Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

head to the hotel we was staying at. The town was nice and we saw some beautiful things, we

“The driver thought you might need a place to sleep tonight, so he wants you to spend the night at the Hilton, over in Greentown.”

It started to rain as we walked to the steakhouse across the road. The steakhouse appeared almost empty so I jokingly asked the hostess, “Do we need reservations?”

Bahauddin grabbed for a place to rest his hand while he lifted his feet, climbing through the shaft, out of the caverns. Every crack of stone was filled with overgrown moss, As he rose, he could see the sky was just before nightfall. The only sound around was the howl of the wind, and the keys clanging against each other like a windchime during a breezy spring afternoon. Ascending up the shaft, he was cautiously concentrating for each and every placement of his hands and feet, careful not to slip. Bahauddin’s hand grasped the top of the shaft. The sky was painted with brush strokes of blood orange, reflecting a glare off the keys. Outside, it had looked like a warzone. No buildings fully structured, not a person in sight, just crumbs

“Well of course, we are going out to eat,” I couldn’t bare to tell Grayson we won’t get to eat for that long so I wanted him to have a nice meal.

He handed me a menu and advised that a waiter would be with me soon.

His name was Cwedolscead. He had not chosen the name and he was not aware of who it might have been who gave him the name. But he cursed them to the rankest, most festering depths of hell, which no doubt, was where they resided anyway. The name was not assigned at his birth, when the first haze of his dark nascent energy belched forth from the blackest hearts of humanity, but came later, the word spewing unbidden from the nadir of damnation, floating on the stench of brimstone to swaddle itself around him, as his disparate strands coalesced into a conscious, if formless being.

‘- it was we who did the dispossessing, took traditional lands and destroyed traditional ways of life-’

I shut my suitcase and wriggled it off of my bed, giving my room one last sweep before we left for the month. I spun around in anxiety ready for the 6 hour travel to what I had been waiting for all summer. The airport was crowded and I was jostled by the crowd like a fish in the current. I finally found my parents and brother and we handed the lady our tickets before boarding the plane. We found seats next to each other and sat down in comfortable silence. I saw a movie about to start and put on my headphones. Soon I was lulled to sleep by the gentle voices of the fictional, soft-spoken characters. Just before I slipped into the darkness of sleep I wondered if Padfoot was comfortable in the pet section. When I woke up I was being shaken by my mother, who was pointing at James while talking on the phone. I grabbed James and both of our bags, while my parents grabbed theirs. We got off the plane and outside. We called a taxi to pick us up and went to the car dealership. By this time James had woken up and was playing on my phone. They finally left and got into a purple mustang with green stripes on the front. I gently took my phone back and checked the time. It was four thirty. I knew that Disney World wasn’t far and rolled my window down before giving back my phone and taking a nap.

Calliope sat straight up in a cold sweat her shoulder length hair cling to her head, she panted eyes wide in panic. Her hands clasped over her mouth stifling a scream. Calming down from her momentary hysteria and with a deep breath she examine her surrounding pristine blue above her, deep green grass a long with some wild flowers swayed around her. Standing up on wobbly legs she tried to remember where she was but, her mind drawing a blank on anything beyond her name. Walking down a small slope she saw clear body of water.

Most of the time August in Maine is hot, sticky hot. The kind of hot where as much as you don’t want to you break down and turn the air conditioning on. This mid-August day is the exception. The day before, it rained just enough to break the heat but not enough to make it humid and unbearable. The result is a cool breeze of morning air that comes in through my window and dances delicately with the lace curtains and soft golden rays of the waking sun just beginning to fill my room.

Scuffling just out of sight, the creature sniffed the air and reared it 's head. It caught her scent. It 's leathery black skin made it easier to disappear into the shadows of the forest they were in. The people it was hunting had no such talent.

Colors are flashing. Faint sounds fill the air. Everything’s a blur, like it’s being swept up by the wind. I try to find my footing and stand up, but I just fall back down again. I try to grasp onto my last memories, searching for answers. The only memory I find is my name. Shailene Fonder.

I was waddling around in my playpen like any happy four-year-old would. Picking up and grabbing random toys and hurling them as hard my my chubby arm could. I looked at my brother with the biggest grin I could muster, as we heard my mother’s off-pitch voice, singing our favorite Disney songs to us, currently one from Sleeping Beauty, much to my brother’s dismay. It was the best day I can remember. My mother finished up with the song, and I thought it was the best thing I had ever heard. I didn’t know at the time that my mother is actually tone-deaf.

The terminal became backed with hundreds upon hundreds of ponies, each trotting towards their flight or to family members they hadn’t seen in weeks. The sight of loved ones leaving out the door brought a smile to my face as I turned my attention back to the list of flight numbers.