Looking up I see a canopy of leaves unscathed by fall's sudden arrival. It is the last green tree in the yard-- the last glimpse of summer. It is calling me.
A strong branch, smooth with the maples bark, looms just over my head. I can reach it if I jump. The perfect climbing tee. The bark is young, soft, and easy on the hands. The leaves become translucent as the morning sun shines through.
The toes of my shoes make crumbling sounds as they drag against the sturdy trunk-- my arms pulling me ever upward. The ground is only feet away, but already the tree is pouring life in through my skin, caressing my hair with late-budding sprigs as I escalate.
The smell of sweet moisture from the shimmering leaves fills my nostrils with scented tendrils. They release the dew they are holding as I knock them aside with eager head and shoulders. Chills and goose bumps creep down my neck, back, and arms as the cold droplets tremble down my spine.
The wind blows. I am soaring. The leaves are my wings, outstretched and ruffling as I am carried from the earth. I am free. I refuse to look down at the cold earth where I am hostage to gravity. The wind licks my face.
Pure, untainted happiness swells in my fast-pounding heart. And then, in the last gust of wind, a single red leaf from my shady green wings drops into my lap. It is fall.
The woods seclude me from the rest of the world.I’m on my own with nobody else in sight, just nature, and only nature.I’m not alone though.The sounds of nature give me a welcoming feeling.I’m part of nature for the duration of the hike.There are no roads, buildings, or any type of infrastructure.There is only a dirt path, leading me through the wild and finally to my destination, the top of the mountain.
The hike starts out from a parking lot next to a highly traveled road.Humans are present, but before going too far, evidence of people does not exist, and cars can no longer be heard.There is only one dirt path, and that’s all.This is when I start to experience the presence of nature.At first nature has to adjust to my presence.The squirrels scatter away as I walk towards them, and scurry up atop the trees.The birds silence their chirping simultaneously.Nature is hiding and watching, as an outsider is near, but it isn’t long before Nature continues what it was doing.Now I am accepted by Nature and can continue on my journey.
On my continuation of the hike, Nature presents me with a number of pleasures.The birds form a band together, chirping with different pitches and tones.A calm flow of the streams gives a relaxing tone to my ears.They apply the music as I trek.The plethora of plants and trees provide me with a variety of different scents.The scents seem to mix together, giving a fresh air that makes it feel as if breathing is easier.It is when I get to the larger boulders that you know you are getting closer and closer to the top.Climbing up the rocks gives a bit of an exercise, but not an excruciating one.Once I get to the end of the tree line I know I am there, but I don’t want to rush because I want to experience every bit of Nature possible.
At the top of the mountain the reward is spectacular.The views are incredible and I feel as if I’m on top of the world.I can see for miles and miles.It’s as if I’m everywhere at once.You can see thousands of lakes and rivers blending in with the red, yellow, and orange colors of the fall.The view makes me feel as if I could stay there on the top forever, but I know I must continue down to the base of the mountain before nightfall.And as I descend I carry with me a feeling of satisfaction like no other.
The coffee table that was once empty, with nothing but a remote, is now covered with all the tasty pleasures one could ask for. My personal favorite is the stringy, perfectly, deep fried mozzarella sticks. The smell coming from the kitchen is a grease bath, with the sizzling that makes your stomach growl. When your mommy puts them on a plate with paper towels to prepare them for you, and once you receive the goodness from you mother, you dive in. The mozzarella sticks give you a grease residue, bread crumbs, and juice all over your hands, making it so you cannot touch anything else without making a mess. You would try to grab the remote and your hands would be so greasy that the remote would slip right out of your hands. When they are all gone, the only thing that is left is the plate, and the plate covered with grease saturated napkins. After you finish just the mozzarella sticks you feel gross, especially after looking at plate afterwards, but that is only the beginning. That is only one of the many things on this coffee table load with all the food a teenager loves. Included on that table are Doritos, potato skins, potato chips and dip, chicken fingers, and carbonated kid’s candy called soda. To go along with all this food is a guy’s best friend. This makes for an even better day kicking back with your buds.
