Descriptive Essay

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.

A long, ominous creak sounds from the hardwood floor at the end of my bed, and I gradually make out a large figure hovering over me. I focus on the shadowy silhouette in front of me, frozen in place while trying to get my bearings. Every blink allows me to see more details

“Fine,” I sighed as I rounded a corner into the bathroom. I’ll never forget this moment. In my flustered disarray, I didn’t see the huge puddle of water on the ground. I bolted into the room, expecting to feel the cool, smooth tiles on the soles of my feet. Instead, I felt myself slipping. It happened so quickly. I couldn’t think, it was like my mind had been turned off all of a sudden. I didn't think to grab the handle of the door, or to brace myself on the wall.

The frighteningly familiar smell of latex gloves and old hand sanitizer linger the halls of the hospital. I hate that smell, but it is forever etched into the creases of my brain. That smell is one I will always remember. My thoughts are pinging wall to wall like the ball in a pinball game. I find it hard to breathe, because I know what is happening beyond those doors into the operating room. It is May, extremely hot outside, but I am wearing a jacket; it’s too cold in this large, lonely building to be without one. I see all these people with burdened looks on their faces, waiting for their loved ones to come out from surgery as well, but yet I still feel alone. I walk down to the first floor and purchase an iced coffee from PJ’s and I take the elevator back up to the second floor. I pull out my phone to check the time and use my camera as a mirror to see how exhausted I look. I walk to where my mother and my grandmother are sitting, looking just as exhausted as I.

The quiet chatter around me becomes louder as my senses sharpen, finally waking up. The air that I breathe in is hot and stuffy, accompanied by the deep brown color blocking my vision. My mind races, trying to recall what happened. Before I can ask what's happening, the sound of squealing metal makes me groan in pain. The ground bumps around, confusing me. “Hello?”

The corridor was quiet, the only thing to be heard was the ticking of a nearby clock. Butterflies swarmed in the pit of my stomach; my black flats pinched my toes as I forced my feet to pace around the length of the hall, hoping to lessen this feeling of anxiety. The paper I held in my hands was slowly deteriorating under the sweat of my palms, the heavy black robe causing beads of perspiration to condense atop my brow and beneath my arms. Regardless of how many times I’ve been in that same hallway, holding that same piece of paper, I repeatedly become a bundle of nerves.

My fingers drummed along the steering wheel as my jeep made its way down the road. Soft country music poured out of the radio, and my head bobbed along with it. I could see my parent’s car trailing behind me when I looked in the rearview mirror. My mom was sitting in the passenger seat, talking with her hands, and my dad acknowledged whatever she said. When I turned, a large lake came into view, the setting Saturday sun reflecting perfectly on the still water. Pine trees with the occasional red and yellow-leaved tree surrounded it. The crisp, fall wind rustled some branches, causing some leaves to flutter to the ground.

There he was, walking into my fourth period class with a smirk on his face, and an outfit that screamed that he was cowboy. I, for one was not the type of girl to fall head over heels for a guy, but something about him stood out from the rest of the male population of the school. He seemed like the respectable type one could take home to their parents without them disapproving. His looks took hold of me and held me as if the image of his visage could never be erased from my mind. Never have I seen a more perfect person in my entire existence.

One voice flooded my head. I smile, instantly knowing who it belongs to. A storm of butterflies erupts in my stomach as my eyes flutter open. The bitter cold forces me to take in my surroundings. Grayson smiles back at me, and the world begins to spin all around me.

I looked out onto what was left of the landscape before me one last time. I used to call this place home but it no longer resembles the one I used to know. “It’s funny how things can go from bad to worse in such a short amount of time” I thought to myself. What once used to be a beautiful blue sky full of puffy clouds shaped like anything that could be imagined was now grey and lifeless. The clouds are no longer white and puffy but dark and menacing. They are racing towards us with the impending storm. The buildings we are leaving behind are still tall and immaculate compared to the brown wasteland around them. There was no longer green in sight except for the vehicles and billboards.

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.

This painting portrays Kahlo's two different personalities: traditional and modern Kahlo. The two are holding hands and are both sitting next to one another. The traditional

    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.

The alarm goes off at six in the morning. With the whole world still asleep, I get up and put on my basketball gear. My eyes hardly open and my muscles refuse to get out of the warmly made bed. My dad comes down with a rather keen smile plastered all over his face. He asks if I’m ready to go. I reply with a simple nod of my head. The feeling of the cold water from the sink suspends the feeling of collapsing muscles. But the day is long from over.

The cloth on my face is very heavy and very thick. It reminds me of the wool on my mom’s coat. This makes me think about how I got here and about how much I wish I could leave. But I can’t, I’m stuck until someone comes to rescue me. The cloth itches my nose, but I can’t scratch it. Those were the rules and if I disobey then who knows what will happen to me. The air in here is stiff and uncomfortable. It smells stale like my grandmother 's house. The wood underneath my legs is smooth and cold. The cold takes over my body and I shiver never knowing when I will stop. The muffled voices in the room next to this one slowly grow louder as I try to understand their words. I lean my head back on the wall and realize I have no idea what time it is. How long have I been in this room? 5 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour? It dawns on me that the voices in the other room have stopped. Is he coming for me?