District 12 Descriptive Writing
Dusk had come, silent, ceremonious, which brought her painful but pleasant memories in the diminishing light. Her shaking hands and arthritic fingers from the passing of time were holding the record player’s metal arm. The stylus hopped, moving lightly and quickly over damaged grooves from excessive use, landing very deep in the vinyl recording. She attempted again, one of her hands embracing the other, to the point where the overture’s rewarding hop and crepitation signified the precise spot. The incongruous speakers passed a faint melody of music.
The worn brass saxophone buzzed with arcane energy as I picked it up for the first time. Verdigris and rust crept out from underneath the joints binding the horn together and pockmarked the body of the instrument. Dark pits and long, deep scratches, like scars on a battleworn samurai of the Yamaha clan, covered the keys. The lacquer had been stripped off the body of the horn, but not the keywork, which created an odd, slightly unsettling contrast between the matte and shiny finishes. I almost thought that a vigorous rub would cause a genie to unfurl from the bell.
Arika and Tim would meet up all the time and I noticed. Mentally I began to break down. I became a junior detective. I began to be suspicious of everything she did and said. She lied to me non-stop.
William returned to the bedroom and opened his gym bag. He pulled out a clean t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, and continued digging through the gym bag. “Oh shit,” William whispered when he realized that he forgot to pack an extra pair of underwear. Putting on the day’s boxer briefs after a sweaty workout would be disgusting. He slid into the sweatpants without underwear.
“The hot, damp air was full of dirt, cement powder, sawdust, and exhaust from the steam shovels (Drehle 13.)” They lived in Tenement apartments. Imagine living in a four hundred square foot apartment with no windows and a shared bathroom with the entire floor. It was common for the hallways to have no lights. It was also extremely crowded.
The authors use images to create a vivid picture of the destructive scene. The reader is able to picture how the mining of coal affects the citizens of the community. The image of coal dust over everything it passes is shown by the author. Coal dust blankets, covers, coats, and forms a film over the trees, houses,
There were rats and garbage in apartments and each apartment housed an entire family. Sewage and garbage accumulated so much because there was no plumbing, so waste was dumped into streets and rivers. “The slums . . . [have] streets [that] are usually unpaved, full of holes, filthy and strewn with refuse . .
Ava Modin 4th hour LINC Escape The pouring rain crashed down onto the dark, cold grounds and smashed against anything in it’s path. It was a monster which would soak anything and the poor dog was a victim. Rufus laid upon the doubtful and depressing ground of the dark and gloomy alley as the hunger and bitter emptiness clenched his stomach like a fist pounding up against the inside of him. The dog hadn’t eaten in over a week and was starving.
The Buffet for Meat Lovers Whenever you want to have an expensive dinner or a buffet of meats, the first thing that should come to your head is a Texas de Brazil’s. I can remember two times I’ve been to Texas de Brazil. But the most memorable memory was the second time. My parents took me and my sisters because the next day I would be getting my braces so I wouldn’t be able to eat all that meat in one sitting, my braces would prevent me from eating. I also was able to go to the salad bar and pick out as many entrée’s as I wanted.
The repetitive phrase “The gray of the roof, the gray of cigarette ashes,” outlines
I feel “u” shaped grooves as I twist the circle clockwise. A steady noise plays out of the several holes in front of me. No interruptions, no frequency changes, just steady noise. Have you ever said that you've literally heard nothing? Well thats what's having a white noise machine is like.
As I observed the vast, brown vessels heading towards our territory, I turned to my brother, who usually stood towering with confidence and a perfect bronze skin tone, but now was slumped shouldered and pale as snow. Undoubtedly, whoever was on it was obviously more progressed than any other men I have encountered. I have heard stories of these groups of people from other tribes. Nevertheless, the stories never ended positively for us Natives.
Beloveds Have you ever found the one? Searching– in and out, up and down, online, and around town –until you have no doubt; this is the one. The feeling gets burned into your memory. Others will come and go, like the green of the aspen trees, but not this one. This is a forever feeling.
Cobwebs linger in every witch way, and antique furniture layered with dust sits perfectly arranged in the living room. Cautiously, I walk farther into the house to explore. With every heavy step and pressure on the floor boards, it feels as if the house will collapse on top of me. I make my way into the kitchen. An old wooden table sits in the corner, along with matching chairs.
“What a great day for a boat ride,” I thought to myself. It is a cozy warm, shorts and short sleeve shirt day at the time that people are arriving onto the big bulky catamaran. The sky is light blue with some dainty see-through clouds and a slight warm western breeze. I am located on one of the tropical islands of Hawaii, Kauai. The glossy white surface of the boat is blinding because of the reflection from the early evening sun.
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