One of the best parts is cheering against your friends, rooting for the team they hate. Jumping up on the couches, high fiving each other, yelling; there is no better way to bond with your friends. Luckily that happens every Sunday during football season.
I wake up to the scent of mind-boggling, crunchy bacon. Of course it is one of those days when your plan is to sleep in, but for whatever reason the smell of food cooking on an early morning awakens me instantly. I head down stairs to see what feast is awaiting me. Sadly, I find out that Mom had just barely put it in the oven. At this point there is no way I can head back up to bed; I am now starving. I can barely sit still my stomach is growling so much. I am wide awake and just need the fuel to move my body. I manage to get my body to the Lazy Boy that is in our family room, which just happens to be right next to the kitchen, so I can hear and smell everything.
I finally sit down and it is one of those bitter cold fall mornings, where there is frost on the windows. I house is nippy, and you have to bundle up. I’m still in my pajamas, but that is not nearly enough. I make my way to my room to snatch my comforter.
Now that I am all settled up in my blanket, and can tolerate the crisp fall morning, I turn on the TV. Of course the television is set up on my sister’s little, stupid cartoons. However, I try to look at the guide to get it to Sports center, but, my lids have the yucky feeling where there are blurry, blocky, sections so I cannot really see. My eye boogies make it so I can only open my eyes a quarter of the way.
Right when I get to the fascinating story I wanted to watch on Sports center, my mommy calls for me to tell me that the breakfast is done. Since that was my whole reason to rise on this early morning, I leap up to go grab my plate. Within minutes the food had disappeared off my plate, so clean it looked as if I licked it clean.
There is something about eating too much and having a full stomach that just makes you get that drained, wheezy, and have-the-urge-to-inch-back-into-my-bed-feeling. However, I want to finish my Sports center episode, so I kick back in the Lazy Boy. Next thing I know I am sound asleep. My lazy morning turns into a very lazy day.
There's a brown ship floating in the water near shore.
There are holes in it, it's being shot at. Tons of bullets are flying through the wood.
I'm running to the boat screaming. There's something I want inside but I don't know what it is.
The boat is in shallow water. I'm trudging through it as fast as I can.
I'm on the boat, people are crying and running.Who are these people? I don't know them.
I'm searching the rooms, dodging the bullets, not finding what I'm looking for.
This ship is a mess.
I'm leaning, sliding to the left and everything on the ship is too. I run outside. We're sinking and the left side is going under.
I'm screaming.
The wateris shallow, and I know I can jump off and walk to shore.
But I don't.
Why am I scared?
I'm going to die on this boat.
Everything is gone.
No screaming people.
No bullets flying past my head.
No sinking ship.
Just me and three people, floating in the water.
We're all alive.
There are two guys.
I wonder who they are?
There's a girl.
I recognize her.
I say something. I didn't even hear what I said.
One guy grabs my hair.
Pushes me under the water.
I'm struggling.
He's screaming at the girl.
He says he won't let me up, until she says he can.
I can't breathe.
I'm choking, swallowing huge gulps of water.
She puts her head in the water and tells me she's sorry.
I try to ask what she is sorry for, but I can't talk.
I talk with my eyes.
She understands.
She tells me she can't let him take me out of the water.
He screams.
This is the last chance.
Now or never.
I beg her to let me live.
She shakes her head and floats to the surface.
I'm awake. Sweating. My heart is racing and I'm breathing heavy. I eventually make it out of bed. I go on with myday, thinking about my nightmare. When night comes again, I fall asleep...
I'm on a brown ship.
Bulletts are flying past my head.
It's sinking,
now everything is gone.
It's just me and three people floating in the water.
Everyone is alive but me.
