Descriptive Narrative Story

A long week of photo shoots had me exhausted. My highlighted brown hair was curled perfectly, and my ice blue eyes were slightly dulled. I was hoping to get all this makeup off before I died. My husband, Walter, had to stay late at work and Amity, my 4 year old daughter was at a sleepover, meant I had the whole night to myself. The family butler, Jose, entered the room ask what I wanted for dinner. “I 'm not very hungry right now, I might get something with a friend later, thank you though.” I respond

I threw on my favorite running pants and jump down the two flights of stairs. I have been waiting for this day to come for months. Today was the day I would sign up for the big race. I woke up as early as the roosters crow. My mom yells,”Emma are u up?” I walk downstairs and say,“Mom I have been up for hours already.” I hope I make a lot of friends today because I am new to this neighborhood and have not met anyone yet. I moved to this neighborhood two months ago and have been too nervous to talk

Gurjot Singh It was about midnight on a warm and boring summer night, as a hole burned through my pocket. My friend Isaac, my cousin Bevan and I were walking through the neighborhood. We were just down the street from Bevan’s, looking to fire up an otherwise dull night. We were young at the time so we were always paranoid but we decided to leave Bevan’s house for just a little while to have some fun. As we walked we saw a car drive by just a street over, we all noticed he seemed to be going relatively

I came out of the black SUV looking like a prince, wearing a crisp, golden, silk kurta with a white hat and a silk scarf. Immediately, I was thrown off to to side of the marble building like a tennis ball before knowing that it was actually two photographers who had pulled me out of the car like I was a celebrity. But, at the time, I actually was one! As soon as I knew it, I was swaying from side to side, making different poses and faces- right, left, cute face, serious face- it went on and on! Right

I will never forget this scene people crying tears of joy or happiness you just couldn't tell, yelling like they were about to die it was funny and horrific at the same time. and all of the above you would think this was because of fear but really. About three years ago it was mid-October around this time and as usual, we were at my aunt's house in Independence Iowa. It`s a house made out of wood my aunt and uncle built it with some of their friends when they first moved there I know that's not really

In hindsight, I realize I was not ready for a job, maybe I was just too immature. That Thursday night, in what felt like an empty cold room, I lay there crying, wishing for everything to be over. It all started the day I turned 15, I was just a young man, who for some reason decided that it was time to get a real job. I woke up that hot summer day and decided that it was time I go out and apply for some jobs. I chose to apply at my favorite restaurant, not knowing that it would be one of the worst

The sounds of the city at night mix with the laughter of my friends. Taxis honking, subways rushing under your feet, and buses rumbling, all carrying their cargo of dead-tired, empty-minded passengers, following the daily routine until they reach their doorstep. For once, I 'm not one of them, not riding my train after a long day at school, brain set to automatic. Today, I am wide awake, soaring a thousand miles high. My body tingles, still feeling the need to be on the dance floor, moving with

I had woke up to the tranquility of a Sunday night there was a slight breeze, It was May 29th, 2016 around eight p.m. I was alone and confused in a poorly, lit living room. I stared into these white walls that were so bright it felt as if you were staring into snow, I was stuck and could only think, “I just have to organize all my things for tomorrow before I fall back asleep.”  I sat there on my couch tired from the late night before. I felt time was ticking as the sun faded with each second, I

“Yeah go ahead and run Trinity!!! Run like you always do!” My mom slurred sloppily from the front porch. I sprinted toward South Mission Beach. As I ran further, I heard the screen door close with a loud clannnnng…my mom still yelling drunken nonsense in the distance. That was nothing new. My eyes watered as I focused on my form. High knees…elbows straight…inhale…press…shoulders square…exhale... I put my earbuds in and thought back to when I was just a little girl on the Boca Islands

A narrative essay uses a point of view to tell a story. It is an engaging way for an author to tell his reader about an experience they have had or a personal story. Descriptive writing is a description of something. It could be a person, place, thing, emotion or experience. The author is allowed more artistic freedom when writing in descriptive form. While both descriptive and narrative essays are similar in many ways, the descriptive essays use of language fully immerses the reader into the