Decriptive Essay

Descriptive Essay On A Morning
Mornings just great. Us early birds have the gift of watching the world around us come back to
life after being so tired. We all know most people don't like mornings simply because it interrupts
sleep. Yeah, something you can do when you're dead. I turned to the window delighted to see a
bright gray sky; just one giant cloud covering that asshole of a sun so it can't burn my skin and
give me cancer. Sure, your idea of a beautiful day might include blue skies and fairies, but I never
asked you. Today was.... Friday. Nothing special going on, so I'd have the regular classes.
I threw on a black t–shirt and skinny jeans that were slung over my crappy desk chair and ran my
fingers through my hair to work out any rats while making my way through a dim hallway to the
kitchen. My house is just one big dim hallway with rooms.
"Hey." My mom was already at work in the kitchen as always. She had the same dazed expression on
her face as she did every morning as she did her tedious mom–chores. Every day she had to wash
dishes, do laundry, cook food, pick up stuff around the house, etc.
She set down a plate with a small cinnamon roll drenched in white icing out on the table:"Here, eat
this before you leave."
"Nah."
"You need to eat something for breakfast, it's not good to skip meals." She nagged.
"Says who?"
"Says me. I read somewhere about it; they did quite a few studies on it."
"Hn, Bye." The screen door slammed shut before my mother could finish her pointless lecture. I
wasn't going to be late for school because of a cinnamon roll.
Most kids get their parents to drive them nowadays, but walking is a perfect opportunity for some
alone–time. People can just come find and interrupt my reveries even in my own home, but when I
walk, I'm traveling, and no one's going to try and catch up to me. Just thoughts, music, and burly
trees looming over cracked sidewalks. For the most part, it's a peaceful yet uneventful journey.
Other than dogs occasionally carrying on or people leaving early for work, there are almost no
interruptions.
Chg–chg–chg–chg. I grinned at the sound of a train beginning to rumble across rickety, old railroad
tracks. Somehow, I couldn't help but smile during moments like these. Soon the train
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Descriptive Essay About Coffee
The Addicted
Every morning is the same. Joe gets up, goes to the kitchen and turns on his coffee maker. The
water in the basin starts to bubble as it heats up; soon after, a black liquid starts to slowly drip out.
Seeing that heavenly liquid fills up the glass pot always excites Joe who relies on caffeine to fuel his
body's engines. He pours himself a cup of plain, black coffee and sits on his back porch to watch the
sun rise, slowly sipping the steaming cup of roasted deliciousness. Over in a more urban area,
Francis turns his stove on and puts a kettle full of water on top it. He thumbs through a novel he
picked up at a local cafГ©, patiently waiting for the water to start boiling. Once the kettle starts
screaming, he removes it from the stovetop, walks over to his Chemex coffee brewer, and carefully
pours the water over his freshly ground Kopi Luwak coffee beans. The smell of the beans permeates
the air, making it impossible to escape the wonderful, earthy smell. Down the street, Tiffany is
standing in line waiting to order her daily, caramel macchiato Starbucks Frappuccino.
The first type of coffee drinker is very well–known across the whole world. This type of person
cannot function unless they have their cup of coffee in the morning. These are the traditionalists.
They do not require extra additives in their coffee because all they really need is the caffeine.
Drinking coffee is almost like a routine chore for them. They have become so reliant on caffeine that
they

Descriptive Essay On Travelling
Well Traveled As the airplane landed we all peered out the window and saw how dark, gloomy, and
rainy Munich was that morning. We all stumbled out of the airplane tired and exhausted from a
sleepless fourteen–hour flight. After I got through customs and onto the bus everything felt normal.
That morning was quite strange, we were in the town of Frankfurt waiting for the other school to
arrive. Our journey started with us trying to find food at 7 a.m., on a Sunday in a vacant city. I
quickly spotted a McDonalds and it was the only place that was open. The streets were lined with
empty alcohol bottles and pigeons trying to eat the scraps of garbage that was left over from the
night before. My friends and I were on our way to find any store that was open that morning to
waste time as we waited. I noticed a street cleaner cleaning up all of the garbage and he noticed
that we were Americans and wanted to mess with us. He pined us with his street cleaner against a
glass wall and became within five inches of us. I couldn't help but laugh. I was nervous because I
didn't know what was happening and why he was doing that to us. As a group, we all just went on
and dismissed it. The next day we slept a lot as we made our way to the Neuschwanstein Castle in
Germany. This Castle was breathtaking. It was tucked and hidden away in the German
Mountainside. The hike was a long walk up the mountain. To even get near the castle. I was so tired
from the day before that the two–mile hike was

