Descriptive Essay

Awaking from my daze to peer out the large, sweeping windows of the tour bus. Speeding past me is the Normandy countryside located on France's northern coast. After driving for an hour, we appear to be slowing down. The tour guide, Gilles, speaks over the intercom in his accented English describing the medieval structures of the town we are approaching. From a distance it appears to be a tourist haunt. Honfleur is a beautiful town that is different from anywhere else in the world.

One hot and sunny day, Brooklyn and her mom walked to the city from their new house. While they were walking they spotted some cute stores. SInce they loved shopping they stopped and looked at all of the stores.

Hour nineteen was halfway conquered. I could barely take it anymore as I glanced around the car for the thousandth time, it was still the same thing. Several guys crashed out in the back row of seats, the same grey interior with a touchscreen navigator on the dashboard that was set on the directions that read: DESTINATION: ONTARIO, CANADA in the glowing white LED lighting. The distance between the passenger seat and my legs seemed to get closer with every hour that passed by. My legs paid the price; when we got out of the car to refuel on gas, I stumbled out of the solid red Nissan as if I haven’t been able to walk for years. After the quick break, it was back into the car. All 6 of the Anderson men were piled in for the long voyage for our annual fishing trip in Ontario, Canada. The car was polluted with the smell of old fast food, greasy old clothes, and body odor.

I held her frail body, caressing her to my chest as she nuzzled her head into the crook of my arm. It only took one look into her glistening eyes and I instantly fell in love. She was shockingly beautiful, with glossy dark brown fur, beige streaks, and chocolate-swirl puppy eyes that would melt your heart. I decided to name her Bella, after my favorite Italian cuisine restaurant downtown. I carried her into the car, to bring her to her new home. Bella shivered as the brisk breeze brushed past her coat. My stepfather was waiting for us by the front door, and as I came to the steps carrying her, he gave a weak smile. Out of all 5 family members, he was the only one who wasn’t too fond of getting a dog.

    I stood at the outskirts of San Jose, California. The night sky was showing with glittering stars, shining the cosmos. The wind as cold as ice with the howling sound of wolves in the background. It was almost pretty peaceful and quiet except for the sounds of nature. My friends and I were camping by a campfire sharing scary stories. Our parents were gone to refill gas and get more food.

She is small and sharp and angular. Her elbows hurt when they're pressed tightly against you and her small fingers dig into your sides. She rests her chin on your shoulder and it sinks into you. Her fingers are flat- but you always remember them flatter than they are. In your mind, they are a 2D part of her. Her hair looks as if someone set it aflame. It reminds you of October, of the orange, crisp leaves. While you are in no way overweight, you are definitely softer than her. Her hands are delicate, you’re always afraid you’ll crush them, so you hold her hand loosely. You can’t decide what color her eyes are. At first, they seem blue, but the next time you see her you could swear they’re green, and occasionally they look a stormy grey.

It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear and the stars were shining brighter than ever. The soft breeze made the trees rustle. I liked that sound. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It made me feel relaxed. I was looking out my bedroom window thinking that nothing could destroy this relaxing, happy, and beautiful night, but I didn’t know what was coming.

Sitting on the soft sand, I look out over the ocean. The deep indigo blue waters roll onto the beach in sets of white top waves, making a soothing sound as they crash against the shore. I sit there, listening to the the sounds of the ocean, the slight breeze brushes my skin and the salty air fill my lungs. I feel a sense of calmness, a feeling I haven’t felt in years.

When living on campus choosing where to eat is tough. Choosing somewhere to impress a date is even harder. Living on North Campus has its perks; there is beautiful scenery, the building is older and full of history, plus you are close to a lot of classes and the student union. However, for those on North campus who don’t have a car and don’t plan on taking dates on buses, there are few options. One of those options is the 1899 Bar and Grill.

Allison Argent was a tall and beautiful person with dark brown curly hair, brown eyes, and deep dimples. She woke up and got ready and left for school like there was no way anything could go wrong, she met up with Scott her first love, he was co-captain of the lacrosse team. He was tall, had a slightly uneven jawline, and cute brown eyes. Stiles was a very sarcastic and funny person. He was tall and skinny, had brown eyes and pale skin. Lydia, Allison’s best friend was a light ginger haired girl with green eyes and the smartest person in school.

The three of us head back to the motel. We ask if we need to drop Bella off at her house. She responds with a quick, harsh no. I have the feeling she isn’t telling us something… We race to the room and I get there first. I laugh in Justin’s face as he pulls out the couch. We don’t go to bed immediately. We stay up talking.

WHooOooOsshhH. The sound of the tree branches hitting the top of the big Jeep, and everyone ducking their heads down to avoid getting whacked by the branches. As I look up into the big tall trees that loom over us, a shiver runs down my spine as I slowly realize what I got myself into. Twenty minutes ago, I had jumped up and yelled that I wanted to go with friends to the big bat cave while we were all sitting around a dying fire from the night before, eating some pop tarts at our big brown cabin in Camp Lakewood. My dad said it was fine but my sister, Julia, had to come along because he was staying back to cook or do some other dad thing. I looked around at the big trees and green spring leaves, the cool breeze whispers in my ear. All of a sudden, I hop back into reality by the huge THUD sound the blue Jeep makes.

Jamaica. A country roaring with culture and beauty, just as I had imagined. Water as clear as glass and a jungle that touched the sky. Locals singing and dancing everywhere I looked. In awe of my surroundings I stood, not knowing that the next turn I’d make would shatter the perfect image I’d built, and change my perspective completely.

The front windows were rolled down as wind washed through the steadily moving car. A strong stench of month-old fruit, cigarette smoke and general grime was hidden only by wafting aftershave, purchased at last weeks five dollar sale. Glued across the grey vinyl upholstery were crumbs of every imaginable food source, accompanied by a myriad of colourful drink stains. A selection of ear-aching top one hundred 80s hits hummed over the radio as the engine chugged and gurgled. The car was red, or at least it would have been before streaks of copper coloured rust engulfed the ageing steel. I looked outside at endless rows of traffic and smelt the the pungent car fumes filling my nostrils. Here in this rolling pile of grey, I felt consumed by circles pollution. Heat was creating shimmery mirages across the black bitumen surface. A long jail-like fence enclosed the miles of road, blocking any sight of green that lay beyond. It created an imposing shadow across the lanes of pavement lying in front. Like an old security guard, the fence was strong but silent, a present reminder of safety but also of restriction. The sky was coloured like a graphite sketch, a blended mix of greys. Flocks of squawking birds were flying overhead but their calls were barely audible beneath chords of blearing car horns. The air was heavy to breathe, a strange putrid cocktail of smoke, petrol and humidity. I turned my mind back to the station wagon as the wheels began to roll and the traffic finally

Stone, stone, stone, wood. Stone, stone, wood, stone. Stone, wood, wood, brick. I count things when I’m bored. So far I’ve passed twenty-one wood, thirty-four stone, and sixteen brick buildings since entering the city. It only took a damp half days ride to the capitol but it seemed farther away than ever before. Home. The sounds of playing in the garden. The smells floating from the kitchen. Father telling stories by the fireplace while mother smiles at each passing exaggeration. That was a great summer day. It would be the last one for quite some time, perhaps forever. No more beautiful greenery. No more delicious scents. No more wild tales. Not for me at least. Hopefully, my siblings can still have days filled with loving family.