Descriptive essay Try Something New For Once..

Since I was young I never really liked trying anything new. I always thought that if I tried something new I wouldn’t like it. Whether it was trying a new food, going to a new place, or even meeting new people.  So what is it that made me go to Kirkwood Camp? I guess I have pretty persuasive friends. They had constantly been on my back and telling me how I should go to Camp Kirkwood with them. Well first let me tell you about Kirkwood. Well, at least this is how I viewed it before I actually got the courage to go. Kirkwood is a big camp out in the Poconos. Yeah I know what your thinking, the Poconos is pretty. Well this camp was located in the woods. When I think of the woods I cant help but think about bugs, trees, mud, spider webs and of course more bugs. Maybe even some type of animal. I had no intentions on going anywhere that I felt those things would be. Eventually I decided to just try something new, It had been a rainy day I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to turn around, get in the car and just go home. Overnight camp just wasn’t for me. I despised the thought of sleeping on cold barren ground, and what would I do with my hair. My mom said to me “Stop being such a prissy girly girl” And try something new for once. When the bus arrived every one threw their bags onto the back of the bus and rushed to find a seat. I straggled behind and turned to my mom she gave me a disappointed look so I smiled a fake type of smile and got onto the bus to sit next to my best friend. The bus pulled off The other campers sung songs and I sat their acting stubborn until I heard them start out one of my favorite group songs “Father Abraham” I joined along with them we all got so into the song disregarding the bus driver constantly telling us to sit down. I didn’t even notice the long ride and before I knew it we were pulling into the camp.  It didn’t look as bad as I thought. I had visioned a bunch of trees, no free space to play around, weird smells, and I didn’t think the type of people I usually hang with would be there. I stepped off the bus and I could feel the grass in between my toes. I could smell the fresh air. I never smelt air like this before I immediately began to get comfortable with the environment. The first thing we did was go to lunch I love food so I was happy to hear that. I walked into the crowded lunchroom and I saw so many kids of every race I love being in diverse environments. Before we ate we sung a prayer and ha cool hand motions to go along with the song. We all sat down together and began to sink our teeth into scrumptious sausage pizza. That’s when the weird thing happened I reached for the pitcher of juice and everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me as if I was something they never seen before. I said What They told me that I couldn’t have juice yet and that I had to drink water first. Ok I thought waters not a problem. I poured my water and started to drink until I noticed the unusual egg smell. I jerked my head back looking at it saying, what is this? I held my nose and downed the drink so I wouldn’t have to think about it. After lunch we headed to our cabins. I have to admit they were really cool each cabin had 8 beds and all of my friends and I shared a cabin it was the best. After getting settled into our cabin we went into our first activity. The cool thing was that my first activity was archery. I had never done it before so I was very excited they handed me the bow and my mind went blank. I had no idea what I was doing and then one of the councelors helped me out. The bow was very tight and it took all my strength I strained as I pulled it back then I was ready to let go. I shot the perfect bow and I had never been so amazed like this ever before. Everyone else went then It was time for praise n worship This was when I started to like the camp even more we sung a bunch of songs to the to of our lungs until they began to hurt for so long. I didn’t even notice my feet swelling up form all the walking and standing up I had done that day. The day still wasen’t over we did so much stuff I can’t even remember. We played lots of games and not one person there acted like they didn’t want to participate everyone played together and had an awesome time. After dinner it was time to call it a night we all rushed to our cabins and took showers washing all of the fun from the day off. Ten O-clock had been our bedtime but we never feel asleep we played tag with our flash lights disregarding how many times our councilor said we had to go to sleep because we wake up early. The next morning we all woke with bags under our eyes. We shook them right off after breakfast when we got right back into all our activities. Only today was swim test day. The place we swam was a nasty looking greenish colored pond. When standing in it you could feel seaweed and baby tadpoles graze your skin and it sent chills down your back because of the slimy unpleasant feeling. Pond time happened to be very fun as well everyone in the camp got to hang together and do what ever we wanted to do. The juniors, Jr. High, And senior high groups all got along very well. Our options for pond time was to swim, play volleyball, play in the sand, go fishing, try out canoeing, do arts and crafts or just chill out. It didn’t take me long to realize how much fun I had been having and it was only the second day of camp. Just imagine how awesome the next five days would be. Our group leaders had so many things planned for us to do and not a moment while I was there had I been bored. It started to become one of the best experiences of my life. As the days went by I couldn’t help but wish that time would just stop I didn’t want to go home not one bit. On my last night there we hiked up to real high ground and decided to sleep there for the night it was cold and my lip quivered but sleeping under the stars was so beautiful. When I woke up to my surprise not one bug was near me not even one of those pesky mosquitoes. I guess that is because I showered myself in bug repellant. The hike down was very steep and I was almost sure that I would fall. When we got back to our cabins they said we should pack up before the big dance and talent show we had in store for us. So that’s what we did. Us girls had suitcases stuffed with clothes so closing them was a problem. We had to jump up and down on them and sit on them putting all of our weight onto it. After Breakfast the next day It was time to leave we waited on the camp porch for our buses to arrive. When I got on the bus and it began to pull away we passed a sign saying Goodbye thank you for coming to Kirkwood a tear slid down my warm cheek. Then I finished reading it and it said see you next summer and that little line made me smile inside. Kirkwood changed me that summer it became a part of me that I will never forget and I regret ever having second thoughts about going.

Descriptive Essay: The Gift or Memory

I never cried at my grandmother’s funeral.  At the time I felt horribly guilty.  While so many others, including my dad, were in tears over the tragic loss, I simply stood there expressionless, trying to relate to the sadness everyone else seemed to be feeling.  It haunted me for years until I finally figured it out one year.  It wasn’t because I was emotionally devoid or simply didn’t care that she died, what was going on is that I had accepted that she was going to die a long time before she actually did.  I knew it was going to happen from the day she was put into Brandywine Senior Hospital.  I chose instead to focus on the good times we had, whether it was her living room excitedly shouting answers at game show competitors, eating rice pudding in the kitchen, looking for groundhog holes in the yard or taking wood shop lessons from my quiet but loving grandfather.