Descriptive Essay About Spring
Spring is such a wonderful and joyful season. The air begins to warm, and the temperature rises
slowly. Not only that, but the days seem to be getting longer as well. As the snow begins to melt in
northern America, the lovely flowers begin to bud and the flies begin to come out. The tree buds
starts greening and preparing itself to grow. The air smells different as opposed to winter, it smells
fresh and alive. Spring wraps up winter, and leads on to the hot and humid season called summer.
Spring is the season that prepares itself for the next season, as forestry is starting to grow and
thrive. The animal kingdom also uses spring to mate. The bears that were hibernating no longer have
to hibernate. The smell of freshly cut grass also goes through the warm spring air.
The grouchy people of winter also start to become happy again. Most people dislike winter as it
cold and the driving condition are not great. However in spring, everything is having life, or
coming back to life; as well as their spirits. Spring is finally the time where people can finally eat
outside, open up the window to let fresh air in. Nothing is better than seeing the neon green trees
and grass shining through the low amounts of snow that might still be left behind by Mother Nature.
The farming trade also begins in spring; the farmers begin to plant their vegetables so they can
harvest them when the time is right. Spring also has a very nice holiday, Easter. Families gather at
each other's houses and

Descriptive Essay
How to Write a Descriptive Essay
More than many other types of essays, descriptive essays strive to create a deeply involved and
vivid experience for the reader. Great descriptive essays achieve this affect not through facts and
statistics but by using detailed observations and descriptions.
What do you want to describe?
As you get started on your descriptive essay, it's important for you to identify exactly what you
want to describe. Often, a descriptive essay will focus on portraying one of the following: a person a
place a memory an experience an object
Ultimately, whatever you can perceive or experience can be the focus of your descriptive writing.
Why are you writing your descriptive essay?
It's a great creative exercise to sit down...show more content...
Conventions of Descriptive Essays Illustrated by Sample Paragraphs
Appealing–to–the–Senses Description: Let the reader see, smell, hear, taste, and feel what you write
in your essay.
The thick, burnt scent of roasted coffee tickled the tip of my nose just seconds before the old,
faithful alarm blared a distorted top–forty through

Descriptive Essay About A Perfect Day
Morning
How breathtaking an early sunrise looked. Nature had never had such beauty to behold. The sun
's rays on the horizon looked so beautiful against the clouds. It made them turn all different shades
of pink, gold and orange. Soon enough, the sunlight has filled up the entire sky. It was totally
worth waking up at the crack of dawn. Despite how tired I was, it was the start to a perfect day. I
relaxed while I listened to the birds singing in the trees. A cold breeze picked up in the wind
making me shiver. I was glad. The last couple weeks of summer had been scorching. With the cold
breeze in the wind warmth of the sun on my face;that made it even more spectacular. It was perfect.
Absolutely perfect. After another half hour on the...show more content...
Little did I know it was the biggest mistake I have ever made...
Afternoon
Another silent tear falls makes it's way down my face and falls onto my tear stained dress. Once
silky and beautiful, now crumpled and wet after all the crying I have just done. Still, no matter how
many times my parents have tried to explain to me, I still can't believe it. Princess cannot, and will
not(at least on my watch) –ever die. I have bursted into giant sobs by now. I know my parents are
trying to make me feel better, and I really am sorry for making this whole situation worse –well, not
at least entirely. I still can't seem to understand what my parents are trying to tell me. Well, of course
I know what they are saying–I'm not deaf, but I'm having trouble just taking it all in . "Breath, just
breath" My parents keep telling me. I get that they are trying to help me, but it's not working. Not
one bit. The more they keep talking to me, the angrier I get. I am really messed up right now. I
guess my emotions are a mix between sad and crying and so angry I feel like I am just about to
blow my top. No seriously. By now I've reached to a point where I am screaming. It's all my fault!
No it's not sweetie. my mother tells me for the uptenth time. I feel bad for my sister. Poor Priscilla,
sitting down on the couch watching all the chaos go on while I scream between giant sobs. My
twin sister is very silent, but once you get to know her, she is super

