Descriptive Essay : Autumn And Disanje

When one thinks of a ballet they hear soft rhythmic notes and see elegantly dancing ballerinas softly tip-toeing around the stage. This is also what people in early 1900’s expected to see when they planned to attend a ballet. However, a couple of motivated artists in 1913 literally planned to change the design of ballet, music and dance forever. On May 29, 1913 a ballet named The Rite of Spring premiered in Paris, France. The original title as it translates from Russian to French is; Le Sacre du Printemps, meaning the rite of spring, but the literal translation from Russian to English means “Sacred Spring”. The ballet and music were composed by Igor Stravinsky, with the help of Nicholas Roerich, who proposed the general idea behind the

The short story, “Doe Season” written by David Michael Kaplan is about a young girl’s loss of innocence and hesitation towards womanhood. In this story, the protagonist, an eight year old girl joins in on a hunting trip with her father and some friends. During this trip, Andy learns that being one of the boys may not be what she aspires after all. A few literary elements Kaplan uses helps readers better understand the story while reading such as, the characters, setting, and symbolism.

I weave in and out of the last of the summer apple trees, beside the deep pool, the weeping willows cry out as the wind rattles their bones. The howling tempestuous wind carries me into a clearing where a little girl, with her hair like an inferno splayed around her head like a delicate band, lies asleep in the silvery moonlight. I fly right up to her and land on her chest, where a scarlet black rose lies dead upon her breast. I wake up. I don’t know where I am.

My shoelaces whipped at the backs of my ankles, urging me forward. Rain-drenched, I ran. I had felt the venom of desperation before, but never of this caliber -this was its purest form. It tasted of whiskey. I 'd never been fond of whiskey. The branches of the fir trees scraped against my cheeks and I forced myself to feel each individual needle. I deserved as much. His voice laughed “Come find me” amongst the trees, echoing throughout the forest. It was a wet winter, as wet as one would think a winter could be with Washington 's climate. I slipped on the moss coated roots and sliced my right cheek on a jagged rock. By midnight, it would all be over.

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

She ran as fast as her feet could take her. The moonlight weaved in and out of the branches illuminating spots she could reach. She did not dare to turn back to look over her shoulder because she knew it is how the killer always got the victim. Her white slip teared when it got snagged against a branch. Her fingers gripped the silk material and held it together by the tattered seams. She quickly began her escape once more and found a clearing from the icy branches.

The howls of swaying leaves cut through the grisly night. The only light ascended from the moon, though it was barley visible amidst the trembling towers of trees. Branches of wrinkled wooden limbs creaked and groaned as they swayed to the sound of the wind’s whispered secrets. Exposed, contorted roots sprung from the ground desperately trying to escape from the ravenous demons that dragged them down to a more hellish fate. Tortured screams of those doomed to a punishment of fire and brimstone erupted from within the deafening quakes of the woodlands, and the deep cackles of a hag could be heard faintly after.

Breathless, Alex ran through the forest. It was twilight, normally his favorite time of day, but this golden hour took on a malicious tone. These woods were full of weeds, slippery moss covered stones , and twisted, thorny vines. Alex’s foot caught on a snarled root, and he tumbled onto the cold dirt. Alex sensed something was amiss, and he knew The Beast was growing ever nearer. As Alex lay sprawled on the forest floor, a single thought ran through his mind. “I’m done.” with the will to live draining from him. Alex lay still in the dirt and leaves resting for his last time. The soreness in his legs was so unbearable he wanted the release of death; craved for it even. “Thump”....... “Thump” The Beast's feet approached slowly and

It was like two hands intertwining together when the moon’s light peeked through the gargantuan sycamore trees. We are on the treacherous run to freedom, and I am eager to get there. Because of my bistered skin, I was shackled and cuffed, and forced to work in a field my whole life without my family. If all goes well tonight, I will be a free man who makes his own decisions instead of having everything forced upon me by an austere master. It seems like we had been running for days and my feet had never felt pain this agonizing until now. We slid through the woods like a snake slithering towards its prey until we began to hear voices. They echoed through the trees and would not stop. Ducking behind opaque bushes, we waited for the signal

