Descriptive Essay On The Beauty Of A House

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 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

Running into the woods Sarah’s eyes fell on familiar sights. Trees she had climbed as a little girl, old trails her father had made, the old stream she loved to sit by and read poetry. Sweet, delicate memories flowed into her mind like warm, caressing fingers attached from loving angels, as Todd pulled her deeper into the woods. The world outside the community is exciting…but this is my home,” Sarah thought as Todd hurried slowed down to help her step over a fallen log

Her long brown hair tied back in tight bun and brown dirty dress and matching wool jumper that is two sizes too big. She heads down towards the running creek the bank starting to flatten. Dead trees creating hurdles and the thrones pricing her numb feet. The slug becomes deeper as she get closer to the water. Animals in the night scratching and yelling, light hitting her left shoulder… ‘RUN’. The only way out is the creek and he is getting closer the water reaching her lower back sending shivers up her spine. Wading through the water she sees it. The bag and the world has gone dark again silent and serine she scrambles up the other side of the bank pulling the bag with her. A big oak fallen about 15 Meters away she knows by the unsettling silence he’s not far away. Pulling the bag on her damp back she crawls to the hollow tree and lays down behind it. She holds her breath for what feels like fifteen minutes not moving a single tired muscle in her body. After about half an hour more of twilight and damp forest floor she realises he’s given up. Not for good but defiantly for

“The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a loud long wail of disappointment and misery gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The street light flickering opposite shone on a quiet deserted road.”

I run through the darkness, the rustling of leaves beneath my shoes, and the whispers of my friends penetrating the silence, that hangs around us like a fog. Above us, the moon gleams like a jewel, a single, watchful eye peering down on us, from the infinite black. We have been running for a while, inexorably, through the brambles, as nimble as cats. We reach the fence. Cold, and intimidating, it looms above us. Slowly, one by one, we begin the treacherous descent, down the muddy slope, holding the fence; our fingers grasp the cold, metal wires, desperately trying not to fall. Our eyes are filled with terror at the sight before us, as we reach the bottom… A tiny plank stretches across the river; a churning, raging torrent of water.

She slowly turned around and began limping back up the mountainous terrain. I couldn’t bear to watch this kind old lady begin a dangerous journey without someone or something accompanying her. My instinct was to help her, I searched for the nearest stick that was around her waist height. I found a branch that was the perfect size for her and quickly followed the trail of semi-crunchy squashed leaves that she had left behind. I hopped around her, stopping her in the middle of her pathway and gave her the stick.

Jogging back up the drive, I drew near to the fence gate. With one swift movement, I unlatched the lock and opened the door. The gate creaked and my body froze. Maybe I should go to the red book, the thought trickled into my mind. See if it's still there, or better yet, dispose of it in the trash. For five seconds, I remained motionless then impulsively I rounded the fence and strode down the length of the wooden wall. The trees from the forest pressed near me, casting dark shadows, and for a second, it felt as if they were glaring down from their lofty height. A cool ominous breeze push passed me and my eyes scan wildly when suddenly I stopped. At the place where the red book was was a pile of orange leaves. Bending down, I began rustling my fingers through the foliage, but to my surprise, instead of a book...there was an old worn sweater? It wasn't possible, a red sweater? I had seen the book, or at least, I thought I had. A shiver ran through me. It was happening

I trace my friend’s steps in the lanky grass, I’m wearing wear long pants even though the Sun is buffeting me; I need the fabric to shield my legs from the arrowhead-thorns aiming towards me in the narrow, man-made path. We dodge a tree branch hanging 4 feet from the ground, and finally, we enter a place only few people know about due to it’s magnificent hiding skills. My friend goes her own way while I absorb this new scene, I look at the stream laying a foot in front of me, glistening with sunlight like a bedazzled dress of a dancer, I spin my head towards the peaceful wind, I see a strip of wood connecting

We had been walking together for a while now, for the forest had become dim and haunting; something about the moonlight made the trees appear taller and more threatening, as if a step on the wrong path would send sharp branches down unto some poor soul. The roots on the ground were alive, twisting and bending like snakes waiting for you to stop paying attention so they could pull you down into the Earth. The sounds of rustling leaves were horrific monsters who lusted after your flesh; the cold breeze came from the shadows to steal your warmth and blanket you in goosebumps. I hoped it would be this way. The moonlight perfectly illuminated Maria’s face, and on it I could easily read fear and apprehension; she could sense danger, just like all

Violently my long black hair swished back and forth as I carried my slender frame from branch to branch, closer to the dusky sky. Temporarily I rested my bare feet on the cool rough bark of the white oak tree. Large curving branches intertwined and carved entrancing patterns in the air. Shells of discarded acorns were scattered across the branches. The hardy rough texture of the bark felt comforting on my calloused feet, and just the smallest of movement in the cool wind did the tree make.

Placing the journal on her lap, she untied the knotted hemp and opened the cover. Bound to the first page was a black-and-white photo of a two story clapboard cottage. The weather-beaten house sat on stilts and showed what lay beneath it. On one side of the house a large oak tree stood. The Spanish moss hanging from its branches appeared as long-forgotten

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.

One place that I see every day but don’t put much attention to is my house. The house that I live in is near by a park and a gas station. My house is small and cozy is made of steel frames, the anterior part of the house has a beige and pink color that combine a beautiful shade. The inside of my house has many portraits of family members and drawings. I have a total of two bathrooms and four rooms a kitchen and two living rooms. We have a living room that’s used for grown-ups and the other one is used for the children. The kitchen table and chairs are made of wood, in the ceiling there is big chandelier. The walls of my house are painted in different colors that are green, beige and pink. I like that every room has its own different color, it’s not boring it brings life and shade.

During 5th grade year of 2016, almost once every week my parents would go and look for a house. I would remind them everyday that the house we have is great and there is no need to find another. In that house I have lived there at least eight years, which is most of my life so far. Till this day it has always been my favorite house, and the perfect house. I have made so many memories there it is impossible to count. I loved it.