Descriptive Essay : ' The Ghost ' Essay
Just then, I noticed a ghost in the distance who was simply staring blankly at the landscape. As I
came alongside, the ghost was simply staring at the Spirit; I received the impression that the
conversation would soon begin again. Continuing to stare at the spirit, the ghost spoke, "See now,
Elphias, this is simply the same discussion we started back in high school. There is nothing new
about it and you always thought that there were black and whites. You still haven't changed your
mind I see." The spirit smiled and replied, "Yes, it is the same discussion, but I am happy, if you
join me, you too can receive this happiness. All that you have to see is that there are absolutes."
"But there are no absolutes. We've been over this before. What is good and true for you may not
be good and true for me. Your rigidness has not lessened with time. You always failed to embrace
the gray; that whole idea of black and white was simply wishful thinking." "Was it truly wishful
thinking though? Where you came from, is that not the black and am I not white with the
Glory?" The ghost gave a disbelieving chuckle and attempted as best he could a patronizing
smile. "It may appear black and white to you because of what you believe, but as for me, I can
hardly stand to look at you. How do I know it you are really white?" Where did you just come
from? Is not perpetually twilight and rainy? What emotions arise in you in that place?" "Different
emotions for different people. No doubt some

Descriptive Essay On The Cave
PICTURE THIS! Boxed in a cave where there are no cracks in the rock to let in sun rays. You and a
couple of friends have lived here your whole lives only talking to each other, sharing ideas, making
a fire to provide everyone a source of heat and entertainment.
The only entertainment you all have are the shadows that pop onto the wall from the light of the fire.
When a shadow appears on the cave wall, the images you see are different types of animals, plants,
people, and even the sun. Discussion arises every time a shadowy figure appear which sparks
everyone to show their intellectual perspective on each reflection. Believing that if you understand
the images that are being projected onto the cave's wall, you will be successful in life but truth is,
those pictures are just mere shadows. One day, you're stumbling around and made a mistake
finding a way out of the cave. As you are walking to the exit of the cave, you are now entering into
a whole new way of life that you once didn't know existed. Upon entering the outside world, you
are intrigued to see what the sun really is, how the plants have different colors and smells, and
what animals really look like. Eager to convey the world that you saw outside the cave, you
stumble in the darkness heading back inside because your eyes have finally adjusted to sunlight and
the lack of light is making it very hard to see in thr dark. You finally
Paris 2 make it back to your friends and proceed to break the news to them about how

Descriptive Essay About The Ocean
Nevertheless, the comforting white clouds began to stretch and darken swirling themselves into a
silvery metallic vortex. Majestic and alive a giant eye looked down upon me, with a menacing
gleam, like it wanted to toy with me then changed its mind due to mere insignificance within its
domain, and more important business for itself. My tiny body amid this vast strange universe,
staring at the gunmetal clouds, overcome with motion sickness that I had never experienced before.
Otherworldly, the impossible spinning waves tunneled through my cells, and with it this time – the
smell of death. It hit like a copper truck slamming into me creating a hole to dump its load of
rotten eggs, human waste, cheap perfume, and rotting meat forcing my cells to explode from the
inside out. It ignited a force of nausea in me so strong my head jerked and I blew out blood, vomit,
and a silvery black ooze into my regulator. I kept purging the exhaust valve of excess blood, vomit,
and liquid metal. The distinct smell of death became a taste I couldn't expel. An unholy taste of
metallic death. The opposite spinning double waves kept moving through me, shattering my core
with its opposing directions.
Bright, iridescent metallic flashes outlined every wave's form; inside an internal beast of hematite
black. But why? Why is the ocean changing? The ocean, my friend? Into what, and what was it
changing me into? I tried to grasp it as if it was on the tip of my tongue, but it wasn't, I couldn't know