The fateful day has come, the one I’ve been dreading most. I have to sit politely and pretend everything’s okay when its not. The thought of this afternoon makes my stomach churn with agony. Every one of my fat greasy family members will be there. Italians are known as these fat happy people. But not me, Im not one of them. Looking at me you’d think I was all just loose skin and brittle bones but that’s not the way I feel. When I look into my mirror I criticize every little part of my body. I can feel every ounce of disgusting fat on my body. I will do anything possible to make it go away. I hate everything about myself.
We all sit around the table with so much food sitting around us. Everybody’s mouths are watering with the thought of eating it all. Mine is too with the thought of puking deep in the back of my mind. My stomach rumbles quietly wanting the juicy turkey that sits right in front of us. My stomach doesn’t know what it wants. My mom puts a plate of food that will soon be thrown up in front of me.
Mashed potatoes=174 calories
Stuffing=107
Turkey=98
Corn=83
And that’s just the bare minimal. I take everything on my plate and plow through it all every bite more delicious then the last. Before I know it everything on my plate is gone and my stomach craves for more. I get seconds and eat it before everyone else even gets the chance to finish their first plate. I look around the dining room to see what else I can devour before I change my mind. Pumpkin pie sits on the counter, the crust perfectly golden brown. As I take a deep breath I can smell everything. My stomach grumbles demanding more. Someone calls my name I look around and everyone’s eyes are piercing me with questions. I smile and say I was saving myself all day for this meal. Everyone smiles back and its over. I thought my secret was going to be found out. I excuse myself from the table. Its time to rewind all the work that I have just done.
Our five-year old mindsets burst out of our teenage bodies as
we prepare to corrupt the rain’s remains.
Only miniscule puddles in sight;
Distractions from the monstrous ones ahead.
Beckoning us, illuminating themselves with the sun’s reflections and
the slight start of foliage above; burgundy blurs in the mirrors of water.
We race through the November fog that envelopes the sidewalk,
Searching frantically for the slightest of puddles.
We stomp, water spitting on our faces.
Droplets mixed with remnants of dirt from between the gravel.
Our pruned toes kick murky water to our backs, tinting our white t-shirts with brown speckles.
Soon enough, we’re home.
A mile and a half of pure bliss, finished.
Our heavily soaked jeans saturate the kitchen floor.
We take in the disappointment of my mother’s eyes.
She doesn’t have to say a word in order to get her point across.
I guess it’s back to being mature young adults again
I feel empty inside. Almost like you could cut me open and the only thing that would happen is a huge gust of hot air whipping your hair back and stealing your breath. You know for a girl my size that’s going to be a lot of air. Looking around my room the feeling of loneliness swallows me whole.White and plain: my room is an insane asylum. Most girls my age rooms are filled with lovely memories. Pictures of themselves and friends running around with wide smiles and mouths open like they captured them in the middle of erupting in heartfelt laughter. In my house laughter doesn’t exist. Screams, cries, and whimpers live here. I wish I knew what it felt like to feel laughter creep up from the pit of your stomach for a full hardy laugh.That sound of laughter is a lot more appealing. My salty tears stream down my face soaking my pillow and few belonging that surround me. This is something that I’ve grown used to. The thought of happiness makes me even more empty knowing that I will never have that. I wish with everything that this would end.
by Britney Costa
The sheep wriggles under the shearer's steady hand, but his experience tells him just how to keep her still. She is propped up on her bottom, legs straight out, her plump belly drooping over her hips and thighs. She is relieved to have the strain of pregnancy taken from her back and she leans into the shepherd's legs. She is calm now, ready for the early spring shearing. An experienced mother.
The shearer move his blades skillfully over the belly, down the shoulders and hips, and finally across the back, pulling the thick winter wool off in one large sheet. He releases her to let her huddle with her bare flock. The sheet of wool is thrown onto the table where I stand, ready to pluck out the imperfections.
I plunge my stiff hands deep in the fleece, having only been off the body for seconds, and capture the warmth before it escapes into the cool, thin air. However, as I press my face into the soft blanket, wisps of steamy warmth slither out and up into the morning sky only lingering for a second, suspended, before they dance off.