“Hey! We’re running now. Start moving.” I opened my weary eyes. In front of me was the dark face of the same woman who I talked to at dusk. Heeding her words, I rose and started moving to the exit of the barn, quietly evading the slumbering guard outside. I realized that she stayed behind for me and the rest were gone already. After we went over the fence, we started to run as fast as a tiger until we were out of breath and our limbs were sore. The weather was clear as day and the sun was right above me. Then, I heard the familiar sound of

Though she is weak, she struggles. I whisper soothing words to her as I carry her through the woods; if only she could understand that no harm will come to her by my hand. When she goes still, my heart twists in my chest. She has not left this world, I realize, but is staring at me with an intensity that makes the heat of fire seem dull. This is the first day that I have ever held a life in my arms, and it shakes me. Her soul is laid bare before my eyes, and I wish to shelter it from the snowfall. She does not see this, and though my words may be futile, they carry weight.

She said to herself scrambling through the forest ever more eager to get to the safety of the neighboring country of Salved. As she broke through the branches of a wild berry tree, partially covering her sent from bloodthirsty Shepherds chasing her, she found herself in a small little clearing about twelve feet across. Sunlight lit the clearing from two parted trees somewhere above, the only lighting in this cursed forest, towards the left of the clearing there was a mossy boulder with a tree growing around the backside. Towards the right there was a single tree branch that seems to existed on its own, pulled down by a perfectly seeming fully ripened red apple. Running down the middle of the clearing was a little stream. But as much as her legs yearned to rest on the boulder and as much as her stomach grumbled and her throat begging to be wet by the cold stream water she knew it was either just her imagination or a trap. Real or not she chose to avoid it running around the outer right side still unsealed by the

WILLIAM stood at the crest of a valley and stared down over his orchard. The trees stretched out in both directions in long, perfectly straight rows. The sun cut a path through thin, wispy tendrils of fog, and shimmered off morning dew that clung to the leaves and grass; the entire orchard glimmered. The apple trees reminded William of his former students at Beacon Academy, attentively arrayed before him, hanging on his every word. A crisp, late-October breeze swept across the valley, offering a subtle hint at the approaching winter chill. The trees were bursting with red and green apples, the branches bowing under the weight of the bounty. Men and women moved methodically between the rows, using three point ladders to reach the upper branches.

A painful groan sounded from somewhere unseen in the starlight, and I cautiously approached the trees to my left. I then remembered there had been a sharp crack, like a branch breaking in a spring storm. Emma was lying on the ground on top of what used to be a low wooden fence, the blackened soles of her feet facing me. The first thing that came to mind in that moment was that she had the dirtiest feet I had ever seen, and for some reason this bothered me more than the fact that she had broken what was probably national property. She grasped my sweaty palms in hers and heaved herself up, remarkable unscathed from her tumble. I suppose she was hurting a lot more than she could currently process. The pieces of fence, slick with humidity, lay splintered at our feet. Paler wood that had been freshly exposed with the break, stared at us accusingly. Without a word we continued onto the path that cut through to her

Misty dew covers the entire surface of the field. The yellowing corn stalks stand erect and proud until my grandpas tractor comes to end their growth. Autumn slowly weaves its way in and leaves a stain of brilliant color in its wake. Not everyone enjoys such colors, but when you take a second to step outside your doorstep, and look at all the wonders that surround you, you’d be surprised at how marvelous the world can truly be. To me, Autumn is a time for relishing in the colors. Soaking in the oranges and reds while sitting by a warm fire. It’s a time for remembering that everything does end, but it does not have to end in the dreadful way we think it will. Autumn is a time for the closeness of others to keep out the chill of the morning and the starry-eyed darkness of the night.