           I grew up around my grandparents, spending every Friday with them while my mom and dad were at rehearsals.  So they were a big part of raising me while I was growing up, and they cared for me as though I was their own child.  I remember one day when I was happily sitting in the kitchen of my grandparent’s house, eating Cheerios out of a plastic cup with a panda bear on it.  As I sat silently squishing Cheerios with my fingers, I somehow managed to get my elbow stuck between the rungs of the hardwood chair I was sitting in.  At first I dismissed it as a simple misplacement of a limb, but after several minutes of struggling to get unstuck, I got nothing accomplished but minor chafing and being more stuck.  I called out  for help,  Within seconds, my grandfather, Pop-Pop, came dashing into the room in a panic, almost skidding on the floor.  He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I told him I was stuck, laughing at my mistake and his panic in his friendly, deep chuckle.  He headed for the sink, smoothing his thin comb-over and pushing up his glasses as he calmly walked.  Once he was there, he grabbed a damp bar of soap and a good fistful of paper towels.  He ran the paper towel on the parts of the chair where my elbow wasn’t; calmly explaining every detail of what he was doing and why.  After ten minutes of more soap and towels, he finally got my elbow unstuck and we headed to the living room just in time for Wheel of Fortune.
           My grandfather was a very solemn man, but also very loving.  He sort of had this “macho man” mentality and made a great effort not to show emotion.  He showed love in his own little ways, often helping me with small tasks that in my youth I couldn’t do by myself, like getting a book off a high shelf or lifting a bag of blocks.  He was always very proud when I could finally do it myself. We also shared a common interest, toy trains. On rainy days we would set up elaborate mazes of Lionel train tracks that wound around the whole house or sometimes we’d go to a local train-themed restaurant called “Jimmy Johns”, where they sold the cheapest edible hot dogs known to man and had huge toy trains that went around the whole restaurant.
           When my grandfather died, I went into a sort of denial.  My childish mind kept finding pieces of evidence that could prove to my saddened family he was not actually dead, but simply asleep in the box.  Unlike my grandmother’s death, I wasn’t old enough to connect hi sickness to the fact that he was going to die.  I thought he was sick in the same way I got sick and would get better in a weeks time.  For three months I kept telling myself that.  It took me about a month to finally wrap my head around the fact that he was gone forever.
           My grandmother was a much softer person and even more quiet than my grandfather.  She was loving in her own warm way.  She showed her love through caring; much of my time spent at their house was in her lap.  She was also always the one to clean scrapes I got and cook special foods that my dad and I took time out of our day just to eat.
           When my grandmother died, I was ready.  Between the death of a few pets and another relative, I had learned what death was and how to accept it.  It still saddened me, but this time I also knew how to cope.  The trick was to look at it like the end of a movie.  The characters are still in your mind, you can always replay your favorite lines like a movie, but you’re still sad that its over.

Descriptive Essay: In What Do We Trust

By Sterling Perry:

English 2

                                                 In What Do We Trust?

            I was sitting in Mr. Block’s class thining of a topic to use for my essay. I honestly didn’t know what to write about. Mr. Block was talking about elements of a great essay and “hot words” as he calls them. I soon got bored, turned on itunes and began to jam and stop paying attention. All of a sudden I see him walking over as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. He says, “So, Sterling can you read your scene?” I read it and he says you know trust is the first thing I think about when I hear your scenes. I think to myself, “Wow that’s like the perfect topic to write on.”

The strobe lights flicker, vision blurred, adrenaline running high and my clique hanging tight. Dancing, sitting, eating, talking and repeating the process. Man, was that a crazy night.

After 6 days of fun in Florida we approach the last day; the day we all been waiting for. My cousin, two friends and I were wondering what we were going to do for the last day in Florida. My mom and dad comes in the room announcing what we’re going to do. “Everyone! We are going to Universal Studios; So get dressed and ready to go we are in a hurry!” We rushed through our bags looking the freshest outfits we had and got dressed. I wore a Dark grey T-shirt with a lime green smiley face, my skinny jeans, a grey OBEY snapback and a pair of all black and lime green Jordans.

 

Ready to go we headed to the car where we soon fell asleep. “We’re here every one!” Anxious to see what was in store we hopped out the whip and ran into the park. Our first ride was harry potter. The line was so long my cousin Eric and I decide to talk to a couple attractive girls who were standing behind us. After a long conversation about nothing and exchanging numbers they handed us a flyer. “Come meet us at The Groove tonite it’s the hottest club in Orlando you have to be 16 and up” one of the girls said, “It’s from 10pm to 2am.” “Ok, sure we’ll be there” I said and we got on the ride. After riding a countless number of rides, chicken wings and slushees we were done for the day.

           Despite of a great night there was one problem. We forgot to ask about the club. We were on our way out the gates when my dad looks side to side and asked “ Isn’t there a teen club somewhere in this park?” I responded, “Yea, is it okay if we go tonight?” “Sure but be back at 2am” my dad said.

            We made our way to the club ready to see the girls we met in a line for the harry potter ride. The bass was bumping so loud it shook the ground…outside of the club. We brought our tickets and made our way in. All I remember after that was dancing, slurred talking and strobe lights. What exactly happened in the club? I’m just as confused as you are. We limped to the car, laughed and fell asleep. It was there were i realized the true meaning of being high off life.

            What does a club and some girls have to do with trust? Well, we don’t often realize how important it is to be trusted. If my dad didn’t trust me he wouldn’t have let me go to the club (or anywhere else) and I wouldn’t have that amazing story to tell. In the long run without the story I wouldn’t be writing about trust. I would be writing about something else boring like algebra or something.

            In every essay or paper your teachers always say use the who, what, when, where method. So, why not start now? What is trust how do I define it? I think it’s having faith in someone or something to come through for you. Who should we trust? Obviously people who are there for you friends and family. The sad thing is that some family and friends can’t be trusted. When you really think about the word trust I’m sure, like me, you can recall many life situations. On that note why not share another of my experiences.

The clock winding down and the rivalry and tension is in the atmosphere. This game was anticipated and waited for all season. The crowd was going wild, signs were raised and trash was definately talked.
           

It was like a moment from a basketball movie. The game was close and my team was expected to loose. The opposing Bulls had a team of superstars but my team stood strong.
First though third quarter was a blur. All i could remember was the fourth quarter. After a few more long minutes the game came down to one moment.

            The game was tied and i had the ball coming up the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I see the crowd going wild as my heart beats faster. Twenty seconds left “Isolation isolation!” i call as I stand at half court. 10, 9, 8 and down it goes. Behind the back into a slick spin move, shoot the jumpshot and....BOING! I missed the shot to win the chip. My team mate Greg snags the ball and throws it up with 3 seconds left and makes it. We all go crazy and the crowd runs on the court.
Even though we won i still felt that i should have trusted my team more.

            That brings us to another topic which I really don’t like talking about. Don’t worry though I’m not going off to something completely irrelevant. This topic I will be talking about is trust issues. Now don’t get me wrong, just because I didn’t pass the ball means I have trust issues. Trust issues, is also song by a famous rapper/r & b singer, but nothing more. Trust issues is more of a fad than it is a problem now. It’s also used as an excuse for many things. For example, i ask out a girl who I know likes me. She obviously isn’t ready for a relationship but likes me and doesn’t want my feelings hurt. So what does she say? I’m sorry but I can’t go out with you, I have serious trust issues but maybe we can take our relationship farther another time. My facial expression says “It’s cool” but inside I’m saying, “That was the worst excuse ever! Just say no and be done with it.” I’m tired of that same excuse being used over and over again. Like everything else in life teens miss interpret it and turn horrible things into stupid fads.

