Descriptive Essay

this water to survive, and our loved ones at home worried sick wondering if we are even still alive. Then again the view a had while doing this wasn’t all that bad. Most likely a better view than what I would have originally had at the resort we were heading to.

Awaking from my daze to peer out the large, sweeping windows of the tour bus. Speeding past me is the Normandy countryside located on France's northern coast. After driving for an hour, we appear to be slowing down. The tour guide, Gilles, speaks over the intercom in his accented English describing the medieval structures of the town we are approaching. From a distance it appears to be a tourist haunt. Honfleur is a beautiful town that is different from anywhere else in the world.

    I stood at the outskirts of San Jose, California. The night sky was showing with glittering stars, shining the cosmos. The wind as cold as ice with the howling sound of wolves in the background. It was almost pretty peaceful and quiet except for the sounds of nature. My friends and I were camping by a campfire sharing scary stories. Our parents were gone to refill gas and get more food.

I raced through the city; my heart was beating faster and faster with every stride. The air coursed through my brindle-colored coat. With me is my closest companion, my sister, Mabel. She only came along because I told her there would be birds she could chase. But the real reason I wanted to go was to explore the city in which I was born.

One hot and sunny day, Brooklyn and her mom walked to the city from their new house. While they were walking they spotted some cute stores. SInce they loved shopping they stopped and looked at all of the stores.

Texas in the summer is blistering hot. Even in the morning at 10:07 a.m., there is heat foretelling the weather for the rest of the day: hot, hot, and more hot. Thankfully, Mother Nature is not completely unsympathetic; she provides a nice breeze, but it is never constant. However, it is welcome nonetheless. So here I sit, on an uncomfortable bench in front of the local HEB on a Saturday morning. There are no grand events, it seems a typical morning for the small town of Gatesville. I chose this places because my mother had some biweekly grocery shopping to do, and I thought it was the perfect place to observe the general public.

There he was, walking into my fourth period class with a smirk on his face, and an outfit that screamed that he was cowboy. I, for one was not the type of girl to fall head over heels for a guy, but something about him stood out from the rest of the male population of the school. He seemed like the respectable type one could take home to their parents without them disapproving. His looks took hold of me and held me as if the image of his visage could never be erased from my mind. Never have I seen a more perfect person in my entire existence.

I lift myself up and as soon as my feet touch the floor my body gets the chills of a cold hard wood floor. I man up and walk over to my little “office desk” and turn of the alarm, there was only the silence of nature's music. I took a moment to listen to the music and sighed to myself, a content sigh. I look back at the clock and it now says 5:35 AM time to get ready. I walk over to my closet door and put on the outfit from the boutique I’ve officially named the outfit Courtney. I opened the door and made my way over to the hallway bathroom next to my room and curled my wavy hair while looking at myself in the mirror. I have red wavy hair and dark green eyes I also have a few freckles on my nose and cheeks. My face is kind of diamond shaped and my features are pretty decent. Not to sound conceited but I always have though I was pretty, not supermodel pretty but average pretty. Otherwise I try to be humble with everything that I do so I don't give off the wrong expression. Anyways back to getting ready I think to myself, I continue to curl my hair for a few more seconds, as soon as I finish I comb through my hair with a brush and then bam instant “insta-glam hair!” Pleased with my look I walk out and turn off the bathroom light before leaving the bathroom. As I walk past my room down the hallway I notice that I’m the only one up Courtney must still be asleep. I wouldn’t blame her it was a long day yesterday of shopping and searching for clothes. As I walk down the stairs into

