Descriptive writing on satis house As I approached Satis house inside of my carriage I could feel the nerves growing inside of me. I got close to the rusted gates and stopped I had to get out and walk up to the old withered gates. I felt my feet stick to the ground and I found it quite hard to breath. The sounds around me was getting very load like I was standing next to a roaring plane even know I was getting further away I could hear the crows in the background and the snorting horses. When
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Descriptive Writing- Brodie Dashwood Rocking from side to side‚ I ran away from every problem I had in my life that was suffocating me. Now part of this included when I had to risk my life in need for that freedom I had been craving. My journey began 20 years ago‚ 5 whole years before I was locked down in the world’s highest security prison. I was ordered to the place that I considered hell on earth contained by a wall the height of a sky scraper drenched in high voltage barbed wire. Still to this
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sunlight would shine down from the boundless blue sky‚ dyeing the sea hues of orange and magenta. Now I can’t even bear to think of Cape Grim. *** The mayor’s room was small and square. The corners of the wall curled inward where the cheap paint was beginning to peel and rot. The light that shone through the cracked window started to fade as I recalled Mr Nungarin’s rapid words. “Remember‚ your research task for the holiday is the Cape Grim massacre.” Shortly afterwards‚ I visited the local library.
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Le Fou was a spectacular musician who loved to perform in front of spectators‚ and he loved playing all assortments of instruments. But by far‚ his favorite was the harp. Le Fou was infatuated by all string instruments‚ almost to the point of insanity. He enjoyed the feeling of the soft but coarse cords against his fingers. So when Le Fou heard the rumor of the golden harp he was obsessed‚ he had to find this “magical instrument”. Fortunately‚ Le Fou was born into a wealthy family and had inherited
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Absolutely nothing in this known world can break the silence—the room was lifeless. The floorboard painfully cries under the teacher’s fantastic high-heeled shoes; it invades the monastic stillness. Under the scrawls of a madman‚ written in a jet-black marker that has seen the end of its days a long time ago‚ slivers of the once pure whiteboard remains. My eyes dart towards the window as I stare at the barren tree branches; they shiver‚ afraid‚ in the thick cold and velvety air of winter. As my stoic
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for the cool‚ winter air‚ a sky filled with stars‚ and her. Tonight however‚ the wind is blistering‚ damp‚ and unforgiving‚ and courses through the wolf like a banshee’s cry. But with what can be mistaken for the fur of a humble dog‚ his pelt protects him from this almost supernatural presence‚ or at the very least‚ muffles it’s cry. Upon getting to the spot‚ looking over the cliff‚ down to the cold winter see below‚ ‚ he hears a faint whisper from behind. The wolf’s shadow begins‚ “She is awake”
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such “small” presents as $100 Lego or a Barby’s house in 6 rooms and garden furniture. Therefore‚ I thought that Disney Land was a good invention for loving parents.” The Sacred Grove of Oshogbo by Jeffrey Tayler The following essay contains descriptive language that helps to paint a vivid picture for the reader of an encounter with a man. “As I passed through the gates I heard a squeaky voice. A diminutive middle-aged man came out from behind the trees — the caretaker. He worked a toothbrush-sized
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of 9/11 like they were yesterday. The enormous‚ burning building collapsing to the ashy ground‚ people desperate to stop the plane that was being flown at 600 miles per hour‚ the impact of when the plane collided with the building‚ the screams and cries for help‚ along with my fellow passengers calling their loved ones to say they’re not going to make it. Yes‚ I said my fellow passengers. My name Lauren Kriewitz‚ and I am a survivor of the treacherous 9/11 attack. My flight was in route to Los Angeles
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I awoke that day to the sounds of men yelling and whips cracking‚ people screaming and chains rattling. I had no idea where I was. Though I had a splitting headache‚ I could tell I was moving‚ on something like a stretcher. I opened my eyes slightly‚ and saw that I was being carried by some men who appeared to be Fulani‚ along some sort of beach. I assumed I was on the coast‚ for when I glanced toward the sea it appeared to go on until it met the horizon. After understanding where I likely was
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A dozen squealing‚ laughing little girls tugged my arms‚ legs and hands. They were so excited to show me their bedroom. Meeting all the orphans at the Colima‚ Mexico orphanage was very overwhelming and very emotional. At first‚ I felt very out of place‚ like seeing grass during a Michigan winter. All these kids surrounding me right now have no families and have nobody to love them. These kids were all beautiful in their own way and really knew how to make you smile without even trying.They were like
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