Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

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.

That decision sticks to me still to this day. It was the day I walked away from my ugly past. I used to be a gangster, a real bad dude. I owned the coolest cars, I had the hottest girls, and I was rolling in the dough. But I had to get out of that lifestyle. My homie, Jarron, went to prison for life because of that day. I went to prison for two years. It was time to change.

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

"Alright, alright. I 'm up now," I quietly say to my annoying alarm clock as I turn it off. My charm bracelet is on the beside table along with the clock, the zodiac charms jingle slightly as I slip it onto my wrist . I make my way over to the small dresser in my room and pick out my outfit for the day. The usual sweatshirt and jeans will do for today, I decide to myself.

Upon arriving at a two- story house located in a small suburb in the middle of the scorching Arizona desert. You can see one big window from the outside of the house, similar to the size of a fifty-inch TV. Little do you know that behind those windows lies a room filled with peace, security, and warmth. Therefore, your curiosity peaks and decides to explore the enchanting room. As you enter the house you see a stair case to your left about ten steps from the main door. After you make the journey through all of the sixteen steps, you see a room to your right that captivates your attention. You take nine steps to the right, which leads you inside an illuminated room covered in fluffy almond wash carpet. You encounter many items that catch your attention.

“Do you remember the red heel you always wanted to wear when you were younger,” my cousin asks. I giggle quietly as my forms a smile. I try to remember, but the memories do not come to me. I look up at her and just say yes, but why is it that I do not recall those shoes? I look down at my feet and close my eyes. I can see myself at the age of two running around in a pearly dress. I begin to scan myself in the dress, I look down, but still cannot see the shoes. I reopen my eyes and I just sigh. Have I forgotten where I came from, or is it just my mind playing tricks on me?

“No Jamie, I told you before and I will tell you again, we are not going swimming in the ocean. It’s too dangerous with all of the shark spottings from only a mile away from shore.”

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.

“Just forget it,” I say, “but hurry up and get dressed. I need to get to school.”

I used to be normal. I used to have friends and people who cared about me. I used to think I was safe in my mother’s arms. That I could grow up to be the person everyone would admire. But those days are gone. Not a single soul in the world could give a damn about me. Every day I am tormented and abused, and I take it all in because I deserve it. Every day I think of running away, leaving my wretched soul behind. Every day I want to kill myself, but I can never bring myself to. Every day I am an outcast to society, an abomination. Every day that goes by, I am still gay. And I can’t change who I am.

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

The cool dampness from the morning dew caused my feet to itch. This particular morning was chilly and damp. I love to go to yard sales with my mom, but at 6:00 am. Really? “Oh my goodness, look at this,” said my mom. She had located a goat. Yes a goat. Not the live, breathing kind, but the stuffed cute kind. He wore a small black and white striped outfit and the tiniest red bandana. His wire rimmed spectacles set off huge eyes which were topped off by large curling horns. All in all he was about 8 inches tall. He held a small sign that said “Old Goat” in black writing.

"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

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.

Everyone I met melted in the palm of my hand. They all loved me. Now, I strike fear into the hearts of all men. It all started when I was nine, on a hot, humid afternoon. All because of innocent, little Elizabeth.