First Day-Day Descriptive Writing

As I tried to catch my breath, I watch as my teammates flawlessly pass the oval-shaped ball along the line and simply pop the ball once it got to the fourth person. I saw it was my turn to go, so I broke out into a run. I caught the cold, ball and turned to pass it to the girl beside me but nobody was there. I heard everyone break into laughter as the brunette girl sheepishly ran up beside me and opened her arms for the pass as she giggled loudly. At least I knew that I wasn’t the only person not prepared for the game. The drill was a simple pass, pass, pass, pop which seemed simple enough, but I knew that it would be ten times harder on the field. Mid-drill, I stopped in my tracks as I heard the familiar high-pitched sound

I batted my eyelashes lined with sleep. For a moment, I was disoriented to where I was. I felt around the soft bed, waving around my arms frantically. The area next to we was cold; Ross was gone. I pushed my senses to get up, tempting myself with visions

It was 5 A.M. and my thoughts were everywhere. I kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep, but knowing I couldn't. I finally slipped out of bed, carefully so that I wouldn't wake up Olivia, and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I sat down on the living room couch and exhaled deeply as I stared into the sunroof.

He runs out toward it and within a second, he is facing it. The ancient rope, worn from weather, has small strings sticking out. Under the worn rope is the black rubber, once a stark coal color, but from its present condition, it is clear that it has survived extreme weather. Decades earlier, the black rubber had defined ridges, now the ridges are no longer so obvious and have been dulled down with time. The white letters that once bordered the edge of the circle are peeling off, littering the ground like snowflakes. He brushes off the dirt and climbs inside the circle. As he climbs on, his feet kick up dust from the patch of bare earth under the rubber and cause a dust storm for the insects below. He grabs hold

A single ray of soft sunlight, sprinkled with faint particles of dust, slipped through the mini-blinds of the master bedroom where Anna Monroe slept soundly. In addition to warming the right side of her face, the comforting beam of light signaled the beginning of her day. Shortly thereafter, from the nightstand adjacent to her bed, the digital alarm clock rang out, shattering the peaceful silence that had filled the room for the past eight hours. When Anna reached for the snooze button, her arm remained at her side, never shifting even an inch.

Rain splattered my car window as the windshield wipers whipped furiously back and forth. I clenched my jaw and whipped around a bend. I was beyond angry. Today, in the second week of the senior year, had felt like the worst day of my life.

My eyes flutter open lazily, as my slumber is interrupted by bright light, streaming through the window. Slowly I swing my legs over the edge of my bed, toes searching for the soft carpet. Standing on weary legs, I peer through the window to find a crisp white layer covering the grass. The sun is gleaming brightly onto the newly fallen snow, causing a nearly blinding shimmer. Heading toward the stairs my nose detects the sweet scent of a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. My sluggish steps become lively as I bound down the stairs into the aromatic kitchen. Studying the kitchen my eyes rest on the clock which reads 8:30.

Through boarded windows, I saw darkness. It felt like no time had passed from the beginning of the night. Morning had yet to come. I squinted, feeling uncomfortable as Alex breathed into my mouth. His hands were placed against the sides of my head to hold me still. I inhaled through my nose and he found my eyes. I wondered how long he had been doing that. I couldn’t be weirded out because I could barely breathe.

The warm sun beats down upon my forehead, and sweat beads upon it. Despite this I do not feel hot, nor cold, the climate is perfect not too humid yet not dry, paradise. Another fit of coughs brings fresh pain to my scorched lungs bringing me back to reality. I reach over to the worn oak table that lies next to my bed, but the pain in my joints prevents me from doing so. I heave from the pain that I have now become accustomed to. How did I get to this point, I contemplate this for hours on end as I have done many times before. Though I do not think about this much more as these horrible fits of coughing and heaving are progressively getting worse. I attempt to call to my parents to retrieve me more water, but the burn in my lungs protests and all that comes out is a muffled yell.

“Good night mom,” I called as I closed the door to my room , flicked off the lights, and headed towards my bed. I glanced over at the tiny white screen of my alarm clock. It read 10:45 p.m. I laid down, closed my eyes, and let my mind wander until a dark veil draped over my eyes and I entered the world of sleep.

Droplets of rain fell on my cheek as I rushed heedlessly towards the bus stop. I had just finished my volunteering at the Blenheim Lodge senior care, and the thought of having fresh hot chocolate with its savory aroma beside the fireplace had persuaded me to go home and relax for the day. It was 5pm; before I could examine my surroundings, I heard the sound of the air brakes from afar, and I knew it was the “25” I had always been waiting for. As I waited for the bus to arrive, I reminisced about the beautiful and the mournful memories I had shared with the bus. I remembered the times when the driver lowered the ramp to let the old lady on, when I shared my life stories with the old lady I took care of at the lodge, and the frustrating times

I wake up and think I am in our old house in the countryside. The sun is streaming through the window from rolling, green hills outside, and I can smell my mother’s cooking wafting through the house. Soon the day will begin, a long day, of weaving cloth.

Sunny patches of sunlight touched my face. I felt warm and sheltered. Snug as a bug in a rug. I thought. No one could ruin this moment. Across the room, I heard a noise. Knock knock. I slowly rose from my comfy bed and opened the door. There dressed in the usual white dress and flats was a fairy. Her wings gleamed with the sun. “Good morning Charm.” Her voice was friendly and sweet. “Time to wake up. You know what day it is.” I gathered my thoughts before speaking, “Yes I didn’t forget. Thank you for reminding me.” She smiled big before flying away. Sigh, I guess no more sleeping.

As we begun to exit the field house along with many other families I had given myself a pep talk. This day was my day and I will make the most of it no matter what. Over all the hollering, I heard a faint but distinct voice call out for me. “Ashley!” I thought to myself there’s probably numerous other people with the same name, and I continued to walk. “Pumpkin.” Someone shouted. That word caught my full attention and a chill had set over my body. I paused, thought about how I’d react at the sight of him, and began to turn around.

A chilled breeze caused my hair to stand up on end, so I peek over my shoulder to see the window in my bedroom door open. The blue, polka-dotted whipped around violently but I couldn 't hear the sounds of a strong wind. Huh, could have sworn I 'd closed that. . . I spring to my feet and shiver as I step across the cold floor toward my room. On my tip-toes, I pull the screen down to shut it and take a minute to stare out the window. The moon cast a dim light over the small town, illuminating only the fronts of houses and the tip of trees, abandoning all else to darkness. A light fog danced in the distance and I smiled thinking how perfect it looked on Halloween 's night. I looked down from the top floor one last time then tugged the curtains shut.