Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

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

Choking back the hot burning tears her skinny legs splayed on the cool bathroom tile. Black streams coating her soft innocent cheeks, raking her bony fingers through the tangled knots in her black curled hair. Her pale skin scarred with the red marks from his hands, forever touching her once pure skin. Her thoughts bubbling up in bursts of fiery anger, words spewing from her sweet pink lips. Memories flooding her senses, flashbacks clouding her judgment. His words forever branded into her mind, his threats chaining her to the bathroom floor. Hidden, her internal suffering hidden from the world. His words, clothed her pain like a muzzle. Silencing her cries for help. Her malady hidden behind her long hair and quiet demeanor. His choice, her consequence.

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...

Rainbow Dash glanced down at her saddlebag, letting a monotonous sigh as she looked over the bunch of rolled up maps poking out from the sack. With a look of profound determination, she lifted her hoof and knocked on the door.

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.

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

I wake. Cold. Alone. Confused. I am surrounded with a lot of nothing. Harshness is all around me. I can feel tears that are now dried to my face. I am not sure why I was crying, but I know that something is not right. I don’t know where I am, but my best assumption would be jail. By the looks of it, I’m a prisoner. My arms crossed over my chest like a mummy would be. They are secured down with rigidity leather belts. I can’t take a deep breath without being restricted by the belts that hold me down. My legs are cramping and all I want to do is stretch them out, but the belts restrict any movements.

There are times when people come across an object that holds a sentimental value and want to keep it close to their heart or in other instances, store it somewhere safe. Though my possession isn 't exactly an object you can hold or put away for safekeeping, but rather a place that allows family and friends to gather and dwell upon its most glorious days. A place everyone is perpetually invited and accepted for who they are. This home, I gratefully inherited from my grandparents, has become a shelter for those those in need, serves as a financial asset, and offers fond memories.

* I decided to rewrite this story, but it is mostly me fixing it up here and there. I went back to read it all over again and it really needs some work. I know I am still not the best writer but I will the best I can.

You can do that?! Haha, no not right now. You done so much already, let me do something for you for a change. I got Seti to make his people make a plaque for you. I don’t know how well it will work though since lately all of Seti’s plans has

There’s something I need to say and what follows may not be something that you’d expect, it won’t be heartening or uplifting. If you remember today, I told you about going somewhere I wanted to go to… I’m not sure if you believed and accepted what I now confess as untrue; it is partly. I needed to pull away emotionally… from you.

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.

It was a crisp morning in the first week of June, 2014. With her step-mom and father, Oriana and I got into the car at four o’clock in the morning and set out for the Eppley Airfield in Nebraska. The lengthy drive was masked by exotic dreams of Europe as Oriana and I slept soundly in the backseat of their champagne Cadillac. Before we knew it, the sun was creeping up from behind the scenery, eloquently painting the sky with vibrant tones of red, orange, and purple.

“Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can. Please, remain calm.” The police officer ordered, pushing me back onto the hot, dry cracked desert floor. I struggled against the officer’s force, sending pleas and cries into the empty valley, echoing. And one after another, more police officers swarmed me like moths to a light, tackling me, restraining me against my own will.

My grandpa parked the car outside his home after a 12-hour drive from the Chennai International Airport to pick me up from my journey halfway across the world. The front house door swung open to reveal my grandmother who was waiting for us. We warmly greeted each other, and I took my suitcase inside. My grandparents went to the second floor of their house to unlock a room for my stay. As I waited in the living room, my eyes caught a flicker of movement inside the kitchen. I cautiously stood up and slowly snuck up the hallway. I imagined an infinite number of possibilities of who might be in the house. Who could it be? A thief? I peeked around the corner of the kitchen to find the refrigerator door open with a long furry tail flailing outside of it. As I craned my neck to look further, I realized I was staring at a monkey helping himself to food from the refrigerator! I then noticed a couple of more monkeys foraging through my grandmother’s spice cabinets. I tried to figure out what to do, when all of a sudden, my grandpa, poised with a long wooden stick, ran past me, fiercely yelling, “AHHHHHHHHHH!” to scare away the monkeys. The monkeys, now caught red-handed, froze and stared at my grandpa for a millisecond, then bound for an open window in the kitchen with stuffed cheeks and hands filled with bouquets of food. I stood and wondered if this was what the rest of my trip would be like. Little did I know of what was to come. All I knew for sure was that my