Cockatoo Descriptive Writing

“ahhhhhh! ” I heard a scream as i ran downstairs, my eyes began to tremble as i cried “ mom , Dad!” my hands began shaking as i walked up to the men in the mysterious mask. I asked the man “ you did this!” as I screamed “ I will kill you bastard!” I went in for a punch he blocked me and cut my hand, as blood flowed from my hands i screamed “ Ahhhhhhhhhh!” The men handed me the knife and he jumped out of the window. “ Mom, Dad are you okay?” I asked them, “ the diamond dragon!” said Mom. A cold wind blew out of the window, my Mom’s head dropped to the ground, and that was all I remembered. I was only 17, my little sister who was 4 at the time didn't know anything that happened. I was blamed for my parents murder. They took away the only thing

I had just gotten home from school and was standing before my front door starring at it in apprehension of what would most likely greet me on the other side. "Hopefully, today's different," I thought tiredly. Opening the front door I stepped silently inside and quietly closed the door then headed towards my room only to pause at the bottom of the stars as I realized there was no sound coming from upstairs like there usually was. I resumed walking up the stairs thinking to myself "wow, for once they've actually considered that they have a son living with them." At least that's what I thought until, right as I was about to enter my room, loud moans sounded from two different directions. "Or not," I thought in annoyance and slammed my door which did nothing to stop the moans.

I could hear mom yelling my name from a distance, a sad worried tone of voice. Throwing my door open to run to mom not knowing what’s going on. I was quickly stopped by a bright light hitting my face. Making me close my eyes for a second or two. I saw the kitchen in a great ball of fire. Flames spreading from the laundry room all the way to refrigerator made it seem like the rest of the trailer was gone. I quickly shut the door to the room, stunned by what I had seen but still having the courage to keep it together and wake up my sister Liz. The odor of burning wood and the air getting thicker makes It hard to breathe but we both made it to the front door. We aren’t able to open it because it had one of those public restroom looking locks tree feet above the door

I jumped through the kitchen door with the intent of regaling my family with a tale of the firetrucks and ambulances which raced by me during the bike ride in pursuit of their own mångata, but the thought elapsed as trivially and quickly as the vehicles had passed me on the road. Instead, I waved at Mom and Dad watching TV in the living room and headed upstairs to the rhythm of the sirens stuck in my ears. I've always abided by the theory that my bedroom should be a zone solely of relaxation, so I was a little startled to hear the phone binging: “Jake Robertson just died in a car accident,” the screen told me. I pulled up the covers, and my head hit the pillow before the truth hit my

It was a hot, humid afternoon when I jumped off of the school bus and sprinted home. The first thing that I did was to kick off my shoes and threw my book bag onto the ground with my books scattered all across the floor. I ignored the mess that I just made, and darted towards my brother’s room. Banging on the door with my fist, I couldn’t stop the adrenaline rising from my body urging him to play. He opened the door and his face cringed as he shoved something in my hand and slammed the door shut right in front of me. I continued to bang on the door and yelled for his name. For a constant five minutes, there wasn’t any noise coming from the other side of the door as I slowly sat on the ground and remembered that I was grabbing onto something.

During the summer of my sophomore year, I spent several days working for my father’s friend, sweating in the scorching sun and building up thick, rough calluses on my hands. Jack Prince was a strong minded, grey haired, retired chemical engineer. He owned a beautiful blue house in a quaint neighborhood in Green, Ohio where he lived with his wife, Barb. When he turned 40, Mr. Prince was diagnosed with a form of ALS, eventually debilitating him to only using a scooter to get around his house during warm summer days. Because of his condition, he needed help to work on projects that he was not able to do by himself around his house. I invested numerous hours that summer organizing his small work shop in the back yard, painting his stained

My breath forms small clouds in front of me as I push through the bitter wind, my bag's straps digging deep into my shoulder. Reaching the glass industrial door, I swing it open, welcoming the rush of warmth on my face. I climb the four flights of cement stairs to the third floor, my boots and heavy breathing echoing off the walls. The thick steel door swings open revealing an art studio with its own character and energy. Patterned cotton drapes spill out of the bins while rolls of canvas gather pastel dust in the corner. I plop my burlap tote and camera bag down next to Greek plaster busts and one of the many easels that litter the area. The strong smell of oil paint mixes sharply with the smell of turpentine and cleaning chemicals, overwhelming my senses.