Descriptive Essay: Friends and Family

Sarah Charlotte Brown

English 2


Friends and Family are some of the most important people in someones life because they will always be there for you. There are so many different memories that I have and there is one special item that reminds me of them all. Its a photo in my kitchen and its right by the kitchen table.

The photo is of something very unusual. Its of a bagel garden. In the right top corner of the picture there is a bit of light gray side walk right along a black wrought iron fence. The fence covers the top of the artwork as well. The whole way along the inside of the fence, there square shaped shrubs, which are about half the height of the fence. Beside the row of shrubs on the right side, there is a small path made of the kind of gravel you would put in a fish tank. The gravel has a tiny bit of a purple color. The path turns left at the bottom of the picture and continues along the bottom. On the path there are two rows of bagels on the ground. The bagels are plain. In all there are about twenty-four bagels that are visible in the picture.

In the section that would be the middle of the garden, but what takes up about half of the left side of the picture is more shrubs. These shrubs are made to form the outline of a square flower bed. The inside of the square formed with shrubs is filled with dirt. Planted in the dirt are little pink flower plants. They look like mini circle bushes with little pink flowers at the top. There are twenty-two flowers visible. The pink is a light pink.

It was this photo that, when I looked at it, gave me all the memories of family and friends back. I don’t spend way to much time in my kitchen, but seeing this photo reminded me of a time that I had a lot of fun.

The room smelled like nail polish, spa supplies, and lotion. I was having a spa sleepover birthday party type of thing. We were in my kitchen doing manicures. I had my feet in a foot bath. The bubbles swarming around. My friends were doing a 1 minute manicure scrub in the sink. It smelled like passion fruit. While my feet were soaking, one of my other friends was doing my fingernails. The sound of running water, laughing, along with a mixture of crickets from outside filled the room. Soon I had hands under the running water. I was using the manicure scrub. It was bright orange. It was a mixture of gooey and gritty. As I scrubbed my hands I laughed with my friends and realized how much fun I was having. It was the best birthday party I had ever had.

When I remembered this story, it helped me realize that my friends are some of the most important people in my life. I also realized that I had some of the best friends in the world. They are always there for me. I think that during that night, I laughed more than ever before. 

My mom was just finishing up dinner. I was excited. I started jumping up and down, almost bouncing, like a rubber band ball. 

“Settle down, its almost done.” my mom said.

I was a little kid, and my mom was making my favorite dish for dinner. I could smell it baking in the oven. It was tuna casserole and it smelled like tuna, but not in a bad way. My mom started to serve it. I could hear the dishes clanking together as she took them over to the kitchen table.

“Yum, tuna casserole.” My dad said as he sat down.

I sat down in my spot next to my dad. As I was eating and savoring the taste in my mouth, I looked around. I realized that the reflection of the fork on the wall was a tiny bit of light. I thought of a fairy. 

“Mommy, daddy, look. It looks like a fairy!” I said to my parents in a high-pitched mouse-like voice. 

I started playing with the reflection on the wall. That became a normal dinner thing when I was little.

I hadn’t thought about those times at dinner when I was little for a long time. By remembering it, I realized how important family was. I always knew they were important but I never really noticed how much. They mean so much to me. They are the people who will always be on your side no matter what happens. I will never forget that fairy, or any of the other memories of my family because they are so important to me. 

Friends and family have their similarities and differences. But they both have one similarity that outweighs all the differences put together. They will always be there for you. Its always nice to feel like you belong and to feel accepted and if there is ever a time when you don’t feel these things, you know theres a place to go. That photo of the bagel garden was only a photo to me in the past, but now I know it has a lot more meaning to it. I never think I will look at the quite same way again.


Descriptive Essay-Dance

“Okay ladies, time for class. Get into your positions. Ready, first position…second position….third position.” The teacher just goes on and on and on. I was never late, always on time. I was the one who really was cool with a lot of people. I was always a part of the crowd that was social we were all stretching and hoping to relax before practice started. Bars are surrounding the perimeter of the rooms and bright clear mirrors around the whole studio. To be a dancer, it takes a lot of endurance, strength, and commitment. I need to use my legs, arms, and abdomen. In order for I to do that, they need to be strong enough. For some people, it can be a way to express your feelings or just do it, just to do it. Additionally, it can be a very good work out and keep you in shape. Taking ballet when I was little was fun. I would dance around at Philadanco in West Philly with my godsisters.

It was a couple years ago. I hop out the car and rush into the studio. Everyone is in their bodysuits and tights. Before everything starts, we are all stretching and talking among ourselves. Then the instructor comes in, “Hello girls, time for class!” Everyone gets up and is ready. Feet and arms move together in the five basic positions.  I’m moving to the rhythm of the music. “Run run run run, JUMP!” says the instructor. It has been a hour in a half practicing our moves, then we take a break. There are so many conversations going on at once. All the chattering from my peers talking about different topics. Then all conversations stop. It was sounded like we were in a library and no one was to make a sound. Shhhh, someone new comes in. No one knows her but me. Long hair, glasses, and tall. I stand there in amazement wondering why she’s there. I knew dancing was in her but I never knew she would want to do it.. Whether it was ballet, tap, hip-hop. Well, I’m not too sure about the tap dancing. I make her comfortable and introduce her to everyone. She’s pretty good. First position, second position and it keeps going on and on. Never ending. She makes friends quick and blends in but is a stand out. “Demi plié everyone”, says the teacher. Tick tock. The clock is moving by fast. Now it’s coming towards the end of the day and yes, I am very tired. The soles of my shoes are worn out. The long, thick straps leaving a mark around my legs. I think it’s time to go home. Hopefully, the new girl enjoyed her first day. Well, she did cause that new girl was me!

 That day was so much fun. For me, it was kind of nerve reckoning with all of the stares and looks only because I was new, but it all paid off well in the end. After walking in the studio for the first time, I immediately fell in love with it. The moves, the posture, and the technique of it all.

Okay, so now let’s move forwards some years. It’s been a long time since I have danced. Whether it was ballet, hip-hop, or whatever. Yeah, I might go on and dance with my friends at church or when we’re all at home just dancing for fun! I see people on T.V. moving to the beat. Whether the beat was slow or fast. It was years ago and now I’m feeling that I should do it again, along with other things. Every time I go out with my mom to the super market, or to the mall with my friends, I always end up dancing, and most of the time, there’s no music playing. My mom always tells me, “Raeven, I’m going to you back into a dance school.” I always blew it off but now that she’s said so many times, I think I would really like to do it. When she’s not home, I will always put on some music and learn the dances of different music videos …well, not study them, but just look at them and see how precise the dancers are with their moves.

