Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

Isaac’s body heated from the embarrassment. “I kind of forgot to. What were you trying to tell me?”

“I don't know anything about where I’m at, who you are, where you’re taking me, where my family is, or if they’re okay,” I said shyly.

The man laughed, “Well, I see you’re always so curious…” The man’s lips moved again to say something.

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

He dropped his chin on the table and mumble something underneath his breath before letting out a hefty sigh. “I’ll let you get this and one more date for my boy body comments. After that I’m out of the clear.

I can hear the White Rabbit 's watch tocking and ticking yet I don 't see him. He is late again. I might just fire him or water him, however, that phrase goes. I let my devious grin emerge from the dust to see him in the dark dry woods, he doesn 't see me but I see him in his half ironed quarter buttoned shirt. I am not a bad kitty, I simply don’t play nice with the kittens.

“Oh?” He asked curiously. “I thought some of her abrasiveness had worn on. I suppose it was wrong. Although,” he paused for a moment, pushing off the railing to stand in front of me.

"I don’t think you should ask questions, young lady," she snapped back harshly, then chuckled to play it off like she was joking.

“I’m sorry. Am I in some kind of family matter?” I asked feeling a little out of place.

“All right, sounds good,” I said, a smile crossing my face. After closing the drawer, I faced him. “Can I ask you something?”

“I don't know," he admitted. “I was hoping you and your friends could solve that mystery.”

“Wasn’t me.” He looked confused like he didn’t know what I was talking about. Which he probably didn’t if it wasn’t him. “Get out of my room. I’m trying to concentrate. The only reason I have my door open is so that I can hear mom if she needs something.”

"Do better than reading baby girl. How about you come with me?" I glared at her with a challenging look.

You’re walking down the sidewalk on your way home. A chilly breeze blows, and you hunch your shoulders, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. Feeling a need for spontaneity, you decide to take a different turn. After five minutes of walking you come upon a corner store. You feel an urge to go in and you don’t know why; maybe because the store looks impossible somehow, with its smudged outline and colors that are slightly less visible than the colors of the other buildings on the street, or because of the way that none of the passersby even give it a glance.

It was Halloween and, being the super mature teenager that I was, I went trick-or-treating. Going house to house and getting practically thrown at with candy just seemed entirely worth it. Considering I was 5,3, I wasn 't surprised that I could pull off being a 12-year-old for one night without calling attention to myself.