Descriptive Essay About My Stuff

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

this water to survive, and our loved ones at home worried sick wondering if we are even still alive. Then again the view a had while doing this wasn’t all that bad. Most likely a better view than what I would have originally had at the resort we were heading to.

It takes up about two inches on my thick, and short middle finger. It is relatively small, yet has been proven to have great importance and meaning. This dented, imperfect circle fits loosely, and comfortably which allows for the constant usage and handling. It has a unique, and undefined shape that compliments the small circles within the accessory. There is a band of a perfect line of small circles that runs infinite in the exact middle of the accessory. The thirteen small circles sit in the small seats of metal all in unison and order. Sharp, pointed tips that look like the top of a vintage castle, pull the pendants on the outsides of the line, up and back down. If you cut the jewel in half, the sides are

Who can stand up to this creature like this? The wolf-like creature shows its dead eyes. It had an arched back and a hole through its stomach. Its cloak was black and oily, and it has 3 blood-red eyes on both sides. And a mouth that was boney and full of sharp teeth. It's clawing like meat-hooks as it uplifted the ground. I had a large but dull sword in my hands, it was heavy but manageable. The creature charged, but luckily, I dodged and ran. The creature was gaining on me. I needed to push through the forest, but it was hard since night fell. The brush kept hitting me. I could hear the beast’s footsteps. as they approached me. Until a cliff appeared ahead of me, there was no jumping, it was too high. I had to stand my ground. I turned around and saw nothing, not a faint sound. I listened as hard as an ear could, but nothing came but a still silence. The forest trees rustle their leaves in the cool wind. “Was it called off?” I thought. I needed to use this time wisely if it comes back. But, is it really gone? Or is it waiting for me to let my guard down? I kept my fighting stance, holding my sword very tightly. “So, you’re an intuitive one, aren’t you?” I heard a deep voice growl from the bushes. The creature sauntered, growling from the brush. “You talk?” I asked. “Don’t be foolish, there are many things you don’t know about me” I held my ground. I looked at my reflection in my sword. I saw myself, a mere ten-year-old, child, fighting a creature like this. My hair was

I wake up to the hot summer breeze blowing through my window. The sound of fans blazing is a pleasant comfort and I turn myself to face the hot white sun. For a moment I consider pulling the heavy black covers back over myself and ignore the fact that the day has already begun. But a reminder I have the day to myself pulls me out of bed. I drag my feet across the soft carpet and ideas for the day flood my mind. I catch myself in the mirror with a small smirk on my face, deep chocolate hair pulled loosely up and I decide today will be good. I open the door to my bedroom, leading to a dark wood staircase.

Rhythm. The sunlight lightly tapped a beat on my arms, warming me. The crate below me was hot to the touch. I felt the soft sand as I brushed my toes through it. The beach was full of crates. Heaps of them lay in the sun, tanning and conversing in their wooden ways. A few people populated the beach. A cluster of young men was behind me. I listened to their conversation. I had an odd habit of doing that- eavesdropping.

There is one place that overrules all the others. Only three hours away in Elk County lies my relaxing escape quarter. When I step foot into the old fashioned cabin, all of my troubles go away. I love that it resembles a completely different world. The whirling of the wind, the brightness of the stars, and the fragrance of the fresh air are just a few of my favorite things about spending time at my favorite place. The atmosphere of Elk County contains an incredibly tranquilizing sense. A lonely cabin placed in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone service and rarely any other people. However, if there are other people, we all share the same goal, to relax. The camp itself occupies the top of a popular mountain in Elk County called Winslow Hill. This hill belongs to a portion of the county that houses hundreds of camps, visitors, and the Elk County Visitor Center. This is an easily accessible area where elk can conveniently be seen. The cares of the world come off my shoulders when I step into Elk County.

Growing up being bullied, I never had a friend to help me through all of that crazy nonsense.