Descriptive Essay About Music
I grab the white headphones and put the EarPods into my ears. Then, I go through a variety of
songs until my thumb lingers over the song "You Know Me" by a band named Thunder Dreamer.
Quickly, I click play and the world around me stops as the music enters my ears. The soft guitar
strums put an end to my over thinking and suppresses my feelings of sadness. By the time the vocals
appear in the song, I can only think about music and how happy I am in this moment. By this I mean
that hearing music is the equivalent of being at peace. To be more specific, music puts me in every
place I've ever felt happiness, tastes as sweet as it sounds and relaxes my overwhelming thoughts.
With this said, I am on top of the world when I have the headphones in my ears. I feel as though I
can do anything when I am blasting a song by Cage the Elephant on my speaker. Whether I am
listening through my headphones or on a speaker, the volume is always the highest it can be.
This way, the music penetrates through the walls and through every layer of skin on my body. I
know this high level of noise is not good for me, but the music is. Uniquely, music places me back
into every dream I've ever forgotten. I am suddenly placed into the dream where I'm a kid and I
am laughing as my friends try to catch me in a game of tag. In a matter of three beats, I am a child
again and I can only thank music for this. Moreover, when I hear Frank Sinatra's voice playing from
my "Classics" playlist, I am put back into the

Descriptive Essay On Dystopia
Dystopian Setting
The city that once had homed thousands and been the most economically successful country ever,
was now a contaminated wasteland. The land looked dry, destroyed and lonely. The morning
breeze felt like crying sorrows, and the grey deceitful sky awed down at us. In the deepest corner of
despair lies dystopia where hope dies. As someone looks through the eyes of the devil, they see his
utopia. Only visible by the dim light of the moon was the great wall. Beyond the wall? No one knew.
Stretching away from the wall was a humongous bridge that towered the wall. Standing tall on the
bridge was a tower, which had two circles that almost looked like eyes. Those mysterious, creepy
and dangerous looking eyes stared down at the city giving away a haunting look.
The reek of death hangs in the air throughout the land. Filling the mouths of those who lived in this
abandoned land was the taste of burnt garlic. The screams and cries of terror undistinguishable
between beast and human fill the ears of the last ones living. The sky, which was lit by the glow of
fires, is grey and empty. Decaying bodies and...show more content...
As I walked, the air of this haunted, dreadful and sorrowful land had sucked the life out of
everything and roared as humanity began to disappear. As I carried on walking, I noticed that the
small fraction of light was getting smaller and smaller, until it had been engulfed into a think
black ash like smoke. Aggressively, the wind walked past the building with its cruddy feeling,
blowing away all signs of life. Deeper and deeper into the land was a burning car door. The fire
roared and crackled. The roaring and crackling of the burning car door merged with the aggressive
air and created the loudest sounds ever heard on land. Growing darker, the skies made me feel
nauseous. The fear of not waking up if a human fell asleep towered

Descriptive Essay About A River
"I thought how lovely and how strange a river is. A river is a river, always there, and yet the
water flowing through it is never the same water and is never still. It's always changing and is
always on the move. And over time the river itself changes too. It widens and deepens as it rubs
and scours, gnaws and kneads, eats and bores its way through the land. Even the greatest rivers must
have been trickles and flickering streams before they grew into mighty rivers. Are people like that?
Am I like that?" – Aiden Chambers. I grew up alongside the Mississippi River and now I have the
privilege to have the mighty river in my backyard again. This great river is just as beautiful as I
remembered. On Thursday evening, as the sun began to quickly set and the sky became a
beautiful oil color painting with many variations of pinks, yellows, and blues. When I looked to
my left, I saw pink clouds that looked as if someone painted them to the sky with a dry paint
brush. There is a line trees just below the wispy clouds. One the trees in the middle were a little
taller than the others. Across the river in Illinois, there is a large power tower. The tall grass in the
field on the left blocked me from seeing the river about 20 feet away from me. The dry, sandy path I
parked my four–wheeler on was torn up with ruts from the constant large trucks full of people who
enjoy the river as much as me. Straight ahead of me, the river is calmly pushing a large piece of
driftwood south along with the currents. There is a line of tall, green trees across the Mississippi
river in Illinois. The sand bar over there is covered in brown rocks. The sand bar in front of me looks
very similar. There are rocks and dirt, all the same light brown that makes me you feel like it hasn't
rained in years. Tall green grass lines the sides of the dirt path that I drive my four–wheeler down to
the edge of the water. There a rock dyke that jolts out one third of the way into the water. This is
to keep the rush of the water calm. Parked on the sandbar in front of me is a white Ford F150 and
a black Mercury Milan. Three men and one woman accompany these vehicles. One man is walking
down the dyke, while the others stay crowded around prepping their