It had been a while since I’ve danced. I have always loved doing it. Whether it was hip-hop or ballet. Sometimes, I do it because it can can be a way to express myself and it’s just fun. Now that I am older, I would like to get back into doing it and really becoming committed to it.

 

 

 

 

Laughter And Relaxation

There’s a picture hung up in my dining room. The sky is slightly cloudy yet light blue and it looks like the sun is setting. There are a few opaque clouds letting the sun shine a radiant orange, but the sun is painted white. Below the sun, in the background of the picture are distant blue mountains. They seem small because in the front of the picture are houses blocking the right side of the mountains.

They are old multi-colored wooden houses standing on an actual dock. Both houses are wide in the front and slim on the side. The house farther away is very small and has 2 windows on the front, right below a brown roof and 1 on the side of the house. The body of the house is painted white but has aged, so it’s a dirtier white and almost tan. The house which is closer to the front is taller, by almost half of the smaller house. The roof of this house is painted the same color as the middle of the mountains, a light blue, and the body is painted the same as the smaller house, which is white.

From the bottom of the mountains to the bottom of the picture, is calm water. The water has a beautiful color to it due to the sunset spectrum. There are 2 sailboats parked at the dock and the water behind them is a sea blue because it’s the shadow of the boats. They are rather old and look like they have been there for a long time because there is a lot of bird poop on them. The wooden sails on both of the boats stand taller than the blue-roofed house, and the colors of the boats are dirty white also.

In the lower left-hand corner of the picture is a small island-like dock to park boats. It is  made out of grey rocks and 3 short wooden tree logs coming out of the ground to tie the rope of the boat on. This picture is like a glance of vacation to somewhere far away from home, so relaxing.

I love when the funniest things come unexpectedly. My friends, Ben, Andrew, and I were all in my dining room making our own video series that we brilliantly thought of to upload on YouTube. The videos were based on a class setting, and students making up funny excuses on why they didn’t do or forgot to do their homework. We would do this almost every other day when we would get enough excuses to put in a video. Although, today was different, my friends forgot their list of excuses at home so we decided to record a different kind of video. Not to be racist, but since Ben was Asian we wanted to make a random kung-fu fighting episode. Ben and Andrew take out all their stuff from their pockets and set them on a table. Andrew, by the way, is taller and bigger than Ben by about seventy pounds and eight inches. To tell you the truth I didn’t know what was going to happen, it was all improvised and not even thought out. Seconds later, the fight started… Andrew leaned in for an attack, but Ben’s quick senses stopped and countered the slow attack with a swift 360 degree spin to his left and BACKHANDED Andrew to the light-colored hardwood floor where he got knocked out! All it took him was one move to take down someone way bigger than him! And I got it all on camera! It was a funny day, and Andrew woke up about 10 minutes later.

The most boring English class I’ve ever been in. In eighth grade our teacher, Ms. Parks, made us read a really long story in the old torn up textbooks we had. That was normal for us, but what made it boring was the whole room being quiet except hearing classmates read aloud in monotone, messing up words, and reading unusually slow. Half the class was asleep and I was almost there. Out of nowhere, I began to think to myself about anything and everything. Where then I thought about a dog eating homework and how I hear that in movies all the time. It finally hit me; I started thinking of ironic and hilarious excuses that nobody ever thought of. I wanted to introduce the idea so badly. “Ben!” I screamed quietly. “Yeah?” he asked.

“You want to make some YouTube videos?”

“About what?”

           “We should make up funny excuses for why we didn’t do our homework”
           “…That’s genius!”

From there we planned meetings and had a goal to make a total of 101 excuses. That’s how we came up with the name “101 Excuses For Not Doing Our Homework”. It’s a simple title but we all agreed on it. We also asked around the school if they wanted to be a part of the “classroom”. We didn’t really get much people and we never reached our goal. Although, we had so much fun doing this, and it gave every boring class something for us to do when we finished our work!

These are just some of the great times my friends and I making a YouTube video series. They are connected because they both happened 2 weeks apart, and without making the series the backhand would’ve never happened. I remember when almost everyone in my school knew about our series and they liked it, and when I showed the kung-fu video to my friends and my teacher at school they all laughed hysterically.

I guess we stopped because summer was over and we didn’t see each other as often as we went our own ways to different high schools. Ninth grade past by, and now we’re both in tenth grade, I still wonder when we’re going to get together again, we had a goal... Goals should be achieved, and in life everyone should have laughter and relaxation.

Descriptive Essay: Middle School

Middle school years are in your memory for a long time, especially the good times. All the friends you watched grow up become your family. From the day I started 1st grade, to the day I graduated Green Woods Charter School, has been an amazing adventure. My friends, teachers, and my parents helped me get through the good and difficult times of the unique school.

My favorite classes varied throughout the years, but it was never math! Science classes were the most interesting. Throughout the years, we went on many hikes on the trails and explored wildlife. We were able to interact with what we were learning, which gave us a different opportunity then most kids. Our usual walks through the leafy pathways, up and down hills, trees above shading us, carrying our clipboards, seeing deer trotting through the woods, dodging all the trees, having annual tick checks, and carrying clipboards was annoying then, but now I always think how lucky I was to be able to do those kinds of activities.

Most of my other favorite memories took place during art class. When you walk into the grand room, you see the tall bookshelves taking over the right walls. Above them were famous drawings by various artists. I smelled clay, glue and paint all mixed together. When you sit down in the tiny paint stained tables, our teacher Ms. Mail would begin teaching different techniques and or skills. Her gold leaf earrings would dangle from her ears as she walked around the classroom helping us get inspired. Sometimes the projects were related to some of our classes, and others were about us.

One of my favorite projects was making animal masks. Each of us had to think of an animal that we would want to create. We looked through books to get the sense of the animals, and from there on, it took several weeks to make it all happen.

Sitting lonely in my bright, empty kitchen, licking the peanut butter off my face from my snack, I open the laptop to surf the web. The clock ticks and it was 3:45pm. I heard the garage door open and the jingle of my mom’s work badge. She walked in the door from her day shift at work.

“Hey Karly, how was your day,” she asked with a smile.

“Usual,” I responded.

“That’s good. Karly! What did I tell you? After you’re finished eating, put your plate in the dishwasher,” she exclaimed.

“Sorry, here I got it.”

Scooting my chair out from under the table breaks the silence. I skip to the dishwasher. Thunk! My butterfly mask I made in 6th grade had fallen off the corkboard. “Man this thing is old,” I mumbled to myself.

