Essay Writing: Dean's Infamy

“At night I’d go home smelling of pig. It wouldn’t go away. Even after a hot bath, scrubbing hard, the stink was always there – like old bacon, or sausage, a greasy pig-stink that soaked deep into my skin and hair. Among other things, I remember, it was tough getting dates that summer. I felt isolated; I spent a lot of time alone.” (O’Brien, 41).

The room was musty and dimly lit. A heavy curtain was drawn across the only window, allowing only a slight and pathetic slant of balmy sunlight to slip in. Faintly, the air tasted of dog urine and stray fur—a fusty undertone hovering beneath ghostly.

Standing at the top of the stairs, the savory scent of baking biscuits drifted up from the kitchen below. She could understand why Fiona’s traveling salesman always picked this room. The luscious aroma filled the house with mouth-watering delight. The growling of her stomach led her to the dining room where she slid into a chair at an already empty table.

Jolted awake by the light shining directly in her face, Casey opened her eyes to find Ray leaning on one elbow staring at her as she slept. Twisting his wrist, she checked the time on his watch. “We’re late. Why didn’t you wake me?”

That scent was the person creeping through the woods. This man, named Darren, had been in the woods for many weeks, and he was hunting

Up until recently the small, fine unit that was their marriage had been predictable. Now disrupted by erratic behaviour, shifting gazes and finally exotic dinners of all things. Her unpredictability upset him, and as he ate the spices stung his tongue. He ground his food cruelly to fine shreds and swallowed forcefully, and the tartness of his rage clung to his palette and tasted an unpleasing aftertaste.

Castiel parked the car. He turned over to Dean who was softly snoring and had his head leaning against the window. Castiel smiled at the sight then shook Dean’s shoulder. Dean blinked his eyes open. His vision was fuzzy.

At about 8 in the morning, I woke up smelling the most delicious smell of my breakfast for my birthday. As I get out of bed, the smell of food is making me glide through the air and taking me to the kitchen. But, before I can even go into the kitchen I can smell all of the food whispering in my ears and moving up my nose. The smell of brown sugar and banana cascade through the house like an intense air freshener as the banana bread is basking in the oven. This smell only intensifies as the aroma of buttery, sugary pancakes hits me like a ton of brick and refuses to leave. However, the savory smell of potatoes and eggs kick the sweet smell out with a punch as my mom begins to produces the savory foods like the speed of light.

The mouthwatering smell of roasting turkey & sizzling ham only adds to the medley of heavenly aromas wafting throughout the entire house as I step out from behind the closed door of my room. My kitchen, spacious, yet always felt cramped; like a can of sardines. I began to maneuvered my 5 year old self through the dozens of friends and family members. As squeezed between people the odor of pungent onions and jalapeño, they began bringing tears to my eyes much like my little sister when the Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial came on. I finally made it through

THE smell of bacon and coffee filled the kitchen. William poured cream into his mug and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. James sat across the kitchen table from William playing with a Matchbox car instead of eating a mound of scrambled eggs that was quickly turning cold on the plate in front of him.

It smells oddly familiar, like, like toasted marshmallow, my favorite candle from Bath & Body Works. How did Chandler know this was my favorite candle? I hadn’t told him this. Surely he didn’t shop at Bath & Body? I decide not to comment and follow his lead. He puts his arms on my shoulders and gently pushes me down on a leather sofa. I hear him pop open a bottle of wine and he pours me a glass. “Feel free to sit the glass on the table next to you whenever you please, darling,” he insisted. As he tends to dinner in the kitchen, I just sit and enjoy the moment and the wine. I finish my wine a little faster than normal and reach next to me to place the glass on the table. My hand brushes something standing on the table. It feels cool and hard, like glass; it must’ve been a picture frame. I felt around and there was another one right next to it. “Are you looking for something?” Chandler’s voice startled me. “No, no, I’m sorry. I just felt these frames when I was sitting my glass down. What are they photos of?” I asked. Five seconds passed. “My mother and I!” he said with strange enthusiasm. “Now, come on, I know you’re hungry.” He grabs my hand and takes me to the

Dean put toothpaste on his toothbrush to let Cas brush his teeth and got him his pajamas to sleep in. Cas tried to remove his clothing on his own; however, Dean was forced to interfere when he couldn’t get the buttons on his shirt undone. Dean had been hesitant, but the exhaustion on Cas’s face forced him to aid his friend, no matter the level of awkwardness that came with the task. Once Cas was ready, Dean brought him to his bed and eased him into it. As the angel reclined on his bed, he took Cas’s hand and began to draw

Marcus jerked awake and sat upright in bed, wiping the sweat from his face as the last of the nightmare subsided. He reached over and turned off his still ringing alarm clock, feeling lucky that it had woke him up.

Dean looked at Cas because Mr.Tracy was the reason why they were even friends. Cas went home and went to sleep. He woke up he went to his job at the World Trade Center.

this in order that she would drop me off at the pub. I was keen to get