Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

My feet, without any cloths to protect them were bloody and covered in sores from rubbing against sharp stones. Like some of the horrible bed sores one of my many brothers had gotten years ago. At least that is how I am picturing them in my mind, as couldn’t see them in this light, or lack of. My feet ached, hunger pains were beginning to rise, my head, with such intense pain and that awful, awful feeling that I was not alone. I could feel the hairs on my neck stand as the eerie buzz of silence screamed in my ear. Unconsciously my slow pacing of the perimeter broke into a full speed run.

I suffered a lot , physically I was beaten till I had broken bones and

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

My clammy palms clasped the wooden arm of a plush, pink chair. The crisp air of the empty hall sent chills up my spine. Beaming lights engulfed the room. My heart felt dense. I could see my chest compress and decompress with every erratic beat and arrhythmic dance. Nerves jolted through my body. My mother squeezed my skeletal hand as she sat

I picked up and examined the short sleeve black dress she had picked out for me. It was probably the best choice. The dress was longer than most I owned, hitting a couple of inches above the knee. I let out a deep breath, I didn't realize I was holding. I put it on quickly, deciding it was fine and not sure I would have the energy to find a different one even if it wasn't. I turned my head sideways and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Walking over, I took in my reflection fully. I was a mess. The bags under my hazel eyes resembled Luke's although my eyes were also swollen from crying. My hair looked like a bird's nest and I just looked pale. After a few minutes, I gave up trying to comb out my hair and simply tied it into a low pony tail. There was no point in applying makeup that would just be washed off, so decided I was as ready as I would ever be. My feet nestled inside my black flats as I walked out my room and down the

My legs were like liquid, unable to move. So, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head but all I could think of is of him. The way his voice rang into the air, "I'm coming", how it pierced it and turned it to ice. Freezing oceans and slipping it under my skin.

It was raining. I slowly strolled through the dark, dingy streets on my own. My clothes clung to my skin as the water soaked completely through leaving my limbs numb. Every so often a drop of rain would trickle down the back on my neck making my whole body tremble. The streets were completely deserted. It felt like I had been walking for ages, the cold had completely taken over my body to the point where I could not remember at time when I was warm. I had been walking around for hours, gathering my thoughts. I liked being alone. I liked the rain. The rhythmic sound of the rain bouncing off the pavement relaxed my body and allowed me to connect with myself. I spotted at a park across the road. I walked over, sat on the bench and tensed my

A philosopher named Confucius founded Confucianism in China 2,500 years ago. Confucianism is a system of ethical behavior and social responsibility that became the great traditions of the East.1 It played an important role in the evolution in Chinese culture over the centuries. It has influenced near-by countries and had made a mark in the history of religion. There are today over six million people who call themselves Confucianists. Most Confucianists live in East Asia where Confucianism is thought to be born. For over two thousand years, Confucianism has been the dominant philosophical system of Chinese government, which has still a great hold on their people. Because Chinese culture has spread to the counties of

My bed frame shook in the wind as if it were a leaf on a windy day. I roll out of bed, groaning as the coldness of the tile seeps into my warm feet interrupting my serene state of mind. “It’s absolutely freezing in here,” I stated to no one in particular while running my fingers through my thick black hair. With urgency, I rushed down the stairs of our home, causing loud thumps to echo throughout the house.

Seeking Santa a spot near the radiator, behind the chair,my hiding place each Christmas Eve,in my dreams is always there.with twinkling lights reflecting off the icicles,so many, the star that shone so bright ontop, the gifts beneath, aplenty.I 'd sit there waiting, eager to see, the jollyold elf who seemed to know me, no movewould I make, not a peep nor a soundin case Santa came and I would be found.quiet and warm and tucked in tight, I 'dwait there alone in the dark on that night,sure I would see him, and he 'd not see me,but not once in my life was that ever to be.For I 'd just blink my eyes and open to see theChristmas sunrise was waiting for me.the cookies all eaten, the milk gone as well,like my hopes of a story that I 'd never tell,of the time I saw Santa, saw him comewatched him go, and the secret ofChristmas that I finally know...

I grab the tiny green bowl in front of Autumn and place it in the stainless steel sink. I swipe my hand under the faucet and clear water comes pouring out. The remains of the now cold mac’n’cheese soaks up the water and swirls down the drain. I look over my shoulder to my sweet Autumn, who is still sitting in the chair with her tiny arms and filthy fingers draped on the counter.

One afternoon, I came home, got myself a snack and went to my room. As I entered my room, I noticed Paolo’s bedroom blinds were open. In all the years that have passed by, not once had I ever noticed his blinds open, so in curiosity, I looked in. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of my room, I caught glimpses of movements in the shadows on his bed, until it hit me that he was sliding his hand up and down his cock. He was really taking his time, absorbed in his self-pleasure.

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.

Later that night, I was behind the wheel of my G-Wagon with Melissa in the passenger seat. She didn’t feel like driving since she was on the road all day and I understood so I didn’t mind when she asked me to. I had been tight-lipped. She kept eyeballing me as if she detected that something was bothering me but I just kept singing to my India Arie as if I was carefree.

Thud. Slamming my head on the table I aimed yet another piece of crumpled paper towards the bin. Naturally, it misses, adding to the pile of miscellaneous paper waste. A pained sigh escaped my lips as I resigned myself to picking up my pen. Tapping some unknown rhythm on the desk, I tried to make sense of my thoughts. The bite marks on my pen lid pressed hard groves into my tired fingers, a simple reminder of reality. I needed some sort of inspiration. Another drawn out sigh as I decided that I couldn’t bare the table’s mahogany damnation any longer. My chair screeched along the hardwood floor and I clicked my pen to cast it away. A wistful glace to the window told me that the moon was yet to rear its head. It was still safe to go out.