Soft, gentle sunlight slowly poured through the cracks of light pink curtains, thus, making the room a light shade of pink. The pink on a baby blanket, or even a newly budded rose. After all, Adelaide never failed to pleasingly decorate her room, let alone her house, look aesthetically pleasing to all the acquaintances she has over for dinner. Beep-Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep-Beep! The alarm on her smartphone went off, almost giving her a heart attack. As she sat up, she lethargically sat up, putting her glasses on, for she needs them to view the world more clearly. After putting her glasses on, she grabbed her phone, looking at the time. 7 o'clock. It was just the right time for her to get ready. Getting up in the morning, Adelaide only applied a bit of makeup on, while pulling her hair into a neat, brunette ponytail. As she looked in the mirror, smiling a smile that could intimidate any girl, she glides over to the closet, picking out the perfect outfit, a long sleeved button-up with a plaid skirt, and some lovely, black flats to match. Moving a small stack of clothing, in a corner, lay a picture frame covered in dust and what looked like dirt to Adelaide. As if it were a delicate infant, she carefully removed the grime and muck from the old vintage frame. It was of her mother and father when they were younger, therefore, making her jejune at the time. As she gazed upon the picture frame, a look of pain in her eyes. Moreover, she has not seen her parents in over a

I sat on the gentle slope of the hill overlooking the calm winding river. On either side of the river sits a brown canvas painted with the vivid colors of fall. Bright reds, oranges, and yellows speckled the mostly barren trees. On the ground, the once brightly shaded leaves appeared a dreary light brown. The fallen leaves shuffled with the light breeze, creating a relaxing sound like waves rolling on the beach.

The school was indeed an escape, and I had thanked god privately for Brendon Larson. I remember his personality vividly; his light humor and big glasses curved my lips for nearly the whole class. Especially anatomy and pathology, who knew the dull human body, could be so funny. He was generous with his happiness and sprayed a thin layer of hope on all of us from the front of the room. I used his humor as an anesthetic from the spiritual growing pains I was encountering.

I took a long look around at the school hallway as I waited at my locker for my friends to show up. It was cluttered with excitable teenagers who were all ready to get the Friday over with and start their presumably busy weekends. At the risk of looking like I was being nosy by observing my peers, I began shuffling through the very minimal items that the metal, navy blue container held as if I was looking for something that I needed. Thankfully only about ten seconds had gone by before my pointless rummaging was cut off once I heard the sound of my name being called a few feet away down the hallway.

Pebbles fly as my Jeep takes a corner too fast, my body lurching to the left at the sudden force of the turn. I’m finally on Green, a quiet dirt road that stretches from Bennett Lake to Parshallville, a scenic detour I ride down that lets me clear my head. I’ve only lived in the area for two years, but those two years gave me something timeless--a home. My home isn’t some conventional house in the suburbs, although I did live in such a house, but it is the roads and the fields that webbed their way throughout and past my city, and the memories I make with others while on them. I glance at my sister Ken next to me; her right arm stretching lazily out of the window, the other scrolling the radio’s knob, attempting to find a worthy song to play. She’s only nineteen, with hair shorter and blonder than my own. Her presence soothes me, as if every pleasant memory we grew up making together was somehow brought back through each of her smiles. She is my closest friend; she not only provides the part of my home that allows me to be heard by someone who understands, but also the knowledge that we cherish the same home. I pull my attention away from her, watching the fields and houses quickly slip by. The few farmhouses we pass begin to fade until all that borders the road are giant trees, each tipping over us to create a canopy of leaves.

The sound of car horns honking, trains whistling, and the sudden halt of our car in reaching traffic caused me to wake abruptly. “Welcome to the Bronx” read the overhead sign; a jolt of excitement ran through my body as we were approaching the Stadium. I then realized that I was going to witness the iconic Derek Jeter complete his final season. Childhood memories were reappearing as the loud mouthed New Yorkers Hollered and polluted fumes were settling. Bronx, New York is truly a place one needs to visit. After paying for an overpriced parking spot, we began our five block hike to Yankee Stadium. The hectic sidewalks were as gum filled as my high school desks along with promoters harassing pedestrians. It seemed as though no one got along outside of Yankee Stadium, aggressive expressions overtook the streets. Whether is was the ticket sharks, homeless looking for change, or cars looking to switch lanes, the chaos was all around.

My bedroom is a beautiful room with all sorts of trinkets. When you walk into the room the first thing you will notice is the smell of incents. My bedroom is beautiful because of the large mural and all of the interesting things on my shelves. In my room I have items from all over the world and the walls have a one of a kind mural, which was hand painted by my grandfather. My grandfather started painting the mural on my wall when I was three years old and has been working on it every time he visits my house. Additionally I have been collecting interesting things from countries all around the world since I was young. Every time I would go to a foreign country I would try to buy at least one item that I wouldn’t be able to buy in the United States. Also every time any of my family members would leave the country they would always bring me back some sort of item for my collection.