I never knew what it was like to have a normal heartbeat. I was your typical girl growing up that played with Disney princesses, loved pastel pink, and pranced around the house singing nursery rhymes at dawn. I would wake up every morning with a smile on my face and tell everyone and everything how much I loved them from my parents to my mini pink Barbie sofa that I adored. The world was beautiful and lovely, until I was thirteen years old. I was walking down the crowded and filthy streets of Times Square to a lavish five star hotel that rested on the corner of 45th and Broadway. I walked past the doorman whose hair was as white as snow to the elevator to go up to the 18th floor. I stepped inside of the elevator and clicked the circular yellow button which lit up with the touch of my finger. The elevator began to slowly glide slowly upwards towards my floor. The elevator then came to a sudden halt which took me by surprise. The lights went out. It was as dark as the night of halloween when the bats camouflage in the sky and there is no light to be seen not even from the old fashioned red brick houses decorated in cotton spider webs that lined the street of a tiny wealthy neighborhood in a large city. My entire body was jostled as if I was in the middle of an earthquake and I fell slowly to the ground like the wax melting from a candle. My heart began to thud. I could feel the blood pumping throughout my entire body. The sweat was dripping down my face like I just came out

The sound of car horns honking, trains whistling, and the sudden halt of our car in reaching traffic caused me to wake abruptly. “Welcome to the Bronx” read the overhead sign; a jolt of excitement ran through my body as we were approaching the Stadium. I then realized that I was going to witness the iconic Derek Jeter complete his final season. Childhood memories were reappearing as the loud mouthed New Yorkers Hollered and polluted fumes were settling. Bronx, New York is truly a place one needs to visit. After paying for an overpriced parking spot, we began our five block hike to Yankee Stadium. The hectic sidewalks were as gum filled as my high school desks along with promoters harassing pedestrians. It seemed as though no one got along outside of Yankee Stadium, aggressive expressions overtook the streets. Whether is was the ticket sharks, homeless looking for change, or cars looking to switch lanes, the chaos was all around.

Sitting on the soft sand, I look out over the ocean. The deep indigo blue waters roll onto the beach in sets of white top waves, making a soothing sound as they crash against the shore. I sit there, listening to the the sounds of the ocean, the slight breeze brushes my skin and the salty air fill my lungs. I feel a sense of calmness, a feeling I haven’t felt in years.

There is one place that overrules all the others. Only three hours away in Elk County lies my relaxing escape quarter. When I step foot into the old fashioned cabin, all of my troubles go away. I love that it resembles a completely different world. The whirling of the wind, the brightness of the stars, and the fragrance of the fresh air are just a few of my favorite things about spending time at my favorite place. The atmosphere of Elk County contains an incredibly tranquilizing sense. A lonely cabin placed in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone service and rarely any other people. However, if there are other people, we all share the same goal, to relax. The camp itself occupies the top of a popular mountain in Elk County called Winslow Hill. This hill belongs to a portion of the county that houses hundreds of camps, visitors, and the Elk County Visitor Center. This is an easily accessible area where elk can conveniently be seen. The cares of the world come off my shoulders when I step into Elk County.

Her hair curls off her bright face in tight ringlets like little bundles of joy, accentuating her young enthusiastic face. Her clothes hang off her tiny frame like a potato sack on a twig. Her smile stretches from cheek to cheek, wrinkling her pale forehead and forming small fragile dimples on her rosy cheeks. Her skin is as pale as chalk, accept for her cheeks which go a deep shade of fuschia when she’s excited. She’s like a china doll, all fragile and small with her tiny dresses on. She has thin pink lips with a scar on the lower right corner of her bottom lip. She has little stubby arms and legs which make it hard for her to function normally, as her torso is too big for the rest of her body so she falls over a lot. It's hilariously sad, but she’s a trooper so she gets right back up, brushes herself off and gets on with life. I feel that we could all learn a lot from her.

Jamaica. A country roaring with culture and beauty, just as I had imagined. Water as clear as glass and a jungle that touched the sky. Locals singing and dancing everywhere I looked. In awe of my surroundings I stood, not knowing that the next turn I’d make would shatter the perfect image I’d built, and change my perspective completely.

It’s been a long while since I last visited that place, I don’t know what kept me from going but I just could never bring myself to do so. It was like a moaning howl in the back of my troubled mind and I have had enough of it. I was going to be brave, like I promised her I’d be. And this time I meant it.