Descriptive Essay About The House

The street I live on has a lot of houses on it, and mine just happens to be one of them. Each house has its own driveway each one unique in its own way. Most of them are paved driveways, but mine happens to be made from hard pack. I can picture the driveway when it was built, still in the same place and still being made of rocks.

In my lifetime, I have lived in 4 different homes. None of them can even compare to the very first home I lived in, in my hometown of Allentown, Pennsylvania. It was a quaint duplex home that was on a tranquil street underneath a towering maple tree. Nothing will ever be able to replace its permanent spot in my heart.

“We should go into this alley to discuss this.” Epsilon said. “Talking about this out loud isn’t the greatest idea.”

There were many things about the house that I absolutely hated. First, the roses painted on the ceiling that my sister and I shared. At night, in the dark the flowers glowed looking like tiny eyes always watching us. We wanted to paint over the flowers, get rid of them, but we didn’t live there all that long so we never got the chance. The last thing about the house that we hated was that behind the house there was an old radio tower. My siblings and I thought that the radio building was haunted by a ghost, or some sort of evil witch. Once we walked up the hill that was home to the tower, as we neared the top the metal door on the building swung open. We were so scared, we ran down the hill to our house. We told our parents what happened but they didn't believe us. The next day we went back to the tower and the door was closed again, after that we never went up to the tower again. We were terrified and believed that it was haunted and afraid that the ghost who lived there would attack us.

"I know who you are, Miss Maxine," Luna said. "I had talked to your mother before, please take a seat." She turns her head to me, I was met with a scary pair of blue

It was summer time and I was finally home from college in Maine, My family’s house is in Upstate New York and I’m an only child so my parents didn’t need a huge house, Though the house was small it was very old Build and built famous Architect in Buffalo, New York. It was a wonderful house with French doors with a full basement and big rooms for all of us. We all enjoyed our times there the happy, sad, funny, and wonderful experiences, it wasn’t a place I would call “Haunted” Sure it had those creeks in the middle of the night and those weird cracks and groans from the age of the house. As far as I knew it was all Normal, But I was wrong...

The door slowly opens, but that's not my mom... The nightmare isn't over! Dark and cold. I'm shivering like never before. The burning bright lights flood my room.

“If you don’t want to be sliced into bits. Let us out. Damn it.” Kanda threats, as Allen adds, “Where’s the exit?

“Ok, I’ll think about it, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I’ll tell you tomorrow over by the north lockers, ok?” I said.

Around the block from my home stands what my family refers to as “The House on Maple Street.” Last night while eating dinner, this house became a topic of discussion. My family thought that there was something strange about this house, but we just couldn’t put our finger on it. We developed three different theories about what could be going on.

“I do not love you Emma, you keep trying to get with me. I do love Marissa what do you not understand!?” Luke shouted.

“So, this is what we get for arguing over bathrooms, the Sibling Sailer. How would this possibly going to work? We will still argue when we will get back. It’s not like this has been working for generations or anything like that!“ Cassie

“I don’t think they like us,” Henry commented. I began to crawl into the little exit tunnel but he stopped me. “I’ll go first , in case there’s danger. I got us into this mess. I ‘ve got to get us

For the past three hundred years I have been sitting in the same spot all day long. I was buit in the worst neighborhood. It isn’t as bad as bad as around Halloween night. Every single person who comes in my neighborhood on Halloween night, is dared to come inside. All the children have made stories saying I am haunted but believe me I am not. It wasn’t always like this. I used to be the best house in the neighborhood. I was filled with antiques. Furniture imported from Paris. I had parties lined up. Then the years past a storm hit and I was only a house no longer a home. Little did I know that it was all about to change. One day around October 30, the day before Halloween, a very nice young lady ,named Samantha , was dared to come inside.

My house contains many memories of my childhood is where I grew up, I know every part of it and its secrets locations. When I was a child I used to hide in the attic, nobody would found me because no one knew where it was. Every time I enter my house I get a feeling of welcoming and comfort, leaving the house would make me sad. I celebrated many things like birthdays, baptisms and graduations, it means everything to me. It’s a huge piece that gives me safety and protects me from the rain, sun and winter. My house also has protected me from the outside world and violence. I don’t think I would ever want to move out, the walls have many scars from crayons and holes. The floor needs remodeling but