With gigantic fear in my brain I ran to the kitchen. The kitchen is a great base for armory. Well, I was thinking smart, i took the best weapon of all, a broom. The deadliest of them. I was like a ninja, more specific like samurai is running through the hall to the door. My mind was not thinking, couldn't imagine who was it. Because I knew my parents never come that early. And they boycott to open the door with the key, they knock. And it couldn't be my brother, he was in Ukraine. As I see the door open just a tiny crack, i close my eyes and hit. With all my power, i smack someone in the face with the broom. All you could hear is a slam of the broom. As I open my eyes, I see my Mom. With a enormous shock I was stunt. Couldn't talk or do anything. And there it goes , “ Are you kooky? What are you doing? What's the matter with you? With a big anger she screamed. Well, she never said that in English, she shrieked that in Ukrainian with inappropriate language. The translation is better. She walked in, like a bull entering arena. She closed the door gently. I was surprised that she never smacked it. “ Why did you do that? Did you become crazy with those video games? You always sit in that room and play your silly video games, can you at least go

After many confrontations with him, my father had finally told me what had happened that night. That night my father's life; including mine; had completely changed. My mother had wondered off into the spare room and never came out. She was 4 months pregnant with me and was going to turn the spare room into my nursery. However, it never became reality. My father never really knew what actually happened in that room but, he heard screams penetrating out from the room. The screams had rung in his ears and he had sprinted up stairs. My mother was pinned to the ceiling, stomach cut and flames barricading around her. A silhouette of a man, but the soul of a demon stood over the crib dripping blood into the baby's mouth, which was lying in the

“Emma honey, can you come here for a second?” My mothers soft voice calls from the downstairs kitchen. I grudgingly pull myself from the plush office chair, and stroll out into the light less hallway. Out of nowhere a forceful grip strikes out, engulfing my upper arm. My eyes widen with fear, but before I can chirp out in surprise, a soft hand is placed across my month, promptly silencing my shrike. In a fit of desperation I spin around to lock eyes with my mom, her expression spikes my heart beat once again, the obvious fear radiates off of her.

I threw the blanket and swung my legs over to the side. Maybe I’ll just occupy myself in my daily night reading. I walked over to where I packed my alchemy stuff. Close to grabbing my backpack, I was startled by a screaming Takashi. It wasn’t an ordinary scream, it was a bloody murder scream. Immediately, I rush down the small hallway to their room, slamming their door wide open.

The lonely night before work requires much rest, for there was no stopping of the labor at the factory. Every morning I would get dressed in my valued ragged clothes that I could barely afford, and put on the shoes I found on route to the factory. I mustn’t think of the tyrants that lead the horrific operations enclosed in the factory. I mustn’t think of the blood that will stain my delicate clothes and essential footwear, as they have already suffered too much. I must go on, for the riches I’ve been promised in this new strange land are ahead of this layer of Hell itself. They were torn, a gaping hole revealing my bare toes. They were a swell find in my situation. I started my long walk to the tall mechanical castle, and I could tell I was

I ran out of my parent's room and knocked on my brother’s door. Maybe he knew what was happening. After a few seconds of knocking, I swung the door open and looked inside. His bed was the same as my parents, the sheets strewn across the floor as if he got out in a hurry. I began to panic and ran downstairs to grab the phone. I needed to call someone and find out what was happening as soon as possible.

It was too quite, something is wrong. where is mom she is supposed to be here by now. She told me she would be here in five. she said that thirty minutes ago.) I hope she is not doing what i think she is doing. I’m starting to think i should have gone to cheer or track today. Im very anxious and scared. bang!( gasppppp) what was that i’m thinking. Ohhh mom where are you I send a million text. ( she never answers one of them). I hear something getting close so I inch my way a liitle bit further acting like I was looking for my mother. I knew i should have asked one of my freinds to stay with me but i did not want to make it seem like i was a scaredy cat. When I turn around i see a tall black figure with blood red gloves. He grabs me by

As usual the screaming starts, I am jolted awake in my comfortable bed, trying to force my young eyes shut. Tossing and turning my clock flips to 2:01am, I know I shouldn’t interfere with their arguments, experience has taught me that. My bedroom door slowly cracks open light from the hall begins to poor in my otherwise unilluminated room, the light begins to grey my walls and floors casting shadows in every direction. My baby brother sneaks into my room through the crack just big enough for him to fit, he steps so light he could be walking on clouds as he scurries across the floor and into my safe arms. His tiny three-year-old hand rap around my first three fingers on my left hand and his face buries deep into my chest. The weathered