Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

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.

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.

Once I reached the bottom my lovely mother sang,” OH darling, we’re visiting your aunt today.” Then she said in disgust,”Even if her old musty house smells of wine and cheap perfume.”

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.

“Brrr.” I shivered when I stepped into the shallow water. After 30 seconds, though, I adjusted.

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.

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.

A chilled breeze caused my hair to stand up on end, so I peek over my shoulder to see the window in my bedroom door open. The blue, polka-dotted whipped around violently but I couldn 't hear the sounds of a strong wind. Huh, could have sworn I 'd closed that. . . I spring to my feet and shiver as I step across the cold floor toward my room. On my tip-toes, I pull the screen down to shut it and take a minute to stare out the window. The moon cast a dim light over the small town, illuminating only the fronts of houses and the tip of trees, abandoning all else to darkness. A light fog danced in the distance and I smiled thinking how perfect it looked on Halloween 's night. I looked down from the top floor one last time then tugged the curtains shut.

I was used to moving round, having a mother who liked to travel more than making roots was something I had gotten used to. Still, I had never gotten used to the loneliness of an empty house when she was out exploring, or the feeling of leaving behind someone who could have meant something to me.

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

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.

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.