A dark shadowy figure lurked in the corner‚ standing ten feet tall - no definite shape. Slithering onto the floor and over the bed‚ the figure moved with haste‚ attempting to lurk as an agent of subterfuge. Arriving at the

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    I used to love Cape Grim. It was an unspoilt coastal wilderness. My father and I would hike there every weekend in spring‚ when the heat wasn’t yet unbearable and the fresh breeze would caress the light beads of sweat on our foreheads. We’d go down the hidden path on the cliffside to the white sands below. It was a tranquil place down there where the soft sunlight would shine down from the boundless blue sky‚ dyeing the sea hues of orange and magenta. Now I can’t even bear to think of Cape Grim

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    At the top of the Power Tower‚ the musical roar of the fair dimmed‚ letting in the screams of the people ready to drop. The ride burst into life and dropped the unknowing people to the floor‚ screams turned into hunger for another drop‚ adrenaline‚ excitement and joy. Shoved into by a chubby girl with an overly big candyfloss I smiled‚ I just took in all the chatter‚ excitement and the vibe of happiness bouncing off the overly flashy lights coming from every corner of the fair. It was magical. “Mummy

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    September 12‚ 1988‚ I was 13 years old. It was about week into the beginning of the new school year. Every child was very happy going back to school. I tried on my uniform the night before school. I was very excited‚ because it was first day at a new school (Highgate All Age). Most of my friends from primary school were also in attendance. I remembered listening to the radio and heard the meteorologist said‚ “It is coming It is definitely coming‚ Hurricane Gilbert is coming.” That was a day before

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    “We’s the same” Faces of disgust surround me in every direction‚ inching closer to me until I could feel myself pressing against the wall. Their eyes‚ cold and merciless‚ pierce through my skin‚ sending shivers down my spine. The strong scent of impending rain hangs in midair as the clouds loom in the sky with every shade of storm grey. Sealing my eyes shut‚ I breathe in deeply diverting the stares to face my rich‚ black complexion. A colour so gloomy should be invisible among the fair‚ but instead

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