My hands are sticky from the natural oils in the wool. It is cooling down quickly now and I am determined to pick it clean before the very last bit of heat disappears. Impatient cries from the sheep fill the barn until the last one is shorn. The sun rises and new warmth makes its way to my skin. Winter is gone, spring is here, and lambs are on the way.
by Jodi H
The field is alive with the darting and dashing of players that are trying to fight for one small ball that could define or destroy a team’s reputation on the spot. The glaring sun amplifies the deep green grass that constantly gets trampled by the spiked lacrosse cleats sprinting back and forth crushing and tearing up the grass, letting it fly through the air; all that remains are bare patches of dirt. There is a blur of colors ducking under one defender and spinning past the other. Now it is one-on-one with the opponent and the torn, dirt-stained net. Alas, there is one more hurdle between him, his team and the championships: me. My breath halts and everything slows down. I see the opposition bearing down on me trying to be intimidating with every ounce of his body. Then the moment comes, His body twists, putting everything he has behind that shot. When he finally shoots and my heart stops, I see nothing through the black bars of my helmet. I don’t follow the ball, I can’t follow it, the speed of his shot is undeterred and I just react, no thought, no knowing, just a reaction, quick and fluid snatching the small ball straight out of the air.
The winding road from Bath Maine to Hermit Island is a short one, but it feels like eternity. The fact that I only see this place once a year heightens the excitement so much that it practically radiates from me. When I see the entryway come into view, my breath stops. I get relived. I’m finally here. We pull into the dirt parking lot, and I step out and immediately bury my feet in the warm sand and breathe in the cool ocean air. As I look around the slight breeze slowly makes the island trees sway back and forth, reflecting the sun’s rays, making the green leaves even brighter. After the tedious task of setting up the tents and assembling campsite comforts, it is finally time to go to the beach. For the whole week all I do at the beach is sleep. I tilt my hat forward, put my hands behind my head, and feel the warm sand on my back. Once again I bury my feet right there. Periodically, I wade out into the bay letting the waves come crashing up against me as I just look out at the horizon waiting for the sun to go down. As it starts to get dark, I know that its time to watch the sunset. There is a rocky outcropping jettisoning off into the ocean, and campers gather at this spot as a family to watch the golden and fiery red rays of the burning sun get slowly smothered by the ocean’s cool blue waves. If I could live anywhere it would be here.
Pots and pans are the alarm clock: breakfast is soon. Rustling comes from within the tent as those who are inside prepare to start the day. A blanket of fog covers the lake that will be their highway in the upcoming hour. The cold, soaked clothes on the line wait in anticipation to torture the bare skin of those who are going to have to put them on.
The two people in the boat paddle in perfect synchronization. This repetitive mantra of physical labor, the mesmerizing swirls of water behind each stroke of the paddle, it puts them into a trance of the deepest thought. Their faces tell the stories of that which they ponder: their mistakes, their tragedies, their best of times, their future, those who they love. Paddling across a lake seems like an eternity to us, it isn’t long enough for them.
Bread, cheese, sausage: a simple lunch at the coast of the lake. White pines with thick weathered bark give them a luxurious backrest to relax on for a short while. Jokes, stories, laughs, they blend with the noise of the afternoon wind, the swoosh of the tree’s leaves brushing against each other, the crash of gentle waves against brittle stone. The food is all gone before they know it, a bitter tease to a full meal. Their smiles stay true.
A path that leads from one lake to the next; narrow and unbeaten, difficult and treacherous, beautiful and terrible. They start the path, cocky and confident. Soon they are humbled by the task they face. The weight of the load they carry tears their shoulders away without mercy. They trot with a wince hoping for this hell to end. When it seems as if this simple trail has gotten the better of them, the familiar glint of light on water catches their eye. Their focus snaps to edge of the water and new strength is found when before there was none. Dropping the load, a euphoric high of freedom is achieved.
For the first time in over half a day: warm clothes. Dry clothes. A full stomach for the first time since the night before. The sunset left a stain of gentle purple and vibrant orange blended like sorbet in the heavens, the paycheck of their work. They join around the fire one last time and watch the sparks join the stars. Five humbled men. A family.