                 My mind traveled back into 6th grade. It was art class, and it was one of the final weeks of making the masks. I had just finished painting the base of the mask. The aroma of the paint base filled my nostrils with a chemical smell. I try to ignore it, and ask my art teacher where the paint is. She points me to the direction of the blue metal drawers. I open the 3rd one. Many different colors were organized so neatly it was hard to choose. I picked the colors that I thought would be good for a somewhat realistic butterfly. Walking back to the table, glancing over at other’s people’s work, I was hoping mine would turn out well. I began painting the wings of the mask gold. I turned off everything else around me, and time flew by. Looking across the room and seeing that everyone was packing up, I put my butterfly on the drying rack. Finally, I was done.

                 “Come on Karly, let’s go do the laundry.” Mom’s voice brought me back to kitchen, out of my flashback. I placed the mask back on the corkboard, and went to help.

Art class always inspired me throughout the years, and I still have most of the artwork I made hanging around the house. Throughout all the years at Green Woods, eighth grade was the one that was most special to me. Towards the beginning of the year, we were all just excited to be heading off to high school in a few months. We all thought it was nice to be the oldest in the school. It was all fun and games until the high school preparation came along. Weeks went by, sitting in our homeroom looking at all sorts of high schools. Our counselor took us through the long process. Waiting patiently for our acceptance letters. Months went by, and most of us were still gnawing on our nails waiting patiently for the replies. Science Leadership was my first choice. This past year they had their first graduating class, so there was over a thousand applications. It seemed as though I was the only one without a letter. The day finally came.

It was last after lunch; we were in science class taking notes. The classroom was pretty quiet, except for a few coughs here and there. Then, the front door broke the silence. It was one of the teachers from the front desk with an envelope in her hand. She said the letter was for me, so I hopped out of my chair and darted over. Ms. Geist told me I couldn’t open it until class was over. My eyes were glued to the letter the rest of the class.

“Class is over,” Ms. Geist shouted, “See you tomorrow!”

Struggling to pack up my books, I tried to hurry out of there to open the letter. Tearing it open, not caring about a thing, I saw the 2 words that made my heart stop. Waiting list. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Two of my other friends got accepted right away. What did I do wrong? I thought to myself. Was I too nervous at the interview? I created a whole new project about my pet! At that point, I had no confidence in myself and I starting to feel down. This was the only school I had really wanted to go to. After a few hours, I decided to let go of it, and relax.

Months went by. It was now April and all the middle school students were boarding the huge yellow buses to go to our Earth Day field trip at Temple. I just walked on the bus and sat down. As I was pulling out my music, Ms. Wallace, the principal stepped on and told me to step off. Hoping I wasn’t in trouble, I got up and followed her out to the blacktop.

“Someone’s on the phone for you.” She said with a smile.

Looking confused, I picked it up. It was Mr. Lehman from Science Leadership Academy. He said he wanted me to attend SLA in the fall. At that moment I felt more special then anyone else. I was more then excited to get accepted into that school.

Next thing I know, it’s already graduation day. It was extra fun because we didn’t go to school. I had got my dress on sale for twenty dollars at JCPenney. It was a silver halter dress with a diamond as the belt. I was excited, but more nervous to be the first one to walk out the door.

The doors opened. There I was, standing in front of all my family members, minutes away from graduating middle school. Holding the bright red rose tightly in my clammy hands, I take my first step down the deep red carpet. The music makes the moment even harder to take in. My eyes met my Mom’s. I hand her the rose and hug her tight. “Thank you,” She mumbled softly into my ear. My eyes started to water, but I managed to hold it in until I got to my assigned seat. One by one, each of my former classmates made their way down the aisle. I try my best to hold back my emotions I didn’t expect. Being first for everything, it was time for my diploma. Tripping towards my teachers in my new heels, I hugged my vice principal first, then got the diploma from my principal. The black frame with fancy writing and our class picture inside made me feel like a made a huge accomplishment. I held it up in the air smiling. Flashes went off, all I could hear is clapping. I was ecstatic. Middle school is finally over with.

            Over the years at Greenwoods, I had an amazing, unique experience. Throughout all my classes, all the hikes, up until my graduation, it will be in my mind for many years to come.

Descriptive Essay: Burden of Memories

Vannary Kom

September 15, 2011

Iron stream, B band


                      Descriptive Essay

                   Burden of Memories


When you transfer to a new school, you usually feel stuck up. I had experience this twice. The time I had transferred to a new Elementary school and when I had entered high school. It’s pretty hectic when you’re at a new school. Its like you have to experience and go through the steps all over again.


“Ring Ring Ring!”  The sound of the alarm clock had screeched in my ears. I woke up with a devastated mood to turn it off. There I went, reaching for the door knob sighing in disbelief, “First day of school...” I walked into the washroom and stared in the mirror for several minutes. One litre of tears. I was unable to hold back the silent tears. It dripped silently down one cheek. I suddenly said to myself, “It shouldn’t be that bad. I’ll get through this first day.” I wiped off my tears and got dressed. Forty minutes later,  I went downstairs to put on my shoes. My dad came down and asked if I was ready. My mind went completely blanked. Dark clouds fell over me and I could hear voices screaming in my head.  

“Hey! Are you ready to go to school?”  

He asked again. I jumped and had woken up from an unusual nightmare I had pictured. 

“Yes, I’m ready dad,” 

I said nervously as I got up. Here I go again, turning the door knob. I opened the door and stepped out as the door had closed behind me. One block away till I reached my destination to a new learning environment.

I had transferred to a new Elementary school, entering fourth grade. I remember clearly standing in front of the classroom full of unknown faces on the first day. A lady with thick body, blonde highlights, with glasses came and introduced herself. 

“Hi, I’m Mrs. Mesi and I will be your teacher for the year. Nice to meet you. Come in and introduce yourself to the class.”  

I stepped in the classroom and stood beside my new teacher.  I stood there biting onto my lips as she told the students to quiet down. The room became dead silent. Now, all eyes on me. I stood there panicking. My chest felt like it was caving in with extreme discomfort and pain. I felt like I was receiving death stares from each person. I tried to speak up, but words kept blocking my mouth. Here I go again, 

“Hi everyone...My name is Vannary.” 

There, I said it. The whole class became severely dead. I was drenched in drips of boiling sweats. My teacher then escorted me to my seat. I sat with two boys in my tables who think they were tough enough to fit in the “hood.” I felt as if my back were against the wall. Everyone in class burst into rowdy laughters and joked around. I was extremely quiet. Blood started rushing through my veins causing inside of me a great pain. I was in my own little corner getting caught up in my own day dreams. Several days, weeks, months, and years later, I had gotten used to the school system. I knew more faces than I ever did when I first came to this school. I opened up to people and had became close to them. I felt more accepted than ever. By eighth grade, I had a group of friends who I considered as my “Best Friends.” They were always there for me through thick and thin. 


