Snowman Descriptive Writing

Every stair that I took I looked over a different page in the book. I wanted to make sure I knew every word so I could read the story that night. Once I got to my room, my mom was waiting patiently beside the bed for me. I looked down at the book in my hands, it was old, barely hanging on by the thread binding from years of use. Then I breathed in deeply and mumbled “Can I read the story tonight?” I was afraid she couldn’t hear me, but she did because with a smile she nodded her head. Filled with excitement I climbed into my spot on the bed and quickly opened the book. My mom sat next to me and held one side of the big book while her other arm was around my shoulder. Then I begun to read “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,”. My voice squeaked through each page as I tried my best to read the story just as my mom always did. The smooth paper glided under my tiny finger as I traced each sentence to keep my place. The rhythm of my voice was not fluid but

As I finish shoveling out my snow fort and stop to smell the omnipresent scent of evergreens floating permeating the air, a feeling of accomplishment overcomes me. Its small, frozen walls of snow were now much more than the pile of plowed snow they once were. This pile of snow had now been christened as a fort suitable for a king of kings. The thick walls could stop the force of a myriad of snowballs, protecting the treasures hidden inside.

The first snowfall of the year had finally arrived one late November night, blanketing the small cabin and surrounding forest with fresh, powdery snow. The wind howled through the leafless trees, often relieving the weighed down branches of their snowy burden. The smooth and unblemished snow coated everything, leaving the road to the cabin indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain.

A lone candle burns into the senseless night. Its wax trickling down its side. I stare at the clock and it is barely half past nine, yet time seems to stand still. I stare at the window and investigate the nasty mesmerizing blizzard falling outside my window. I could not grasp anything other than the snow. All I can do is moan as each passing second this bloody snow lingers and destroys my vision of a perfect Christmas, in which Santa would come and visit me in my sleep. At the time I was only four but I treasured Christmas and the snow surrounding it. Little did I know the damage that it would entail into my life.

The fountain is frozen and icicles hang from the rooftop. The grass is bright white, covered in ice crystals. The sidewalks are frozen and the cars look like monstrous marshmallows. The entire family gathers for breakfast in the Mess Hall, which is an enormous room with a table shaped like a horseshoe and over two dozen chairs. Mounted deer hang on the wall, too numerous to count. A chandelier made of antlers hangs down in the center of the room. People gather around the burning fireplace for warmth. I hear pots and pans clanking together; I can smell the bacon and biscuits cooking to perfection. The smell of the brewing coffee engulfs the room. After breakfast, the kids go to our cabins and find the warmest clothes we can. We walk out the Mess Hall and everything we see is frozen. These polar temperatures are just like the ones when our family went skiing. We drove eighteen hours up to Wintergreen, Virginia for a ski trip with our cousins from North Carolina. Since it was our first time skiing, it took some practice and falling on our faces before we got the hang of it. Every night after the slopes closed, my cousins, my two sisters, and I brought sleds onto the slope and slid down part of the mountain. I can feel the arctic temperatures blowing on my face. My ears and nose turn shades of red and blue. My vision is blinded by snowflakes falling in my face. I cannot see where I am going until I hit a fence face first. I suddenly feel

Early in December of 1948 the village of Legends received one of the coldest winters in Legends History. Legends also set another record that December for the most people gone missing in one month (thirty two). With the thirty two people missing, Police and Dan the Snowman investigated the last time witnesses saw the missing thirty two people. Witnesses in nearby areas say they saw a tall creature with horns on its head and a lot of hair, more than usual. Jon, a witness, said the creature was ‘Krampus’ like. Before Dan the Snowman started to worry about his villagers, he knew ‘Krampus’ was back and ready for another battle.

It was a late October night on the last night of October, Halloween. The air was not to hot but wasn’t to cold either there was a slight breeze and it felt as if it was a comforting spring evening. It was about half past nine and it was quiet, well besides the few late night trick or treaters such as my cousin brother and I, and the occasional car alarms that would be set off because of the delinquents of Glendale, Utah. It was dark by now and the street lamps were mostly all burned out besides a

As I finished packing my suitcase the night before we left for Churchill the excitement started to settle in; the next morning we were leaving to hunt my first snow goose season. For anyone who doesn't know snow goose are now considered a bit of a nuisance out on the tundra, the once endangered species is now one of the most abundant waterfowl on the continent. Snow geese can eat their way across the tundra very quickly, destroying their habitat as they migrate through not only for themselves, but for other animals that also depend on the vegetation. I have hunted waterfowl before, harvesting the odd snow that was mixed in with the flock of Canadas but this was the first time I had traveled to target the species. That night I could hardly sleep I was so anxious.