Standing on the walk in front of my house, I watch metallic blurs whiz by.My dad is standing next me, and together we yell “SLOW-”
Flash
The car door slams shut.I can feel the seat belt against me, restraining me from moving around, just as the booster seat below me does.Sammy sits next to me.I turn to her, and she smiles.
Flash
Jolting upright in bed, the warm covers fall off of me.I look over at Thomas, who says to me “J.T., I don't need the rails on my bed anymore.Help me take them off” I agree and swing my legs out of my comfortable, warm bed.We carry the rails up to the attic, and then go back to sleep.
Flash
My parents and I walk into the school. Everything is new to me.This is a sort of orientation, I think.On a bulletin board, wooden cutouts in the form of bright red apples hang from ribbon.On each apple, written in black letters, is a name.I look for mine.It is not there.Only one that reads “James”My father takes it, and tells me that he will change it to read “J.T.”.
Flash
I look at John.“Three, two, one, GO!” We race down the blacktop at breakneck speed until-
Flash
My mom slows down as we get to the house.My friend is waiting on the steps.As wepull into the driveway, I look up.The sky is a truer blue than ever I had seen before.I go inside.
Flash
We play with the action figures.She asks if I want some Halloween candy.It is soon after Halloween.I say yes, and we walk into the kitchen.She gets a stool and pulls it up to the refrigerator.Standing up on the wobbling wooden stool, she grabs a basket off of the top of the refrigerator.She climbs down.We go to her room to eat it.
Flash
The end of the school year is here.We are moving soon, far away from here.Each member of our class gets handed a paperback yearbook.We sign each others.When we get to the page with the guinea pig, we go over to him and he bites a little bit out of his page, his equivalent of a signature.
Flash
I am standing outside of my new school, getting ready to lineup in order to go inside for my first day of school at this new place.I am upset, for I do not know anybody.Only now has it really dawned on me that I will no longer be going to school with my friends.I realize that all them are back in Westfield.My dad crouches down in front of me, and takes out a British ten-pound note.He was in London the day before.He gives it to me, and tells me that I can hold on to it for him.
Flash
I am back in John's house.I have not seen him since we moved.He is glad to see me.We walk to the end of the hallway to a traffic light and go into his room on the left.
Epilogue
It is now years later. I am on Facebook, sending out friend requests to some people I just met.Suddenly I remember something.Walking across my room, I retrieve a tattered note from a hidden place in my room.The writing of a seven-year-old reads:
“J.T., I hope you like your New home.I well miss you.Your frind John.”
I fold the note back up and return it to its place.
The rustle of the stale leaves beneath my feet is soothing. They fly up with every shuffle I take. Walking in the woods is pure serenity. The periwinkle blue sky is so clear, I feel like this is all my imagination. When I stop walking the sound ceases and all I can hear is nature. The uncontaminated stream rolls over the rocks, comforting me. On the banks of the stream is the lush vegetation that brushes me with a faint sense of welcome as I walk by. I hear the repetitive drumming of a woodpecker in the trees and the familiar noise of a creature in the bushes. There are not too many bugs this time a year, and for that I am grateful. Right now it is just me under the influence of Mother Nature. There is nothing else to be concerned about, which makes me feel like a child again.
Looking around, I take a mental snapshot of this tiny section of earth. But I do not save the file to my mind; I save it to my heart. As I glance around at the leaves, and the sky, and the stream, I undergo a sense of smallness. I am humbled. Is this more significant than me? Absolutely.
My feet leave the cliff and I am soaring through the air.For a brief moment the force of my leap propels me upward toward the sky before the earth regains its grasp on me and I start to fall.Time seems to slow down as I plummet towards the earth at what the recording will later show to be lighting fast speed.My body seems to realize all of a sudden that it has not stopped falling, and a rush of adrenaline sweeps through my body.