By the end of eighth grade year, I had made a creative piece of art. I picked out this special hard cover piece of art that means a lot to me. There are colorful polka dots decorations on the front cover that reads, “Somewhere In Our Lifetimes” in rhinestone letters. Each pages inside consists full burden of memories. Flipping through  these pages each time brings back nostalgic memories. I always kept in a drawer, where no dust can ever land on the surface of this marvelous scrap book. This scrap book consists of black and white printed snapshots with written summaries. This symbolized the adventures my friends and I had explored and the memories we had captured. Every adventure we had, every snapshots we took. I did this to fill the pages with flashbacks of my friends and I and what we did in Elementary/Middle school. One of my favorite pictures would have to be a photo booth that was taken at the movie theater. There it was, five of us girls ganging up on each other to fit inside the minuscule seat at the photo booth section. One, two, three! SNAP! Capturing our foolish and horrendous faces as we tried so hard to stay in place and not burst into laughers. The pictures were something to look back at. Five of us, on a girls day out adventure. This piece of art work will engrave all the memories we created. 


As I stepped into this building on the very first day as a high school student, I felt as if was experiencing my life in Elementary school all over again. There were teachers, unfamiliar faces passing through the hallways, a different learning environment, in this new school of SLA. I felt as if my life was in crisis again. It was hard to move on from those awesome times I endured. It was burdensome when I had to approach these new faces at this new school. This reminds me of the Elementary school I had transferred to Elementary. I had to go through every single step I had already did all over again.  

Descriptive Essay: Getting over fears

Sara Nesbitt

Iron Stream

Getting over your fears.

Everyone has a negative mind about something. We all do. We have fear, anxiety, and struggle towards things. That’s what makes us human. But we have to learn how to take that fear and turn it into something we are brave about facing.

Art was always something I didn’t truly understand, but always had curiosity for. I never thought I was good at art. I would fear art class because I didn’t have the confidence within myself. But then I learned that life is full of unexpected moments, and we should just go with it. I started to not fear, but to stand up to the things I wasn’t comfortable with, and go out of my safety zone. I ended up loving art. One time I was taken completely off guard when I did a project that I didn’t want to do, but ended up enjoying it.

It was 8:15am on a Wednesday morning and I woke up anxious to what we would do today. I arose, brush my teeth, put on the clothes I picked out the night before, and took a quick glance at the mirror, not thinking twice about what I looked like. I was too eager to go to school, but not for art class that was first period. I rush into the classroom, passing the morning chatter, heading straight to the stool with my name on it. Ring Ring. “Good morning class, I’m very excited for the assignment we’re doing today.” My mind then jumping to the array of projects we could possibly do. Drawing still life? Going outside and painting? “In front of you, there is a small black bag, in it is clay. You will be making whatever I say to, without looking at it.” My jaw dropped, this is so stupid I thought. We started the project, and it was strange. Not being able to see what you were doing gave you a whole new perspective on art and how to interpret it. The warm clay, soft but fragile in your hands, as you change it into different pictures you realize different views of art. I thought too much on what my peers might think, and it made me scared that I had to try something new. But going through the process, really not knowing that I could see my creation gave me confidence because I had nothing to worry about. It was supposed to be a fun project that reminds you not to take everything seriously, and if your having fun what your doing you will turn out with amazing results. By the end of class, I was in love with this assignment. It taught me to be patient and to never give up on your work, to always listen and go along with different things. And lastly, to always recognize the views of other people.

Art can resemble many other life situations. A lot of times we are so caught up in something, and if it gets ruined we’re devastated. But to me, that’s why we make mistakes, to learn from them and to make the second time even better than the first. I remember one time I worked all year on a painting, and then only had a few hours to make another. But, in the end I was happy I did it, because it was better than I ever imagined.

I wobble as I walk through the door, my book bag taking up my left shoulder, and my equipment bag taking up the right. As I finally get in I drop the things on the floor, my eyes droopy and my back slouched over from the tiring day. When I walked over to grab a snack, a slow smile started to take up my face. My mom hung up my painting, the one I worked all year on, I was so proud.

I remember it. Last Thursday, wait maybe Tuesday? No, Thursday. I went in the art room at 1:30pm. The atmosphere was loud. Chatter, stools screeching, paint splatter, brushes falling, it was a mess. I put my orange, black, and red paint on a pallet with a big fluffy brush and walk over to my canvas. “Hey Sara, come here I got to tell you something.” My art teacher said slowly with a worried look on her face. “Sure” I say shaky, not knowing what was going to happen. “Rachel spilled water on your painting, I’m sorry but it got ruined.” The room suddenly started spinning, my heart, every beat was faster and louder. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow. I was very silent for what seemed like forever, but was only a few minutes. My head was full of anger, frustration, and failure. “Umm, Uhh” were the only things I could get out. My teacher let me work in the backroom because I had to start over, and it would give me some quiet.

I worked there for over 6 hours. Painting, repainting, drawing, critiquing, moving, sliding, everything.

And there it was, completed. It was actually better than I ever imagined. Seeing it on my wall in my house made it even better. All my work had finally paid off.

It’s very hard to get over fear. But once you do, your entire world is open to new experience with great opportunities. Art is like a clean slate, and you can create anything within your imagination and yourself. This reminds me of coming to SLA for the first time. It was first day of freshman year. I was a tiny little freshman that people mistaken for a shadow, I didn’t know anyone. I walked in, looked around, and only talked when I needed to. But when I went into the bathroom I met this tall blonde girl that hated Justin Bieber. Excitedly, we never left each other’s side the entire day. Luckily, I was blessed with a best friend from the start. Friends can always help you get over fears. She has helped me so much from the first day, to projects, to random things I have to get over. Good friends are always there for you and can help so much with your fears and once you overcome them, nothing can stop you from being the best you can be.

Descriptive Essay: A Guitarist's Passion

Anthony Buchanico

Iron Stream

A Guitarist's Passion

 They say everybody in life has a passion. And if you don’t you simply haven’t found it yet. For those that haven’t, I highly suggest going on a venture to find it for the betterment of your life. My passion has been guitar for quite a while, and even though I’m not the best at it, I continue to aim higher and higher as my practice continues. And if you haven’t found a passion yet, well maybe guitar can be yours as well!

Having a passion can help in a number of ways. In my case, it not only gives me something to do, but something to strive to be better at as well as relieve stress, and get away from daily life. The possibilities of what you can learn or create are practically endless and show no signs of dwindling. Of course, it’s not always so simple finding something one could love to such an intense amount.

