It is the first time we have been here since the snow melted. The grass is three feet tall‚ as are the yellow tansies. We drive in on the dusty gravel road‚ hauling our campers and four-wheelers. The road twists‚ turns‚ rises‚ and falls with every second we drive. After a long wait in the vehicle‚ we arrive. I take the first step out onto the rough‚ rocky lawn‚ breathe in the fresh air‚ and make my way to the back of the truck. Dad and I get the camper ready as my brother unloads the four-wheelers
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The cold winter snow soared through the night‚ high in the atmosphere‚ blanketing the dead forest of gray bark and howling wolves. Among the trudging pack‚ a blizzard was set and seen upon their sights as they prepared for the worst of the weather. White clouds escaped their panting mouths‚ the creatures headed straight into the calling moans of the night‚ where the dark sky was overtaken by the blank aura the zipping white speckles gave off. When the blizzard had passed‚ the wolves slept in piles
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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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The night was cold and quiet as if the whole city block went to sleep. With nothing but silent raindrops and distant voices‚ I wake up from my four hour slumber and looked at the time. Glancing at the clock on my computer‚ the numbers on the screen clearly says 12:20 pm. “Yeah‚ today is Halloween‚” I think to myself sarcastically. Suddenly‚ I hear a loud rumble‚ like the earth was being shaken for a firm moment. Realizing the sound‚ I end up finding out that my stomach was just hungry. Famished to
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Sutton was didn’t play by the rules‚ she made her own. When being the princess of the small‚ rainy town of Dawn’s Creek‚ that was just how she grew up. She wasn’t nice‚ she wasn’t caring‚ but she sure does love a challenge. Friday night at around 6 o’clock‚ when the ground was wet and the air was full of moisture but nothing fell from the sky was when she first heard the sound. The sound was like when the sun breaks the the fluffy grey clouds and it brings light even on the darkest of days. 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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“Thanksgiving Day” In September 1620‚ a small ship called the Mayflower left Plymouth‚ England‚ carrying on board 102 passengers. Of those were assortments of religious secessionists venturing to a new home to freely practice their faith and others lured in by the false promises of prosperity and land ownership of the New World. After an uncomfortable crossing from England‚ the ship dropped anchor near the edge of Cape Cod‚ far north from the initial destination at the mouth of the Hudson River
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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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