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Descriptive Essay On The Eye Of The Storm

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The Eye of The Storm

It had been a stormy summer, but no one could even imagine that it would be this bad. Living in Port Douglas, Australia we were used to rain, hurricane rain. When I walked home on the boardwalk that day, everything was normal. Just like every other Friday, I did my homework, turned on the news for my eight-year old brother (he found it to be entertaining), and Skyped with Lilyana.
I was finishing my project on the reef when I heard the familiar sound of a hurricane warning come over the sound system. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing!” shouted Davey. His mouth was full of chocolate, so it was hard to understand. My brother was a snob. The sound of a screeching raccoon still lingered in the house.
On Saturday morning I met Lilyana on the beach. “Hey Samoa,” cried Lily from the edge of the water, “where have you been?” I thought she had the weirdest accent, she did just move here from America.
“At the bakery. I got us some mint slices.”
“Thank you, thank you!” she cried. Mint slices were her favorite. She always tells me that they remind her of girl scout cookies, thin mints she calls them. The air had an electric quality, as if a storm was coming.
“Hey, Lily do you want to wait out the hurricane on Wednesday at my place? I know your folks are visiting the Outback, and it’s your first ever.”
“Sure, thanks you can teach me what to do since I grew up inland,” she said timidly. I could tell she was scared. The storm was only a category two. We

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