Telluride Descriptive Writing

Seeing my cleats you would naturally think that they are worn by an average athlete unconcerned with style. The first thing noticeable is how the cleats were originally white, but have turned a yellowish-brownish color like fading summer grass. The right cleat’s lace is torn on the end, so I had to even out the laces to be able to tie them. The left shoe has a black broken hair tie, knotted 5 times at the bottom of the lace. It was my girlfriend’s before it broke and she let me have it for some extra luck. The once “clear”, rubber spikes on the bottom had now turned brown and opaque, worn down to about the length of a fingernail. The covering near the toe of the shoe was beginning to rip off, so you could see a light brown rough fabric that structured the cleat. Even though they’re ugly, worn-out, and ready to be tossed into the trash, these cleats gave me the best two seasons of my life: one season of lacrosse, which turned out to be the season that led to a chance for me to commit to the college of my dreams, and one season of

The day I went to Delgrosso One day I went to Delgrosso. When I went there it was still light out. When we went my sister came,mom, and my other sister came with me.When we went there was a lot of my sister came my mom came and my other sister came.When we went there we rode a lot of fun rides but there was one scary ride.

A cool, fall, light, Oklahoma breeze blows through the trees. The sound of rustling leaves, and the cheerful chatter of my friends, fills my ears. My rainbow colored hoodie is wrapped around me. People canoeing on the lake call my name, “Graeson!” They say, I smile and wave in their direction. I wonder if they can see me from my spot behind the trees and poles. All of the sudden the person in front of me in line steps up to the ladder.

The cold rain fell down on my body as I involuntarily shiver from the cold wet feeling on my skin. I look around to find myself surrounded by puddles of water and no way out. My breath was visible through the air. I was one of the best days to run in as well as the worst. It was another exciting day at track.

Super! Where going to the barn it’s a fun place. That’s where I Ride my own horses. I and my brother like to go there with my grandpa. My cousins go there too. When we were going over there we pass by the races. Then we continue going then I saw a watermelon seller we bought a tasty and juicy watermelon. We continue more and then we saw a tamale seller they were so good. Next, we put on our cowboy shirt, pants, boots, and hat. We gave hay to the horses and grass to the cows, sheep, and goats. We took some milk from the cows and made it good for us to drink Finally, I ask my dad and grandpa” can we ride the horses.” “Yes,” we can ride the horses. After that, we got in the tractor a plant the weed. The wheel from the

The only thing constantly in my head over the duration of my deployment was my wife. I may have been fighting for my country, but she’s the only reason why my mind still orders my muscles to strain themselves. Every time I slept, it was like she was actually with me and I could feel her soft touch that was more soothing than the ocean breeze on a ninety degree day back in Oregon. Well, at least when I was mentally able to sleep, which only came about three nights a week. Unlike a large number of the men on base, I hadn’t broken down yet. Not physically, not mentally. What I didn’t know, was that next time I woke up from a dream with my wife, and the next time I jumped up into the cockpit to fly an aircraft, would be the last time I was capable

Passing the Fernwood sign, as I approach her gravesite early morning before work on 7/10/15 at 6:30 AM. I drive up an uneven gravel driveway dodging the grooves, looking at the back mirror noticing the dust my back tires are kicking up. The feeling of crunch vibrating off my tires, as the feeling you get when you are getting a massage on the nail salon massage chair. Just the calm vibration running from your toes to the fingers on the steering wheel. The grooves freshly filled with water from the rain the night before. Driving past the rusted looking water pumps used to feed the plants. Looking through window, noticing all different flowers laying on individual gravestone. Some vary from fake flowers but most are real freshly bloomed flowers,

The chief offered his hand and escorted Dana to the next area. A force field dropped and lights popped on ahead of them, leading down a circular corridor, Dana recognized the place. They were in the old mines. Now, these mines were transformed into sheen tunnels, led to rooms with protected secrets for the future. Her heart pounded faster with excitement plumbing through her veins.

The almost deserted airport, the freezing cold plane ride, my noisy family; yes, we are definitely ready for a vacation! Hot Florida sun and a ocean that stretches as far as the eye can see were all awaiting us. The thrill of it all ran from the top of my head to the bottom of my flip flops that will surely be on the beach in no time. Looking out the window of the airplane with popping ears, we came into landing at the Fort Myers airport!

Through the looking glass she stands tall and unyielding, her limbs swaying ever so slightly in the cool fall breeze. As I gaze at her beauty I can’t help but feel a connection to her. Through the chaos of the world, the pounding rains, raging winds, and the scorching heat she weathers it all still standing magnificent and tall (majestic). Her branches reaching to the sky like outstretched arms praying to the heavens. The changing season making her a colorful masterpiece against the canvas of blue skies. Crisp brown leaves fall silently, covering the green blanket that lie beneath her. In the last of the suns setting rays she is surrounded by a golden aura. Her leaves now a fiery inferno of blazing colors in the final gleaming light of the

“Watch it,” my mom instructs from behind a newspaper, “and stir it or else it’ll burn. When it burns it smells awful.” I stand before the stove, whisking a sweet, lemony liquid. It looks like summer, a soft yellow with white froth. It always puzzled me that we only prepared this pie during Thanksgiving, when the season is earthy and mild, and the dish is so bright and tart. I look at the digital clock above the stove’s dials and buttons. 8:48. I have been sloppily stirring for 14 minutes, sloshing the pie filling over the sides and onto the burner, where it singes and stinks up the kitchen.

Geralda is in the kitchen. Her hair, in its usual short curls, is cropped to her head and is the color of a blazing fire sprouting from ashes. As the chaos begins to steady in the kitchen, her onyx eyes dart around the kitchen trying to find something to shove back into place. The constant thumping and sliding of trays comforts her more than the steady beeping of the oven. She moves in slow motion, never once putting one thing in front of the other. Her small, delicate hands reach for the rag sitting atop the shelf holding to go cups. She dips the rag into the sanitization bucket, lets it soak, then promptly takes it out. She twists the towel and begins her work of wiping down the counters.

The musty subway trudged past the second to last stop. We've been above ground for a while so my eyes had adjusted to the bright mid afternoon light. The sun warmed the car and the small beams of light highlighted the particles of dust floating in the air. He was sitting next to me, reading on his phone just like He always was. The old muffled intercom interrupted his reading. He looked up at me, smiled, and motioned for the door. I felt a cool sea breeze as soon as the subway doors slid open. I giggled a little. It had been so long since I had been to the ocean and I had never been to Coney Island before. I skipped out onto the outdoor platform giddy with excitement. He just looked at me and laughed. I didn't care, I was somewhere new. The

A lot of people depict their Shangri-La or paradise at a place like Miami where the the weather is warm ands are the people. everyone has the body of gods or at least like “Baywatch”. My Shangri-La is actually on 95 tons of Democracy. An U.S Naval ship. I can smell the haze grey paint drying on it. The jet fumes in the air from theF-18s. I feel the sweat dripping on my back from 12 hr work days. The nights where i see all the stars the universe has to offer . Geez do i miss the flight deck. Theres this amazing rush you experience when a F-18 is taking off, OH MY!! Words won’t do it any justice but ill try.

The sunny days of summer have assuredly faded. On my end of the street, leaves will soon change color and line sidewalks of all ethnicities. They will then decay and disintegrate along with discarded cigarette butts, animal fecal matter and a host of other unknown or unidentified entities. As the temperature changes, the weather becomes as refreshing as a lager on a hot day and something about that change is rewarding.