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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The Devil’s Playground We as human beings naturally strive to participate and be active members of a “society” or a culture in order to feel incorporated into some kind of structure. Within a structured “society” there must be an in-between or “threshold people” (1 pg. 95)‚ which is depicted by Victor W. Turner as liminality. Liminality is a state of being in-between a structured society or “limbo of statuslessness” in which the individual or group becomes homogenized (1 pg. 97). An
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Autumnal weather is nothing compared to the winter‚ freezing my veins and forming cracks that run up and down my arms as I start to break‚ but every tear is freezing as quickly as it flows. I cannot help but feeling that things are beginning to fall apart. It was as if you induced me into a long lasting coma where my dreams were more appealing than the world you left me in‚ walking alone as a lonely vessel of what I once was. Left in the dark‚ much like the night at the bar‚ my most prominent memory
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green and black alarm clock goes off on the tableside next to my eardrum. I roll over onto my right side and hit the dismiss button turning off the vexatious sound. Slithering out of bed‚ I flick on the lights and slide on the usual black shirt‚ black jeans‚ and Converse; since it is the middle of January I put on a black beanie. I glide down the stairs and I topple over a colossal cardboard box and assuming it has Richard written in illegible letters‚ I know my stepdad has taken residence in my
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It was the 7th-grade year and everyone knew me well. One day‚ when I came home from school‚ there was no one there. Creek. Crack. Squeak. Squeak. I heard many small noises in my house. Then as I looked around‚ all my windows were wide open. There was a huge wind blowing through the air‚ harder than a hurricane. It felt like an air conditioner in the hot sweaty summer. Then suddenly‚ “ding‚ ding‚ ding!” My phone notification went off. The notification came from a social media app called Kik. The notification
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Without hesitation‚ riding in a bus is the most boring‚ gloomy places I can imagine being in since it has haunted consecutive saturday mornings. I sat eerily awaiting the early 6:00 bus. The hard cheap metal bench rests uneasy beneath me. I loom in darkness seeing as the rising sun hid fearfully beneath the bleak clouds. The only lights in sight are are the dim streetlights across from me and the faint glow from my phone display. Weakly off in the distance the sound of the crosswalk signal rings
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The Windy City This past summer‚ I went on a trip to what I now call one of my favorite places. The spirit of Chicago embodied me. I had always wanted to visit Chicago. I had seen many photos of the beautiful Windy City‚ and my friends often spoke of their visit to the city. Once I arrived‚ I did not want to return home. I was ready to leave my old life behind and start over. Going to Chicago opened my eyes‚ and taught me that I am meant to live in the city. Walking downtown made me feel like an
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The Hunt Your alarm goes off waking you from a deep sleep. You sit up and open your eyes‚ crusty and trying to force themselves shut. As you slowly get all of your hunting clothes on‚ eat‚ load your gun‚ and bundle up your really want to just go back to bed. Finally‚ out the door you go. As you are tiptoeing through the woods‚ leaves crunching under your feet‚ the occasional snap of a twig when you accidently step on a branch‚ you try to make the least amount of noise possible. The cold feel of
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I walk into the athletic hallway with the aroma of sweaty gym mats‚ grass‚ and cleanser. My head is spinning because of how nervous I am for this game‚ though I am walking confidently to the sounds of music playing in the background‚ coming from the obnoxious football players. My coach acknowledges my presence as I walk into the gym ready to start practice before the game. All my friends rush towards me‚ talking about who’s jersey I am wearing tonight. With all these girl’s around me I am suddenly
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Every morning when I wake up I let the monster‚ little Mr. Mittens our cat‚ out of his bedroom‚ make Folgers coffee‚ whip out a pair of non-stick pans‚ crack open the package of apple wood smoked bacon‚ and make blueberry pancakes. The smell is so overwhelmingly delightful that it has become something I enjoy dearly. Today‚ I have yet to realize‚ is a little different than most days. After I’ve had my fill of coffee‚ Applewood smoked bacon‚ and blueberry pancakes I notice that the wonderful aromas
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