Descriptive Essay On Anxiety
Generalized anxiety is a disorder in which a person has normally tense, uneasy, and feels very on
edge more often than not. I have always had a bit on anxiety with being near and/or around people,
I have never felt completely comfortable around anyone and often feel uneasy and nervous about
everything, but during my last year of middle school my anxiety got tremendously worse with the
stress of school. During my 8th grade year I was going to a college prep academy that came with an
incredible amount of stress for a thirteen–year–old. As the school year went on I would get more and
more homework and assignments. On average, I would come home with about four hours of
homework that would be due the next day, eventually the stress and overwhelming amount of
work became hard to handle and I started becoming more and more worrisome and uncomfortable
in public. As the school year went on I just became extremely nervous and uncomfortable about
everything, scared to move in front of people, scared to get up and sharpen a pencil, my hands
were more often than not sweaty and gross feeling which just made me even more nervous because
what if for some reason someone would need to touch my hand. I felt uncomfortable around friends
that I had known and gone to school with for years. I eventually stopped going out at all and just
stayed home, I wouldn't go out to eat with my parents nor would I go out with friends or anything. I
started becoming very secluded from everyone. Eventually my

Descriptive Essay : My Unforgettable Travels
My Unforgettable Travels Visualizing a picture in your head can be so captivating and it can bring
back memories you'd never thought you would remember. I visualized a picture of a love lock
bridge in Paris, France because it is something that stood out to me when I was traveling. Everything
about this area was amazing and breathtaking. I will always remember traveling to France and Spain
because of how different other countries are than the United States. Going to these places really
made me love exploring and learning new things about the world. When going to France, I really
depicted it as a different place than it was. I thought it was going to be just like New York City
with a little touch of different people. I was so incredibly wrong. I went there in February of this
year and ever since then I can't wait to go back to different countries. The lifestyle there was so
serene and mesmerizing all at once. You felt this almost joy of just walking into certain places. I
went to multiple different places there. For example, I went to the Palace of Versailles, Hotel Des
Invalides, the Eiffel Tower and then art museums with painting like the Mona Lisa and much more.
These places were spectacular and so different. The work of every building was hand crafted and
made me wish I could live in Paris. The people there were a little rude to Americans, but that didn't
stop me from trying to converse with them as much as I could. I would always look up different

Descriptive Essay On Haunted House
If there was one thing that has grasped my attention as much as it caused me nightmares, it was
haunted houses. Not the type of haunted houses that pop up around Halloween and frighten you
with organized jump scares. I mean real haunted houses with a backstory. The kind where
someone ended up being murdered on the property and the person's spirit lingers years later.
That's what I am on the search for. My interest started after I had accidently watched My
Paranormal Encounter while channel surfing at the age of 10. Ever since that day I've been
doing research on paranormal activity: attempting to discover a way to conquer my fear. It's been a
decade since I first began and myself, along with a few friends, have been preparing for almost a
year to further my research by visiting a real haunted house. Convincing myself that I was ready for
this was more difficult than convincing the others involved. Even now as I sit in the back of some
beat up van I feel like we should go back. I shifted my attention from the view of cornfields outside
the window to the front where Tony and Cheryl sat jamming out to some song by Guns n' Roses
with the windows down. They started waving their hands around like fools, attempting to keep
everyone lively since we had been on the empty road for several hours without stopping much.
Behind me, Kurt opened the mini cooler, which sat upon miscellaneous crumbs that had always
coated the colorless carpet, and snickered.
"Who wants a Coke?" he hollered to

