"Ghost town short descriptive writing" Essays and Research Papers

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    A Terrifying Night Long story short‚ I was terrified‚ even a long night of partying plus the fact that we were drunk‚ couldn’t stop the trembling! Now were standing here engulfed in fear wondering what would happen next. The three had gone for a long night of partying in light of Mike recent graduation at the University of North Manchester. We drove for miles just because Mike said that there was a great bar just off South Manchester. The road he made us take was an aged‚ unmaintained road

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    every stroke. My opponents were rushing down the lanes to gain victory. The crowds erupted in cheers and applause. Their sea of smiles motivated me to finish the race. The mechanics and the precise turns regulated in swimming were crucial to these few short seconds. As I came close to my final strokes‚ my stomach started twisting and my heart beat began to rise. I stretched my arms and reached for the edge of the pool. This marked the end of the race. I threw my goggles in the pool and looked directly

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    Aquaw Descriptive Writing

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    The streets were empty again‚ as they had always been. A short breeze blew across the cracked roads of the city‚ and a deafening silence hung in the air. How long had I been here? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? It was like time had been compressed - or maybe it had expanded. Battered street lights towered around me with their cracked light bulbs. As I continued down the broken path before me‚ rocks and concrete slid and crunched beneath my steps. The torrid heat of the afternoon stung my skin‚ and the

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    Woods Descriptive Writing

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    The startling sounds of my alarm clock causes me to shoot forward from my bed. After my short lived panic I remember why I am waking up before the sun. I fumble through the darkness gathering my hunting gear before snatching up my shoes as I head towards the door. Pausing briefly in the cluttered mudroom‚ I pull my brown boots over my aching feet. I throw the door open and step into the misty fog. I look to my left and see the sun slowing coming over the horizon. I watch as it fades from a dark

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    Storm Descriptive Writing

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    let go and allow the storm rage on. She suddenly becomes aware of the soft sound of a radio coming from inside the building. The soft music takes her back to that unwanted place. Wanting to get away‚ she fastens her pace. Pretty icy swirls turn into short puffs of smoke as she rushes forward. Begging now for her to slow down‚ her feet create more pain trying to control her mind. Telling herself to ignore the pain‚ she begins jogging. A wave of sadness crashes over‚ forcing her to a complete stop. Admitting

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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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    Eric Moore Essay #1 #365 September 4‚ 2010 My eyes and ears open to the sound of chirping birds outside the dew covered window and my alarm buzzing behind my head. I sense that my room is still messed up from the night before after I threw my gym bag down from practice yesterday night. I stretch my arms and legs as I prepare to get out of my warm bed. I was so sore from practice it felt as if my muscles turned of and I couldn’t move for the whole time. I started to get the feeling back into

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    Fire Descriptive Writing

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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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    Locker Descriptive Writing

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    previous year. I hadn’t bothered to peel it off. The blue paint was slowly peeling off and the lock only worked half the time. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and shook it out before grabbing my textbook out of the locker. My nails were bitten short with chipped blue nail polish. Last class I had destroyed them with anxiety. I shut my locker in frustration‚ knowing the next time I tried to open the locker it would probably be stuck‚ and swung the worn bag on my left shoulder. I shoved my hands

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    loved days like this. The wind pushed my long chestnut hair into my face and brushed against the hem of my favorite peacoat. I always noticed this as I walked from the parking lot to the school‚ but lately I noticed something new. Even though it’s a short walk‚ maybe a hundred feet or less‚ I always feel like it’s the loneliest time for anyone. Everyone walks alone‚ contained within their own thoughts. I wonder if anyone else feels trapped in their own head like I do? That’s the thought running through

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