"Why gardening is a creative hobby" Essays and Research Papers

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    Ryan’s Story – Untitled so far You stay in your room like a locked away Rapunzel. Well not locked in fact – matter of the choice rather. It’s like fiery dragons attack you every time you attempt to escape your temple. You study‚ you work‚ study again‚ read some‚ then you study some more. It’s the same repetitive routine throughout your days between the same four egg-white walls. ‘No common sense!’ you are told. ‘None what-so-ever’‚ burns your delicate skin. What are you supposed to do? Visit

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    Descriptive Writing – The forest. [pic] A crisp winter morning and there was a frosty chill in the air. A sweet surrendering scent of the moist morning dew that cascades all around the sublime forest. The mixed cool autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; they were in the motion of turning a brittle brown. There was the sound of shattered glass that emphasised the leaves being crunched‚ as if you were to step on them‚ pushing their papery remains deep into the

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    Creative Writing (Fear)

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    FEAR. Opening the book ‘Raw’ penned down by Martin Crowe my eyes fixated on the following words‚ “Fear . That emotion I have fought all my life . Fear of rejection. Fear of unworthiness. Fear of failure. Fear of not moving forward. Fear of being dropped." Seeing and reading these words sent jitters down my spine and my head started reeling ‚ re-calling my experiences as a budding youngster in the gentleman’s game in all whites and a bright sun hat . I was like a new born calf trying to

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    Fear and adrenaline flowed through me‚ Gunpowder’s mane whipped at my face. With inhuman speed‚ the dark figure was close behind me‚ a sound of hooves becoming louder. It was a nightmare had turned into reality. The bridge...I had to reach the bridge… The sanctuary of the bridge was ahead of me and I cracked the whip and Gunpowder whinnied and raced on ahead‚ an unstoppable force of nature. At last‚ I had reached the bridge. Turning to face the dark figure‚ he had pulled the reins‚ forcing his horse

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    Creative Writing Swimming

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    My alarm interrupts my sleep. I jolt out of bed. My feet pad across my room; I blindly throw on my bathers and grab the usual apple and berry smoothy. I slowly jog out to the car‚ I see mum waiting with the headlights on‚ lighting my way‚ the warmth of the seats are nice in the early morning. We don’t speak on the way to the pool. When I take off my tracksuit I feel uncomfortable‚ I’m too bulky‚ my body is uncomfortable. My body glides through the water creating small ripples along the surface. The

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    Looking into the distance; there floated an insignificant‚ lonely cloud. Separated from its kind. Roosters were cooing early in the morning and her eyes came to life. Just another day. Better get ready she thought. Tired from sleep‚ Angela threw on her largest coat and searched for the door. There was a tingling sensation once she stepped in the white tiled room. At the polished sink‚ Angela reached for her worn-out toothbrush and the Colgate and paused when she caught her reflection‚ watching herself

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    Aftermath The  battered‚  bruised  buildings  are  bandaged  in white scaffolding.  The  quad  is a temporary emergency  room  bustling  with  activity.  It  is  scattered  with  equipment  like  triage  after  an operation.  The  gashed‚  cracked  and  slashed  ground  is  stitched  together  with  staples  of asphalt  everywhere‚  just  holding  it  together.  The  missing  slate  is  like  gravel  rash  on  the roofs.   The  days  are  cold  and  short.  A  thin  layer  of  grey  light 

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    Creative Writing of Rocks

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    I. The Story of Baseball Player A. Magma Mike 1. Magma Mike was a rookie just starting out in the Rocky League Baseball. 2. He played not too much and was mainly a bench warmer. 3. He cooled and hardened‚ improved on his skills and became known as Igneous Iggy. B. Igneous Iggy 1. Igneous Iggy was a shortstop playing for the Seattle Sedimentaries.. 2. He was a 10 year pro and hit 46 Rbi’s‚ and 15 Homeruns

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    Creative Writing: Anastas

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    Isabella let out a sigh upon being called deputy commander she couldn’t help but laugh at the ever so formal title shaking her head slightly at the woman. " Anastas I promise I won’t rip your head off if you call me Isabella~ You can even call me Bella if you want."‚ Most of the newer people did infact call her deputy commander but those that knew her for years like Anastas called her Isabella or Bella for short. " I can’t take the credit on this one~ I just bark orders. If we didn’t work in a unit

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    Creative Writing: Beowulf

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    “Impractical?” Hennit took the lapel of her red tunic‚ embroidered in gold and blue‚ between his fingers. He rubbed the soft fabric and gave her an inquisitive look. “That’s different‚ I don’t wear this to fight.” Hennit shook his head‚ “no difference‚ fight‚ sail‚ eat‚ love‚ all practical‚ all impractical.” Kiennan thought about what he said. She watched him turn back to look out over the railing. She stepped up to the railing and braced her hands against it. “I don’t understand‚” she admitted

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