Descriptive Essay Example
Descriptive Essay Final The downtown metropolis can be a complex place, and some may need
to become accustomed to it. It is Five O' Clock in the afternoon. The sun is starting to drag itself
lower, dimming the landscape, leaving a majestic orange on the horizon. The towering structures
above leave enormous shadows on the people below. Car horns ring and sirens pulse, as the
people make haste towards there destinations, rushing aggressively as if though it is a race. The
end of the work day has just began. The craze is unique from anywhere else. An endless flow of
people and vehicles seem to liter the area. A man can be seen making his way towards a small
parking lot. The parking lot has not been taken care of for some time. Potholes...show more content...
Lush, green trees are everywhere. Every house and small business seems to have one or two of
them. The car makes it's way down a small street, with old fashioned houses. The car comes to a
halt in front of a beautiful tan house. The house feels cozy. The tan painted planks of wood stack
up until they reach the charcoal shingles of the rooftop. Two enormous windows are on the front
of the house, with fine, white curtains that can be seen hanging from them on the other side. On
the left side of a house there is a large chimney, which gives the house a traditional look with it's
brown and red bricks. In the front yard of the house there is a smooth, clean concrete walkway to
the front door, surrounded by many bushes, and flowers; trimmed perfectly. This house is well
kept, and it stands out as a beauty in the neighborhood. The man walks up his paved walkway, and
into the house through a large white door, with four small windows on it, and a cross like pattern
beneath them. The doors gives of the look as if it is an entryway to heaven. The house is peaceful.
Only the birds chirping in the trees can be heard. And as the man enters his house excited children
raise there voices, "Daddy Daddy!". This family man is

Mine Descriptive Writing
It is mine. The golden sun that shines and kisses the tops of my shoulders. The wisps of white
clouds traveling within a baby blue sky. The gentle breeze that coils itself around my arms
providing relief from the warming sun. The sapphire sea and its serene waves rolling gently out to
shore onto the finely grained sand. It is all mine.
It is mine. Even the darkened sky when the sun cannot be seen. Even the blackened clouds that
blanket the sky. Even the blistering winds that pierce my skin with frozen shards. Even the dusky
sea and its roaring waves crashing against jagged–edged boulders, creating a thick coat of foam as
white as seagulls' feathers. It is all mine.
It is the sea. And all of it mine. I wear a single drop of the sapphire sea encased within a small,
marquise–shaped stone. I wear the foam from roaring waves gathered up into two rounded
diamonds. I wear the finely grained, yellow–gold sand that surrounds it all, and lifts everything up in
a cathedral mount. I wear my ring. Even now, it gingerly hugs my finger.
But it's not truly mine. The sea can never belong to me. And the ring doesn't belong to me. And the
ring no longer represents the love and bond between two people. And the ring has no purpose other
than to exist. Or at least that is what I tell myself. But I feel my gut twisting, my head pounding, and
my heart beat quickening, and I know that what I tell myself is wrong.
At least one day of every year, for the past couple of years, I've seemed to

Descriptive Essay About Beauty
I think our minds are obsessed with beauty. We envy those we cannot be. We strive to have this
picture perfect life, or something close to it. When I was younger, I was never out going or the kid
that talked all the time. That just wasn't me. I never thought of myself as beautiful. I thought I was
pretty, but in my mind, to be truly beautiful, one must possess other characteristics beyond the
physical realm. To be exquisite, perfectly, and wholeheartedly beautiful, one must be: independent,
self–confident, and happy. I didn't see this in myself at the time, but how could I? I was still in
elementary school. There is one woman, however, who I considered being one of the most beautiful
beings. She is partially the reason I am the person I am...show more content...
I hated shopping. But this lady with her textured turtleneck always mesmerized me with how
powerfully she presented herself. She was always so polished and prim. I never remember a
Sunday where she looked like the overworked mother, or the stress ridden woman trying to keep
her life together. No, she was quite the opposite. She was in complete control of her life.
Years passed by, I no longer saw any of her kids. Her husband, who was quite obviously older than
her, began to deteriorate. He had surgery that left him unable to walk without assistance. She was
always there, guiding him, smiling at him, helping him into the car. She maintained the same
calm, loving style towards him, before and after. At this point, I was quite a bit older. I
understood death. I could tell just by looking at him, that his time was coming to an end; anyone
could. But she paid no attention to that. She appeared older than before. Not in sense that she was
dying, but she seemed like she had accomplished whatever she wanted in life. She seemed serene,
they both did. It was in those last few months they had together that I saw a couple truly in love.
They were happy. I've never seen anything like that before. I don't think that people genuinely
understand their feelings for a person until they've lived without him or her or they know that that
time is coming. She never once showed any sadness or sorrow. She remained as caring and as gentle
as ever.
He did eventually pass. She