Sneaking out the house at midnight for the fourth time this week. I slowly slink out the front and the brisk night air tickles my cheeks. Closing the door, I endure the most painful silence as the ever so slight noise may wake my sister. It finally shuts and I wait for a moment to see if anyone rushes to find who left or entered the house. After a few minutes, I decide it's safe to go. I walk down the driveway as the midnight breeze embraces me. As I reach the sidewalk, I look to the moon. It's tender white light illuminates the sky, but is polluted by the harsh yellow light spewing from the street lamps. Despite how ugly the street lamp light is, it still does the job of providing adequate quite well. I turn left down the street and head toward

A shadow of light cast itself across the room illuminating my sister who lay next to me in bed. She had pushed all the blankets on my side, sprawled her legs across the entire king size bed, and rested her head on my pillow, so close to me that I could taste the putrid odor on her breath. I glared at her. As stealthily as I could, I slipped off the blankets and got out of bed. The thermostat read 78 degrees. I pressed the snowflake button ten times so the thermostat read 68 degrees: the perfect sleeping temperature. Each time I pressed the button a high pitched beep filled the void in the silent room, echoing off of each of the walls. My sister's eyes flew open on the tenth beep. She sat upright and looked at me with an immense anger. Then she screamed. Before she could finish yelling my name, my parents were awake and out of bed, running over to her in alarm. “She tried to turn down the heat,” my sister shrieked through her heavy sobs. She started flailing around, rolling in the sheets and punching the mattress. I made a beeline for the bathroom, where I had hid three hours earlier when she had the exact same melt down. Through the

I walked slowly up the walkway to my house, locking the door after. I ran up the stairs to her my and flopped onto my unmade bed. I laid down, stared up and the ceiling and watched the blades of my ceiling fan spin in endless circles as I mentally plotted out how I would spend my weekend of complete freedom. I quickly made up her mind, deciding to spend her evening reading, my favorite pastime. I searched for the softest blanket I could find, made myself a cup of my favorite hot chocolate and settled down on my overstuffed living room couch, looking forward to my lazy evening. As I opened my book, the lights suddenly shut off, leaving me alone in the dark. “That’s odd,” I thought as I set down my mug and walked cautiously into the kitchen, trying and failing to avoid the walls. I began to search for a flashlight, feeling around aimlessly in the darkened drawers. “Ow!” I exclaimed as I cut her hand on a spare key. Finally, my hand landed on the long, cylindrical flashlight hiding in the back of the drawer. I flipped the switch and the bright beam shined on the wooden

I rolled over in the mountain of duvet covers to the sound of Dakota giggling. I smiled as I raised my arm to feel for my husband’s hand but all I felt was Bean’s fury leg. I thought about how the children, Lena and Dakota, would react to their Christmas gifts this morning as I jumped out from under the heating blanket. As I rose from my slumber, I could feel my muscles loses their strength. I dismissed what I had observed because today was special, it was Christmas.

Blowing warm air into her hands, she trudged across the street towards her condo. Her back was aching from the mass of textbooks she carried in her backpack. Her winter boots had filled up with snow, and made her feet feel like over-frozen popsicles. Through the front window, she saw the twinkling lights of their Christmas tree, all decorated and sparkling. She shuddered as she walked up the stairs towards the front door. As she opened the door, immediate warmth filled her body. She felt like melting. Hot chocolate was all she could think of.

Sticking two black button eyes on our snowman, I turned and gave Charlie a high-five. "Finished!" I said. "And there's not a finer snowman in the whole neighborhood." But Charlie wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the snowman, his face almost as white.

It was a frigid day in December. I wore so many clothes that I looked like a penguin. Every breath I took makes a small cloud and scattered. The gloves I worn seemed to be mildness like paws. The buildings behind me were covered by the thick snow. The wall became more brick-red because of the spotless white snow. Some snowflakes drift down on my hair gently. The snow was heavy, but not much wind. My friends bounced from worm house and laughed to me. “We should build a snowman. The snow is heavy enough.” One of my friends advised. We all cheered and started to pile the snow together.