Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

His palm imprinted through layers of my skirt and lace panties onto my arse cheek.

Santa Clause leaned his head against the sled, letting out a long sigh. It had been a tough evening so far. The northern hemisphere was down, but he still had one more hemisphere to go, and he had no idea what might be in store for him there. Santa’s thoughts ran to-and-fro from what if I never reach all the kids on time or what if the kids begin to lose faith in me? So, he quickly picked up his reins and gave them a slap, “whoop, whoop,” he called out to his reindeers, but exhaustion was creeping in. He noticed the fluffy clouds taking the forms of little children and candy canes, train sets, and teddy bears. His eyelids grew too heavy to keep them open, and his head dropped to one side. Santa fell into a deep slumber…

I sat in our freezing basement. Goosebumps layered my body and I began to shake. A light lit up the dark room and I listened to the footsteps walking down the steep stairs.

“I was thinking we could go out to The Grand tonight for dinner then stay at the boat,” Jamison suggested over the phone.

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.

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.

“Great. So excited.” I speak my words slowly to emphasize sarcasm. My mom gives me her signature “don’t-give-me-that-attitude-or-there-will-be-consequences” look, one that I have received too many times during our lengthy trip from the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris.

Often when I think of canyons I think of time being etched into a stone creating deep, intricate gorges. The first time I encountered a picture taken from the inside a canyon, it made me think back to the imagery I would use to describe my own life. A ravine with so many edges and turns that in pieces do not make sense but, when put together create this sort of channel running through the rock. I noticed that without the sun 's rays shining down, the canyon becomes dark, hollow, and full of chaos waiting to happen. However, when the light shines in the ravine there is a rainbow effect running up the rock and all the little etchings adding more glory to the overall masterpiece.

Obediently, Blondie increased his speed and – I noticed – his pleasure. His mouth was opening soundlessly now, another sign of his enjoyment I knew so well. He was breathing heavily too. Felatina kept him rowing and rowing, to the point where I thought he was going to spray his love juice. However, the potion was working well and although he showed all the physical signs of being close to orgasm, the actual event was not happening. I smiled at Marianna as we giggled about what kind of sensation that must be for a man.

The sound of movement to my side interrupted me and I looked up, yelping in surprise when I came face to face with a stranger. In fact, this wasn’t just any stranger, this was a guy. A tall brown haired guy, to be precise, who was at the moment lazily sprawled out on the other half of the bench. His skin was beautifully bronzed and his eyes – a steely shade of blue were full of curiosity.

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.

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.

Passengers dozed peacefully in the cramped, cold, and dark cabin, eye masks on. A sudden jolt, riveting the plane, spurred only a few grumbling snorts from the unconscious travelers. The engines droned while chatty flight attendants gossiped behind a curtain.

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

I awoke from the same Nightmare that I had woken up from for the past twenty years.