Descriptive Essay
Descriptive Essay
It was a seemingly beautiful day as I drove on a joy ride in my bright blue sports car, with the
wind in my hair. This is an everyday activity for me. My friends would mock me saying, "You
spend more money on gas than you make working." I laughed to myself at the thought of jokes
amongst my friends. That happiness was soon halted. As I continued driving, I saw a car coming
rapidly around the curve. The car did not show any signs of slowing down as it headed towards the
intersection. The light turned yellow and then quickly red. Another object caught my eye that made
me fear what was going to happen next. A young couple started crossing the street wearing fancy
attire. The first thought that came to mind was, 'they are...show more content...
One of the police officers came up to me introduced himself, asked me my name and started, "Have
you ever seen this driver before? On the road or around town?" I quickly responded, "No, I have not
officer." He continued, "I learned from the call back to the station that the driver, David Chrisenger,
is considered the town drunk and does not currently have a valid license due to drinking and
driving". He asked me some questions and asked me to fill out an incident report. Still shaken up by
the whole incident I gladly accepted. The officer ended our conversation. "Thank you so much for
your time, Kevin. We really appreciate it."
The only thought running through my head on my way home was how much I had not
appreciated my wife and children. To witness something of that nature makes one conscientious
about what you have and how quickly it could vanish. I vowed after that day to speak out against
drinking and driving and the terrible outcomes that can transpire from something that some do
not view as a "big deal". It is apparent that better ways have to be found for getting drunk drivers off
the road. I encourage anyone to be responsible for their lives and others by agreeing to never drink
and drive again, and to also aid your family and friends in doing so. Have a designated driver each
night or call a cab. Everyone is capable of saving a

Descriptive Essay On Rain
It's cool and dark outside of the car as we drive, dark clouds hovering over the plains as fat, heavy
drops of water fall from the full clouds. The lights of cars and streetlights and cars blur with the
flow of water on the side windows, our speed not fast enough to force the drops to flow back
along the windows. It's not until we start on the highway and the water starts to move that I find
my objects of interest in front of me in the form of the rain and the memories of my childhood
that surface with them. The rain on the windshield was and still is pleasant to watch. The way the
drops clump together and make small rivers that travel up the window before being slashed at by
the windshield wiper. It's calming to watch the water move as it wants, making new trails as the
wind fights to push the raindrops upwards. It reminds me of a sort of game I used to play when I
was little and watched the rain run across the windows. I used to always imagine that the rain that
gathered at the bottom of the window near the wiper motors where all the little water people that
needed to get away because they were trapped there unless they could collect into a big fat drop
that could carry them out of reach of the wipers when it went by. I always imagined that they
were escaping to little space pods that would bring them to the outer edge of the window that I
considered to be outer space where it was safe, and the side windows as the paths they had to take
to get home. When I was young this little game would entertain me on long car rides. I was never
fond of the windshield wipers. The way the black arms would come to push away all the escaping
water, cutting off the paths of the little droplets and flinging some away while shoving the rest back
into the bottom of the window. As a child, it made me frustrated that it would always ruin the
departure of the make–believe escape pods. I hated the sound the wipers would occasionally make
when the window was too dry to give it a slick path to slide over. It was also ugly and reminded
me of some sort of weird arm that was devoid of muscle or flesh, much like a skeleton which was
fitting. The windshield wiper represented death and failure of the hopeful, little traveling droplets;

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