The first time I had picked up a guitar was when I was 8 years of age. After listening more and more guitar in the world my interest sprouted enough for me to walk up to my parents and say, “Mom, Dad, I want to play the guitar!” They liked the idea of me taking an interest in music, so within the week my dad took me to the only small music shop around the neighborhood and there I purchased my first and only acoustic guitar so far, A Jasmine, by the name Takamine.  It was a cheap guitar, brown body, black pick guard and lining, and an illustrious fret board. Of course back then I didn’t understand much about what makes a good guitar just that, but I didn’t care I finally had a guitar!

            I Started playing more and more through the days I had it, but no matter how much I practiced I just wasn’t getting anywhere with playing. After realizing this, my parents decided it was time for me to get some guitar lessons. With a quick search we found a local teacher who would hopefully show me where to go. Of course being a young kid around the time, I had no patience and just wanted to start rocking out riffs left and right. Sadly it wasn’t that simple. Contradicting my previous statement, I had an idea of what I wanted to learn, but as with many things, they never go as planned. My teacher was a very “classical” type of teacher. She stuck to the simple form of learning jingle bells and spending a month and a half on the G note. After about 3 months I looked at my past lessons and it hit me  “What am I doing?”  “This isn’t what I wanted at all.”

            After some discussion, I left her teachings and slowly faded away from guitar. I thought I was done with it; after all it was just some old hobby I picked up. So I put my jasmine down in the corner to collect dust for the next couple of years. I thought I was done, the end of just another short chapter in the book of life. But just like a book, you never know what’s on the next page until your there.

            I was 12 and like most twelve year olds all the days were boring and repetitive; Video Games, food and the Internet. I badly needed a hobby, my parents agreed.

“Hmm, what do we have around this house? I need something good.”

I thought to myself with no idea about what to do. Just then I started hearing piano. It was my sister playing again; she’s an amazing pianist! It seems so easy for her.

And then it hit me, I had an instrument, granted that instrument was now a pile of dust in my room it was an instrument. So I hoped up and waltz my way up to the familiar blue and orange walled safe zone I called a bedroom. I looked at the guitar and with a smile on my face thought, “Let’s try this again.”

From then on out I slowly started getting back into it; I practiced more and more, this time progress slightly quicker than last time. Now I was twelve and about to be 13, a teenager! My birthday was coming up and I knew exactly what I wanted, my first electric guitar. So my birthday came, and I got what I wanted, well almost anyway. Being a young kid I assumed I’d be able to just waltz right in and pick out the nearest multi-thousand dollar guitar. I wound up settling for a beginners pack, I was a beginner after all.

Months went by and even though the guitar wasn’t the nicest sounding it got me by. After a while I had the desire to save for a better guitar. Luckily for me I had a little friend named Christmas coming up. I’ll never forget that Christmas morning when I awoke to find a guitar under the Christmas tree. On the cold and silence of the Christmas Eve night my family and I drove home from South Philadelphia after the annual visit and dinner with my grandparents and the rest of our grand family. As we were driving home on the endless road I could sense the thoughts in the air and interest of what my two younger brothers, my older sister and my self would all receive for the amazing holiday of Christmas. About 45 minutes form departure; we finally arrived to the familiar haven we all call home. After the usual tradition of exchanging gifts between the families we all headed off to our rooms ready as ever to receive gifts and everything on the side. No matter how bad of a sleeper I am, Christmas always manages to be the exception with me quickly falling asleep like a sound child each and every time. My eyes shut, and in the feeling of a blink I was back up with 2 familiar faces in my vision.

            “Wake up Ant!”
                        “Santa Came!”

In the early morning confusion, I almost had forgotten what day it was. It was Christmas of course! As my brother and I anxiously stood at the top of the stairs Stephen, my younger brother, went to wake my parents up on this 7 am Christmas morning. As my sister comes rumbling out of bed it becomes apparent she cares more about sleep than gifts at this moment. So we let her go for later. Right after, my parents come shuffling out of their room just as ready to go downstairs as we were. Halfway down the stairs I looked over, and there it was. A black Les Paul waiting for me. Without even as much as giving the other gifts a glance I scurried to it ecstatic as anyone could imagine. And with each day of the month passing by, I could feel myself growing closer to this Black Les Paul. Now it is the only thing I use more than my computer!

            To this day guitar is still in my life every moment. There hasn’t been a single day where I have been ashamed or regretful of my choice as a passion. Although it may have seemed like rambling it was to show how much passion can take over your life and make you a better person. If there were one thing to do, it would be to implore a passion into your life someday. You won’t regret it!

 

 

Descriptive Essay ; The Damaged Picture

       Honesty plays many roles in life, therefore it is always good to be honest and not lie because you would be in the wrong position and have guilt in life. When you’re honest too someone you let out more relief. When you keep something from someone and they end up finding out it will be worse. Such as lets say if you were in an relationship and you hid something and lied about it and they find out afterwards it might lead to a break up, but if you’re honest they would be mad but at least they know they can trust you not too lie again.

        Such as in my scene 2 we weren’t honest about the situation nor did my grandfather found out “As we put it together we immediately hung it back on the wall. Leaving no appearance of damage we left it as if nothing had happened.” Even though sometimes you want to lie and not be honest because you don’t want to face the consequences you’re going to end having too anyways.

     My mother had this picture that might have been the only picture she had of her childhood. In the picture it shows her as a young girl with dark blondish hair cut short with a light dress, and a background of nature behind her. It was like a paper picture type connected to and old light wooden piece with damps of dark wood printed on certain spots. 


       One day my brother and I were playing with water and throwing it at each other, the picture was placed on the table because the nail it was placed on wasn’t stable. We had forgot that the picture was placed there, so as we were throwing water around not remembering by accident a whole cup of water had spilled on the picture. As my brother and I took a quick glance at the picture I saw as the water started to make the left corner of the picture to tear off. I had gotten so scared because the picture had meant a lot too my mom, a gift from her grandmother before she had died. My brother and I had gotten so scared we quickly hid the picture, my mom had gotten home looking for the picture me and my brother had gotten so frightened. But I knew I would have too face the consequences afterwards if she found it so I came and told her by accident a cup of water spilled on it so I had put it away so that way it can dry up.


         
So I had brought the picture out and gave it to her as she quickly tried to fix it. I knew that if I didn’t tell her she would be really upset, and when I told her I felt so relieved. I didn’t have to face the consequences if she had found it. By the look of her face I can see the redness appeal coming out, but as it started too fade she just gave me and my brother a glance nodding her head and quickly drying the picture up and putting it away. As she talking walking away “ Yous are lucky you told me this now or not you guys would’ve been punished for trying to hide it”. I quickly inhaled a breathe, thinking in my head “WHEW”, I had felt relieved, as my brother looked at me with a scared suspicious look on his face immediately walking away from the table.


