Hwy 30A Thousands of excited people head to Seagrove Beach every year. The smell of saltwater‚ the taste of the delicious food‚ and the view of the glimmering blue ocean all come together to make for a memorable place. Vacations help us relax from our daily lives. Visiting Seagrove is a joyous occasion for me every few weeks I go. The sights‚ smells‚ and tastes of the beach put my senses on end every time. My brother feels the same way when we go to the beach. The smell of the salty water gives
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All I heard was dogs barking. I rolled over and looked at the time. It was 6:48. I got up and got dressed. Mom was already waiting for me downstairs. We went outside and walked down the road to the bus stop. I was so sleepy but I had already made a commitment and I just couldn’t back out. The bus came and we got on. It was so warm and toasty‚ the perfect atmosphere to take a nap. Within minutes my eyes started to droop‚ I just couldn’t keep them open. Then without even realizing it‚ I was fast asleep
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1/21/14 Bumps and Bruises I’m tired and restless after a mentally draining day at school. There are blurred lights and angry drivers all around me as the tires of my car grind against the cold concrete. My dad pulls into the back parking lot and signals for me to get out of the car. I groan‚ knowing that I am in for a long practice‚ and slowly drag myself out of the front seat. I lug my hockey bags out of the trunk‚ and they become another nagging reminder of the grueling workout I’m
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As I sprint across the hot sand that burns the soles of my feet‚ the smell of salt water and sunscreen hits my face. I can see teenagers nearby as they dive to save a falling volleyball‚ covering themselves in grains of sand. While I’m preoccupied‚ watching the intense game of volleyball‚ the cold waves of the Atlantic Ocean come crashing down on my legs. I can hear my best friend‚ Tara‚ dying of laughter as my body tries to adjust to the temperature of the sparking turquoise waters. Surrounding
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While the mob and their torches believe I am still on the other side of their camp‚ I waste no time in setting off my last great plan for this morning. While it may be true that they dug their fires into pits in the ground to hide from me‚ they will regret making it so easy for me to access them. Gripping my filth ridden rod tightly I make a final jab‚ into their very own fire pit‚ striking it as though it were one of the petty brigands. It doesn’t take very long for the rod to become engulfed in
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I stop at the edge of the graveyard. I am thoroughly equivocal about what to do. The wind whistles through the trees and the branches rattle the windows of a nearby building. My hands clutch the handlebars of my bike. I stare in the dark at the text message on my phone-- “ meet me in the graveyard at 9:00 and I’ll give you the photo.” My mind implores me to turn around‚ but my heart compels me to keep moving. The rain changes from a drizzle to a downpour. A whooshing sound startles me and I look
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Wind softly caressed my cheeks‚ sending strands of my hair dancing across the back of my neck‚ the roaring crash of the waves against the rocky shore attempted to distract me‚ and the salty scent of the sea crept through my nose. My concentration‚ however‚ never broke. It was as if all the elements of the nature surrounding me realized I wasn’t easily distracted. Everything stopped at once. In only a moment there was no longer any wind‚ no salty air‚ and no obnoxious sound. It all paused for a single
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I sigh lowering into an old wooden chair seated in a corner of the small shop I happened upon. Placing my warm drink on the rickety table‚ I stare out a nearby window and give a slight shiver. Grabbing the edges of my worn wool coat I pull the old coat tighter. The action doesn’t do much itself‚ but it makes me feel better. I look outside again‚ my eyes drifting over dull‚ empty markets‚ the slow rain drizzles down the pane of glass as I continue to look outside. A heavy cloud of gray has been hanging
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I woke up one April morning with the chickadees chirping rapidly in the tree branches. I threw my pants and socks on and rushed down the stairs as the smell of fresh bread assaulted my nose. Mom was already awake and greeted me with a slice of crispy toast‚ the butter was perfectly melted and seeped into the crust one squeeze‚ and it oozed out and dripped on the floor. Once I put my boots on‚ my feet were excited and before I knew it‚ I was flying out the door. One step outside and the smell of melting
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1. Descriptive essay writing An essay is a written composition of moderate length exploring a particular issue or subject. Descriptive essays‚ derived from the word describe‚ is a genre of essay that asks the student to describe something—object‚ person‚ place‚ experience‚ emotion‚ situation‚ etc. Writers use the descriptive essay to create a vivid picture of a person‚ place‚ or thing. Unlike a narrative essay‚ which reveals meaning through a personal story‚ the purpose
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