Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

I can hear the White Rabbit 's watch tocking and ticking yet I don 't see him. He is late again. I might just fire him or water him, however, that phrase goes. I let my devious grin emerge from the dust to see him in the dark dry woods, he doesn 't see me but I see him in his half ironed quarter buttoned shirt. I am not a bad kitty, I simply don’t play nice with the kittens.

“Where’s Claire?” I asked. Claire was my normal maid, she had been since I was 8. This young trembling blond definitely wasn’t her. She looked no older than 16 and seemed terrified of me. When she finally turned around her brown eyes stared at my feet. The poor girl seemed to jump when I spoke. The small freckled beauty

Sometimes I wounder what love is. Sometimes I wounder if I will ever feel the emotion, or if the emotion is a figment of peoples imaginations. Like some kind of god, you wish him to be up in heaven with his angels so badly that you see unicorns where there are meerly horses. Of coarse, who am I to judge what others think to be true, because if you want it bad enough, your mind may trick you, and who is to say that that is less real than the fact that the sky is blue or that my hair is blond? No one.

I take off my black coat and exhale relief, seeing that my lower quadrants are back to normal.

"I used to this all the time with grandma..." Mom grinned, closing her eyes as I grin back, reflecting her appearance.

He ended the kiss, but pressed his forehead to mine, as we both tried to regain some control. “I think,” I said between breaths, “you want to fuck me up against your car.”

Some people say that you are born the way that you are. Others claim that it is all reliant on how you were raised. The problem with that is my dads were the most amazing and normal people you could ever dream of. Every Saturday night, we would go to my aunts ' house to have dinner. My older brother would hang out with my cousins, but I didn 't feel like I belonged there. They would only talk about boys. For some reason, I just didn 't agree with how they think that boys are hot.

As I scan the never ending line of trailers, my grandmother’s stands out. Faded metal siding clinging to the unevenly pitched roof, grass struggling to grow under the shade of the rotting oak tree, the hot water heater rusting in the back, all speak to the age of the tin box she calls her home. I never see it as a home; to me it is a house I dread entering. The yard surrounding the trailer holds few memories, as little time is ever spent outside. On four sunken craters on her driveway, an old Ford Taurus sits, slowly seeping into the asphalt from its weight, revealing how little its owner moves.

“Loki” I called, “Come on, time for a walk.” That was all it took, when I was only halfway through the sentence my dog came charging over, almost knocking me down. I laughed. “We’ll go outside in a minute, just hold on.” I said as I attempted to put a leash on the excited husky. I’d had a long day at school, and I was ready to take a break. ’A walk outside would be pretty nice.’ I thought.

“Well then I guess you won’t have to take your driver 's test because I won’t let you drive,” he instantly snapped back into his normal sturn self. I always hated how he thought he could make snide remarks to me, but the second I tried to banter back, he would switch back into strict dad mode.

The following morning, a Portkey deposited Fleur at the iron gate protecting Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. She made her way to her apartment where a small but well-placed living room featured a large window overlooking Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch and a fireplace built into a bordering wall. A bookcase, end table, couch, and two plush chairs filled the room. To Fleur’s left, a kitchenette snuggled aside a short hallway leading to her bathroom and bedroom.

Sunday morning arrived, two weeks since their grand melee, and Mauricio thought it was appropriate to go home and see how Consuelo was doing again. Hoping he had given her enough time to cool down, there he found her watching Sunday morning news while clipping coupons. He greeted her with a simple, “Hi, Mom! How are you doing?” And, planted a big kiss on her cheek. Consuelo’s silence was his cue that she was still upset with him. Sensing she was still disconcerted he walked right in to his room and picked out clothes and packed a few other personal belongings. He returned to the living room with two large travel bags in hand.

It was another typical day in Washington as gray clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky, hiding the bright rays of the sun from view. A light shower sprinkled over Seattle and only increased as the clouds grew thicker and dense. Sixteen year old Jae Fault walked to school; Greenwood High.

The car door slammed shut as my dad sounded the horn a few times. Mom and dad were off to visit my siblings at school. It is just me and the puppy, Mimi, roaming my newly lonely house. I whipped up a cup of hot coco, grabbed some marshmallows, then ran up the stairs straight to my bed, finding the netflix screen waiting for me. Bundled up in my covers on a rather chilly and windy fall night laid my doggie and I relaxing while watching the dramatic series of “90210”. I began to sink deeper into my comfy bed beginning to doze off, until I heard a creaking sound that seemed to be coming from below my bedroom floor carpet.

It was 2:30 in The morning. And mum always used to say nothing good ever happens after two in the morning. I should have listened. Anyway, I stood on the corner of Vernon and 25th street, on a rainy night in London. When standing there, I suddenly became suspicious of my surroundings. A man figure dressed in black passed by without a word. He dropped a pale, beige journal. When I realized it had fallen, I gathered up the broken, fallen pages upon the ground. As I looked up to see where the mysterious man had gone, I found myself standing alone as I did before.