Descriptive Essay On A Ghost Tree

Previously this week we discussed "The Haunted Oak" that applied to the African American people that badly tried to escape slavery. For this reflection paper, I will portray some of the personal feelings I had after I read the text and heard the song and how that had a meaningful impact on me. The people that tried to escape slavery were accused and prosecuted by being hung in a tree, which happened to many people as they felt used by the white people. The story was told by the perspective of the tree and how it felt haunted because of all the people it had killed. The white people said that the African American people had no importance in this world and should not be allowed any power what so ever. However, the prosecution did not stop with

We finally got to the so called haunted house. It was unsettling there was just something about it that none of us could put into words. Maybe we didn’t want to know why, maybe we just wanted to act as if nothing was wrong and saying nothing made that real. The house looked as if were falling apart like it would collapse at the slightest of wind. “ So I guess we should go in then” Sam almost whispered as if she didn’t want us to hear her. “ Yes, let's go in” Mary said, but the way she said it was off setting like she had no feelings. Though honestly, I don’t think any of us wanted to go in we walked up to the door and pushed.

Apart from inside of the home, the outside of the home, I define as majestic, abounding memories. Running, plenty of land to indulge the flurry of life, dream within, creation of the imagination. With my older sister, Cynthia and younger siblings, precious moments playing are never forgotten. Daring not to envision what life could have been without this open door. Outside, when the weather permitted it, a different life existed, although, it became lost in time taking several years to understand these feelings. After I learned of death, as I spoke about in, “God Answered Me”. Life changed, I became deeper in thought more aware. Strange occurrences and the scenes of life blossomed in detail, cherishing the moments in my mind immensely, I was definitely not alone. Often lying in the grass, gazing at these fluffy white clouds, wondering and dreaming, memorized by each shape changing as the wind blew it’s breath

Hello, I am Brooke Hicks, a ghost who looks after her old school. I died from a bunny attack during a science lab experiment. Long story but that is for another time. Well now I am going to tell you about something happening at this school right now.

Driving to Long Prairie, on the right side of the road, up a hill with a long, paved driveway will be a house to the left. This house is two-stories with a basement. The first time I saw it, the house had a worn out, light tan vinyl siding with faded, dark red shutters from years of Minnesota weather. At the end of the driveway was a garage that resembled the houses color. To the right of the driveway was a large stone wall that was overrun with wild grape vines. In the middle of the wall was a stairway that leads to an old, rundown playhouse. Also, there was a large, gray brick shed further away. Beyond the house are the woods, littered with pine needles from the rows of trees my grandpa planted when he moved there. The whole area is surrounded by the overpowering smell of pine, and the silence the woods carries; it brings a calming, peaceful sensation to me. As the years have gone on, the house and I have aged, grown, and changed together.

“Hey” I yelled running up to my friends. “Oh hello” my friends all said in unison. My friends consisted of mary,riley,and samantha we had all been friends for a while now and got along pretty well. “ So are you guys ready to go to the haunted house yet?” “No but I probably never will be so I guess I am” riley said a little too loudly. “Okay then let's go” mary said with enthusiasm. So we went off walking towards the haunted house. We blended in pretty well with all the children trick-or-treating because we had all dressed up even though none of us were trick-or-treating. I was wearing a costume that made me look like a demon. Sam was a ballerina, mary was a unicorn, riley was an elf but the type from lord of the rings.

The second of two back doors is white with black accents and a big window in the top half. As you push the door open you hear an array of screeches and clicks. “Don’t let the dog out!” Mother shouts before you walk out the door. Closing itself when you let go of it, the door shuts with a slam. You gently set your foot down onto the step of the small, cement, back porch and your rainboot makes a “thwip” sound. Stepping off of the cement onto decorative stones, triangular and jagged, then onto the ground, you begin to acclimate to the temperature. Each step makes the same soft thunk as the first you heard. The shadow of the overhanging roof lets go of its grip on you and your own shadow appears. You feel the warmth of the summer sun on your skin, its rays kissing your rosy red cheeks.

It was a cool October day, the small town of St. Marie, Wisconsin was getting ready for

"This is something that brings out the kid in me," Asmussen, 52, said Friday of All Hallows Eve, Naper Settlement's annual haunted house extravaganza that's been attracting thousands of visitors for the last 13 years.

The house is alive, you understand as you cross the doorstep. You could hear its heart beating, the veins hiding in the walls. You open a door with a familiar purple tint, discovering nothing less than a dark room with a strongly clean smell. Your finger lightly touches the light switch on your left, exactly where you knew it would be. The reflection of the moving water under the fluorescent lamp made the room light up in an eerie

Ruby slipped into her red shoes. Her dress was blood red and was embellished with rubies, complementing the shoes. Her pale skin was dusted with red glowing dust and her lips were the color of apples, the hue little lighter than the dress. Her eyes were pink, with a dark rim around the edges. She felt as if she couldn’t breath, although she could.

I got out to look around, leaving my sleeping friends in the car. I only could see as far as the headlights lit up the forest. In the far distance I could see a very faint lights flickering. I walked towards them hoping there would be people who might have gas or be able to help us. I soon could see it was a house. A tall, two story, abandoned looking house. As I got closer, the more scared I became. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up and got butterflies in my stomach. I didn't know why this was happening but I knew we needed help so I kept walking towards the house, like it was calling me.

It was only a couple of nights before October 31,2017 Halloween. There was a haunted house that Xavier was helping set up. He loved Halloween because of all the candy. Xavier is 17 years old. Xavier was buying more stuff to put into the haunted house. He went to the haunted house to set up. It was finally the night October 31,2017. Xavier was on his way to the haunted house.

I don’t know why I agreed to go to a haunted house. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea for my first haunted house to be the one given the title of world’s longest haunted house by Guinness World Records. I’m a coward, I get scared very easily but yet I agreed to go. Little did I know what was to come. As soon as the clock hits seven o'clock  my dad and I go pick up my cousin Sara so we can head to my doom, Dragon’s House of Horror. As Sara gets in the car and fastens her seatbelt my dad asks, “Are you guys ready for the haunted house?!” my cousin responds, “Yeah” not much enthusiasm shown in her face of stone unlike mine which is ridden with fear. I respond with a squeaky voice, “Of course, I was born ready.” Both of them laugh, my face gives my true emotions away. I’m a mouse on an open field being circled by hawks, I feel vulnerable. There isn’t much talking as we head to the haunted house as we all try to convince ourselves that nothing bad will happen, and that we made a good decision. The thoughts going through my head are, “it’ll be a good experience to tell later”, “it’ll be fine, how bad can it be?”, “You’re going to be alright no need to back out now”. I don’t know what my cousin and dad were thinking but I’d like to think it was similar to what I was thinking. By the time we get to expo gate number eight the sun has already said goodbye and the moon has risen. Everything about the place already seems spooky, the entrance is dimly lit and the only words

Throughout history there have been places mankind has known and named, marking the cities, rivers, and roads of our world to maps that they might be remembered and revisited. The forest surrounding my home changes throughout the year, cycling in an endless pattern. Some places die in the winter, sleeping softly under blankets of white diamond powder, till spring comes to revive them. Other places fall to summer, withering under unforgiving sunlight or being smothered in shadows beneath the forest’s canopy. The place I tell of now does neither, instead it lies in a perpetual state of in-between, flourishing and fallow, flowers growing beneath felled logs. It is a place between places, and has no name.