Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

The word lost was becoming more operative by the moment. The morning 's ice fishing over at nearby North Pond had been fine. After I ate my fish cakes back in my cabin at Mohawk Mountain, heat radiating from the wood stove, I 'd felt warm enough to peel down to a t-shirt and read. That was this morning.

"Olivia!" A shout rang through the house. It was a bright morning, the smell of autumn and school in the air as the morning of the first day of school began. Olivia happily sat up in her bed as soon as she heard her mother calling from down stairs. She hadn 't slept a wink the night before from complete excitement. Her first day of high school had come and she couldn 't wait to get it started. "Olivia!" The call came again, "Get up to get ready for school!" Her mother downstairs said as she began making a nice breakfast.

When I wake up, my head is screaming. There is a shrieking, a noise beyond loud, coming from somewhere nearby, but that’s not the worst part. My head itself is pounding. The searing pain is so bad that spots of black dance in my vision. I can make out the sound of my name, being called out over and over again. Tessa, Tessa, Tessa.

awn approached. Young Queen Audra referred to this time as the quiet hours, the time of day when all fell silent and most people remained locked away in restorative sleep and pleasant dreams.

Some people say that you are born the way that you are. Others claim that it is all reliant on how you were raised. The problem with that is my dads were the most amazing and normal people you could ever dream of. Every Saturday night, we would go to my aunts ' house to have dinner. My older brother would hang out with my cousins, but I didn 't feel like I belonged there. They would only talk about boys. For some reason, I just didn 't agree with how they think that boys are hot.

I frown. He’s lying. Anyone looking at him could tell he isn’t fine, but before I can say anything Adam pushes himself to his feet. When he walks forward, he leans into the wall and lets out a groan.

I walked along the shoreline, pleasantly stepping from rock to rock with my fishing rod in one hand and my tackle box in the other. Even though the sun was barely hovering over the horizon, there was still an hour of good daylight left. As I looked for a place where I wanted to fish. I admired the orange reflection on the ocean. I stepped down off the big rocks, and continued on my path, stepping over seashells, bunches of seaweed, and the occasional washed up buoy. Farther down the seashore, I finally found a spot with a big boulder that jutted out into the ocean from which I could fish. I made my way out to the tip of it, and was soaked by a wave that had slammed up against the face of the rock. I tasted that distance saltiness of ocean

I couldn’t imagine that I would have ever seen a tractor flying through the air, let alone a tractor landing just inches away from the room where my family was taking shelter. All of those childhood memories just gone just like that. My little sister Harper was crying to my mother saying “Mommy Mommy can it stop can it stop?” she wailed. I know this might seem crazy but that moment it just felt like time paused. And then my mother was crying to my father saying “Honey we lost her!” my mother cried.

“Great. So excited.” I speak my words slowly to emphasize sarcasm. My mom gives me her signature “don’t-give-me-that-attitude-or-there-will-be-consequences” look, one that I have received too many times during our lengthy trip from the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris.

Wednesday, 4:00 P.M. … A meeting ended as I consciously took note of my hesitant footsteps towards my locker and reached the lock. Right....left...right. While holding the cold, metallic handle, I could feel the developed callus thickening on my thin index finger as I pulled it up. Click. I slowly bent down toward the floor and stored my pile of textbooks and binders into a dull green schoolbag. My habitual movements seemed like those of a robot, an automaton with no sense of its surroundings. When I slammed my locker, it produced a forceful, clanky sound as it permeated across the hall of Moore High School.

The eyeliner makes the dark circles less pronounced. The lip gloss hides the trembling. The ponytail conceals missing patches of hair. The Abercrombie sweater covers bruises. I might look at bit thinner, so everyone will ask about my new diet. My hair might not shine the way it used to, so the pink ribbon will distract curious eyes. One hour of preparation and I look like myself. One hour of preparation and no one will know. One hour out of 24. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, wasting a twenty-fourth of my day on a lie. But then I see my wispy hair and baggy eyes, and I have to do it.

It was a nice, toasty spring day. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze blowing through my hair. I was on my way back from Donnie Ronald’s annual Guns and BBQ, where all the local guys come and shoot guns in Donnie’s basement gun range. Walking home I started to get a little hungry, I decided to take a shortcut knowing there would be some deer at the river. I walked through the swampy area of the Big Cypress Swamps just north of the Everglades. I had my military boots on and was prepared to go through the wet muddy area, with my gun and my knife, I was prepared for alligators and snakes. As I walked along the path, there was an eerie abundance of beavers.Maybe I was just very hungry, but they all looked delicious, so I shot one and put it in a bag to take home for mama to cook for me. I guess they got mad at me for that, because they sure did retaliate. About an hour later, once I was on the way home, I was on the path and I heard a big crack. It felt a giant icepick hit me in the back and I fell in pain. A tree about four feet in diameter fell on my chest. Struggling to breathe, I tried to push it off my chest but it wouldn 't budge. As I attempted to push this massive tree off of myself, I heard what sounded like chuckling.As I turned my head to turned to the right, I saw a group of beavers, sitting and laughing. One of the beavers marched over and grabbed the bag with my dead beaver dinner.The

I remember that day when I moved into that town. It was a fresh and clear day. The birds were singing and the sun was shining all over. I had unpacked and had decided to explore around the place. I went through the shops and the park, and there nothing interested me. I don’t know why but, nothing was interesting. I had walked around and I was pretty sure that I had seen something shimmering in the sunlight, but when I looked closer, it was gone. Now, I will tell you how I became this: a ghost.

Thud. Slamming my head on the table I aimed yet another piece of crumpled paper towards the bin. Naturally, it misses, adding to the pile of miscellaneous paper waste. A pained sigh escaped my lips as I resigned myself to picking up my pen. Tapping some unknown rhythm on the desk, I tried to make sense of my thoughts. The bite marks on my pen lid pressed hard groves into my tired fingers, a simple reminder of reality. I needed some sort of inspiration. Another drawn out sigh as I decided that I couldn’t bare the table’s mahogany damnation any longer. My chair screeched along the hardwood floor and I clicked my pen to cast it away. A wistful glace to the window told me that the moon was yet to rear its head. It was still safe to go out.

During the summer month of June 1830 it was very hot and sunny. The hot heat was beaming down on my head as I was working in grandma’s garden picking some peas for dinners. Every summer I always end-up at grandma’s house. She always wanted me to help her with choirs around the house during the whole summer. Well, I realize this was getting very bored to me. I wanted to have fun like my other friends, have during the summer. So I decided to ask my parents can I go to my auntie betty who live in Mississippi. I haven’t never been there before, I felt now it’s time to go there.