Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

I am instantly met with unbearable pain in my head as I awake. I feel as if I am having an ongoing brain freeze and… wait no, that’s is not the right metaphor to use, it makes it sound like it’s a lot less painful than it really is. Rather, I feel like I have just been hit by a train going 200 miles faster than normal. I don’t understand why, but I’m so exhausted, as if I haven’t slept in days.

Bill Bowerman once said, "The real purpose of running isn 't to win a race, it 's to test the limits of the human heart." That was the quote that was running through my mind as I kept in pace with my best friend Tyler, the sounds of our jogging almost rhythmic. The cool afternoon air cleared my busy mind, and as we rounded the corner of the park 's running trail, out stopping place near the duck pond came to view. Beside me, I heard a sharp intake of breath come from Tyler, signaling that he too had seen the pond. Without a second thought, we both sprinted towards it. The path blurred below me as I felt a surge of adrenaline. I willed my muscles to push harder and welcomed the burning sensation that coursed through my body. My heart pounded to the steady thumps of our footsteps hitting the cold rocky ground. I felt the beads of sweat running down my forehead and the nape of my neck making my hair to cling to it. As I was reaching the end, a new burst of energy erupted in me, throwing over the finish line. I hunched over trying to catch my breath as I held onto a bench that faced the pond. My throat burned as I laughed at the sight of him cursing and kicking the dirt. I reached into the pockets of my shorts and tossed him a set of keys to which he caught flawlessly. Without saying a word, he turned and began on his journey back. I gathered what little energy remained in my body and forced myself to sit down knowing it would take him some time to reach the parking lot.

awn approached. Young Queen Audra referred to this time as the quiet hours, the time of day when all fell silent and most people remained locked away in restorative sleep and pleasant dreams.

As you kneel down on the hard wood floor in cabin 12, the smell of 4-day-old, moldy tube socks that have been soaked in lake water sneak into your nose. They were balled up under one of the beds, and left to ferment in the muggy summer heat. As a cabin keeper at Merritt Reservoir, you will have many bizarre encounters in the short three-month summer break that you spend there. You need a variety of supplies to clean different types of cabins, and they can be classified as the busy work cabins, party cabins, mystery cabins, and the outhouses. The supplies range from typical cleaning utensils such as rags and window cleaner, extra toilet paper and towels, Febreze, and rubber gloves for sticky situations. However, also be sure to grab mousetraps, a bible, and a long wooden rod with a hook on the end. This sounds unusual, but it will make sense soon.

I rolled out of bed and landed on the ruff discoloured carpet; I hadn 't vacuumed in months. I got up. I stretched out my ridged body. I fumbled to the door, not being bothered to switch on the lights. My tongue was dry and I needed something to quench my thirst- soda. Once I entered the hallway, I was assailed by a blinding light coming from Savannah 's, my sister 's bedroom. Curious - I made my way towards her room as my eyes adjusted to the new-found brightness.

It was a nice, toasty spring day. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze blowing through my hair. I was on my way back from Donnie Ronald’s annual Guns and BBQ, where all the local guys come and shoot guns in Donnie’s basement gun range. Walking home I started to get a little hungry, I decided to take a shortcut knowing there would be some deer at the river. I walked through the swampy area of the Big Cypress Swamps just north of the Everglades. I had my military boots on and was prepared to go through the wet muddy area, with my gun and my knife, I was prepared for alligators and snakes. As I walked along the path, there was an eerie abundance of beavers.Maybe I was just very hungry, but they all looked delicious, so I shot one and put it in a bag to take home for mama to cook for me. I guess they got mad at me for that, because they sure did retaliate. About an hour later, once I was on the way home, I was on the path and I heard a big crack. It felt a giant icepick hit me in the back and I fell in pain. A tree about four feet in diameter fell on my chest. Struggling to breathe, I tried to push it off my chest but it wouldn 't budge. As I attempted to push this massive tree off of myself, I heard what sounded like chuckling.As I turned my head to turned to the right, I saw a group of beavers, sitting and laughing. One of the beavers marched over and grabbed the bag with my dead beaver dinner.The

Swing. My overly excited mother pried the drawn curtains open, sunlight flooding in through the glass. My eyelids fluttered at the bright, beaming light streaming in through the window. I gazed out, only to be met with vast, barren land. I sighed in boredom. God, I hoped South Australia was better than this. The busload was teeming with noise, buzzing with energy. The variation of languages seemed to combine together in one sound of gibberish, the cacophonous chattering of excited tourists made my head throb. The smell of nauseating, cheesy potato chips combined with the gritty smell of exhaust fumes laced the air. I closed my eyes, the warmth of the sun engulfing me in its kind embrace. As I slowly fell into a deep sleep, I thought about my adventures to come. School was out, and I was free, and I couldn’t wait to get away from it all.

It was a chilly afternoon in Santa Rosa, the branches of trees--stripped of their leaves--hovered over the ground like bonyF wooden fingers while the cool wind drifted and moaned. I sat in my parents room watching my favorite Mexican telenovela, with my little sister, who has always been close and clingy to me. My father entered into the room and requested me to pause the television.

I walked into the house and dropped my book bag on the floor. It made a loud thud against the wood floors. I stood for a moment before taking off my jacket. If Locke had been home, he would have come running and asked what that sound was. Instead, the house was silent. I removed my jacket and hung it up, letting out a sigh. Feeling at ease, I walked into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich.

"Dreamy" I thought. Standing on the corner is a young guy with a smile. I see him here almost every day, so I linger for a while. He tells me his name, and I tell him mine. ' 'I 'm Ester, what 's your name? I enquired. ' 'My names David ' '.,He replied. We end up talking for a while and I asked him if he had ever left this city. He tells me of all these stories of the places where he 's been, the distant lakes and mountains, and in valleys oh so green. I can see it in his eyes, he really has been there, travelled in those distant lands, seen sights beyond compare. I am so honoured just to get to know him, and hear him tell his tales. He makes me laugh and smile, stuff I have never been able to do. I want to go and see the world through

You can do that?! Haha, no not right now. You done so much already, let me do something for you for a change. I got Seti to make his people make a plaque for you. I don’t know how well it will work though since lately all of Seti’s plans has

Your name is Pacifica Northwest and you are an eight year old, vivacious, wealthy blonde living in the peaceful town that was Gravity Falls, Oregon. It was small, and your mansion was probably one of the biggest buildings in town, owned by none other than Patricia and Richard Northwest.

I grabbed my skateboard that an old friend had given to me and opened up my window slipping out of it before closing it behind me placing a piece of cardboard over it in hopes that no one would see it and try to break in which has happened many times before.

I was in the car waiting for my mom to drop me off at practice so I can be ready for the game tomorrow. I was there I got out of the car and said by to my mom

“Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can. Please, remain calm.” The police officer ordered, pushing me back onto the hot, dry cracked desert floor. I struggled against the officer’s force, sending pleas and cries into the empty valley, echoing. And one after another, more police officers swarmed me like moths to a light, tackling me, restraining me against my own will.