I hear the famed waves of Waimea bay crashing against the shore like thunder in a storm, and see the people diving into the waves.Surfers ride the waves in, and swimmers challenge the ocean in their own way by daring the waves to knock them off of their feet.
I look down and the turbulent waters of the Pacific lie below, waiting to welcome me into their midst.I can smell the saltiness of the air in my nose and taste it in my mouth.Across the water is the beach.Small colored bits stand out in sharp contrast against the tan sand.While I cannot see individual people, I know that my cousins are standing there, watching my fall.They have already challenged the cliff, and they have emerged from the watery depth below it in triumph.I watched them jump, watched them take a leap of faith, and that is why I jump now.Because I then had to.
I chose to abandon the solid feeling of ground under my feat, abandon the security that hard ground provided and let myself go, challenging the world to do its worst.
The exhilaration of jumping of off a cliff is incomparable.The adrenaline from falling creates a sense of euphoria, making me feel as though I could do anything.With the adrenaline, however, comes a feeling of fear that threatens to overpower me.Doubts cloud my mind, useless though they are at this late stage.I could be dashed against the rocks, I could be swept into the channel that goes under the cliff, I could get pulled out by the powerful undertow, I could drown.These questions pervade my thoughts as the adrenaline continues to course through my body.This is the feeling, I realize, that thrill seekers seek.The closeness to death, the feeling of danger.For, in truth, adrenaline is nothing more than the world’s most readily available drug.It is addictive.It is intoxicating.It is dangerous.But for better or worse, it must come to an end.I close my eyes and brace myself.
Piercing through the warm water, my feet hit the soft sand.The momentum carries me until I’m practically sitting on the ocean floor.I pause there for a moment, letting the water’s steady pulse wash over me before springing out my legs.I rocket to the surface and burst from the water.Looking around, I see the ocean, seemingly calmer than before I jumped.I look up, and the cliff seems smaller too.I swim in to shore, ready to do it again.
Timneat Mulu Comp.11 Ms. Walton Descriptive Essay One 10/5/10 Celebration Celebrating the New Years of Ethiopia is one of the most exciting , and heart warming event for Ethiopians, and foreigners. On September 12, 2010, Ethiopians celebrated 2003 new years! I celebrate my new year by going to the club with my family, and friends. The atmosphere is very hot, it makes it hard for one to sit and watch. Where People get up and dance till morning. The Ethiopian celebration is a color full event were Ethiopians are dressed in the beautiful traditional dresses that adorns different patterns in gold, and sliver threads that make the country artifact sparkle on the women outfits. The same goes for men. The women and girls are dressed from head to toe, with sparkly outfits, hair braided in the latest fashion, and gold or sliver jewelry that are the size of a quarter on their ears,and bracelets on their wrist, and rings that are the size of pennies or quarters. Also the mothers or elderly are wearing the gold pick comb on their heads, that show their beauty, and region. The men and boys are all groomed and handsome with their color full clothes that look brand new in black, brown, green, white, red, yellow, and pink shirts, and pants that are jeans, or suits. The Ethiopian flag is hanged by every wall of the clubs wall, its glowing with the green, yellow and red color of the mother land on a blessed and joyful day. The club smells of coffee, traditional wine, and the perfumes that mingle with cologne. Every one is dancing to the rhythm of the music playing. There is no shyness, you dance with strangers, and at the moment it feels like you have danced with group or person forever. The movements consist of moving the shoulders, and legs. Hearing the laughter, and singing in unison as soon as the music goes on. You hear people screaming as the singer comes on the stage. Every one rushes to make a huge circle where you dance with any one. Where family, friends or strangers present you with 50 birr, or 100 birr( Ethiopian currency) for dancing hard or for having fun. The songs keep changing that is hard to go take a rest, except dance all night. Making new friends and exchanging numbers, and dancing again, and again. When the clock reaches 12 at night every one bursts with congratulation, and words of Happy 2003, and happy year. Where one hugs, and kisses the other in happiness, even strangers hug, and kiss on the cheeks! Where the celebration starts again but on a new year.
