Descriptive Essay About My Neighbor

Before the car could come to a proper stop outside the building, I was out and hot-footing it inside, just so I wouldn’t have to ride the elevator up with him, or wince at another hurtful look from

I pushed the door with all my strength so those things wouldn't’ get in. With one last hard shove, the door closed and I locked it. Forceful thumps and kicks shook the door violently.

Before I could even properly pull myself out of my groggy nightmare, the door that allowed people to enter the shady barn I was in was ripped open.

Thankfully, I always brought my bag with my clothes to the field. I pushed the door handle down for the fifth time and gave the door a nudge, but it wouldn't budge. While brushing my fingers through my hair, I began thinking about a plan B.

It was a newspaper, I decided to grab it from his hand and return it later. He probably wouldn't even remember having it, but I wanted to be on the safe side just in case I got my ass beat. It looked like there was some key information on there that could clear my name. As I flipped through the pages quickly I didn't see any articles about a killer anywhere. Ugh, was this whole thing just a waste of time? A bunch of negative thoughts started to fill my head and then my body went numb.

The door was never fully repaired but a strong push would allow you to gain entry.

On a Thursday night, his friends said he was on his way to town with a big brown package. They seemed suspicious of him but he claimed that it was all just curtain rods for his boarding

An hour later we realized that the baseball could break the window in the door and we broke it and go out to see other people playing other different sports in their rooms trapped

able to get home because his bedroom is on the third floor of our house. This gave me another

On the third day Rodger text me saying he need more time to get someone to bring him over to the house to get his things. Thinking to myself we are not playing this game he is not going to hold me by a string leaving his stuff in my home. He wants to leave his stuff here so he will have a place to crawl back to when he feels like letting go of his other women. Not bothering to text him back I went through the house making sure nothing of his was left lying around and put it all in trash bags.

BAM BAM BAM, the door of our hut sounded like it was going to break off the

He took my bag and place it in the cruiser next to him and drove off.

I closed my eyes, exhaled as much as I could, and pushed. Face first, I was thrown against the first gate. My thoughts threatened to permeate

they were supposed to go back home after the party. So with great trepidation I opened the door. It

Personal Vignette: Every summer, a boy name Reginald offers to cut our grass. A week passes, and he’s back offering to do it again. This morning, he came to cut the grass. My dad pulls up in a crimson, silver luxury truck. From the front door window, I see Reginald staring at the car. My dad gets out of the car and waves at Reginald. My dad enters the house and proceeds to the kitchen; I follow behind him. My dad sits down at the kitchen table and tells my family and I how he got the car. Five minutes into the discussion, we hear a car horn. My dad walks to the front door window, and spots Reginald in the car. Quickly, he runs out side, then Reginald speeds down the driveway, makes a left turn, and coasts down a hill. We never