            As my mom came back she had looked upset because there was nothing she could’ve really had done because we had already fixed the situation. She sat and starting talking to me about how much that picture meant too her, as I started too tell her it was an accident and what had happened my brother came rushing in the conversation telling his part. I quickly interrupted him because I wasn’t to honest too my mom about the situation, she just said what is done is done. My brother and I just walked away as i pushed him up the steps before he had made the situation worse then it was.

     

 

 

Descriptive Essay: Who am I, That is the question.

Who am I? That has always been an essential question for incoming freshman to SLA. I never really understood why we had to answer that question along the way, but I’m now a sophomore and I still have no idea who I am. It really bothers me that for 15 years I still haven’t figured out who I am. Constantly going from class to class and making new friends I still can’t pin point who the “real” me is.

Which takes me here, to Mr. Block’s class, writing a 3-page essay about our memories. Sadly, the ones that I can be really descriptive on are the sad ones. Leading up to this was 2 scenes, a revise, and a “hot words” is what Mr. Block likes to call them. While I was writing I couldn’t really think on what to write until he announced, “ Everyone put ‘Free Write’ on top of your Google document. You have ten minutes.” I had no idea what so ever to put on my Google doc. I sat in class, during last period for about 4 minutes pondering on what to jot down. Words of any kind, non-stop about anything that my two scenes reminded me about a larger part in life.

I stared and stared until I finally thought of a good idea. “Who am I really?” That was a question that I was trying to answer. While trying to haul all my thoughts and words on this page quickly I finally knew what to say and how to say it. For some reason, I’ve always felt sad, the little things I picked out, and sometimes I even feel as though I’m not confident enough in myself.

I know that not everyone is going to like or approve of you but sometimes I just feel this way.  Other times, I feel empty, just as hallow as a log. I feel like I’m hiding behind a mask most of the time. Who am I really? The darker thoughts reminded me of how it all started like a punch to the face. I remembered how I first felt like I was lost in myself trying to find my true self out. It all started when my friend had called my name in technology class during the 6th grade, “Briana?” he asked.

That’s all I could hear through the thundering of noise of voices echoing off the technology walls. My best friend David had showed me a picture of this fallen angel with it’s back facing the screen and her left wing broken and crippled but the right wing folded in. The picture was very alluring and it drew me in like the smell of a fresh homemade apple pie. I couldn’t help but understand the picture so well. With constant friends leaving, and promises broken, I understood the pain and sorrow that screamed through the picture.

With my speechless eyes I stared at the picture. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was if my eyes hunger for the understanding of the photo. It felt as if I needed the reassuring judgment that the photo brought to it self. The power in the photo was overpowering that everything I was supposed to hear, was closed and pushed out.

After being suck into the vibe of the photo I soon heard, “It’s time to go. Everyone line up.” I soon realized that it was time to go back to class with my homeroom teacher. And with that, I pushed in my chair with aching noises of yelling and got in line. We then as a class, left the technology room. Having this whole flashback moment I realized how many bad things must have happened when I was little.

I’ve always had friends leaving me from my side. And I’ve always been so trustworthy, believing everyone that was nice to me. Always being lied to and having to chose over friends, I’ve never really knew who was telling me the truth and who wasn’t. The constants “I’ll always be your friend” or “You can tell me anything” had always been a lie for me. Now I don’t know who’s really being truthful, and who’s not.

I guess you can say I kind of just gave up on people? I still have things to strive for, but now people are just an obstacle for me. I sound like a horrible person to others when they read this, but I’ve always learned that there's a story behind every person. There's a reason why that they’re the way they are. They aren’t just like that because they want to, something in the past created that.

But knowing that I still feel as though I would be hated for being the me that I think is my true self. Sometimes not caring is the only thing that saves you. But if you think about it, I’m not the one completely at fault. Because others didn’t like the way I was, I changed. I learned how to control my tears. I mold myself into the person that everyone wants me to be.

To them, I was the backup. The one everyone looks to in time of need. But what if the backup needs a backup? I remembered one time when I tried to pour out all my thoughts, my feelings onto paper. “Why” was the only word on the page of my spiral notebook.

 Somehow I couldn’t think of anything to say. I somehow wanted to get all the pain out. Sitting there on the farthest of my couch I thought about the happy times that used to be fun and made everyday seemed as though the sun was out and smiling down on us. That’s when I quickly snapped back into reality. I didn’t notice at first, but I soon felt a small marble like tear jump from my cheek and onto the pants of my leg.

I wiped my face with the quickness. I was angry with myself. How could I possibly cry over something that happened so many times already? With my thoughts filled with rage I finally begin to write. When I was done, I still didn’t feel any different.

I was confused with how my coping skills had failed me like my 5th grade teacher tried to do. How could I still be feeling upset if I just poured out all of my feelings on the paper that was trying to keep it hostage? After a while I just sat, and pondered on what to do next. I then noticed that all I could do was just accept all of it. Accept the pain, happiness, sorrow, everything.

And after my friendship of 8 years ended with one of my closest friends, I told my self to shut down completely. Now I can’t tell my feelings from real to fake. I just go with the flow of my life. I follow what people want from me. I smile when I feel it’s a need to, and I try to be sad when everyone else is too.

I’m numb, and I don’t know how to fix myself yet. Maybe it’s better to leave the broken pieces of glass where they are instead of trying to put them back together. So I continue to find out who I really am. Searching for the chance when that one faint light shines to lead me out of the surrounding darkness of my own shell. But until then I still look for the answer to my question, “Who am I?” 

DescriptiveEssay: Average Kid

                                                                        Average Kid

            Today I’m an average American kid who has been very fortunate but years before I was an embarrassed Vietnamese kid who was uncomfortable with my own name, Viet. Now I’m very connected with my culture and everyday I’m learning something new, like different sayings and the different ways of life but also the history of the country, as I go along.

Years ago I used to think about asking my parents to legally change my name to Victor or some other American name that wouldn’t stand out as Viet. When I was in school I was considered an outsider because of my entirely different name. I was different from everyone else because of my name. When I was in kindergarten everyone thought I was Chinese, at that time People stereotyped Asian people as Chinese but there were an abundant amount of different cultures in Asia. I really didn’t care at the time because I was five and I didn’t know that much about anything then and there. My cousin and I were the same age and the same ethnicity but what set us apart were our names and that changed the way people looked at him and looked at me. In the beginning my parents told me to think it over again because I could be giving up something that made me unique from the rest of the kids, my name. They saw my name as something that would separate me from all of the ordinary kids in school and on the streets. They saw it as something special that no other kid could have. At the very least my parents would let me add the American name as my middle name rather than changing my first name. About a month later my parents asked me if I wanted to change my name to something more commonly heard in American like, Victor or John, but I said no. After rethinking it over I accepted my name because it was different from everyone else. I didn’t want to be like the other American kids anymore because I didn’t want to be stereotyped as something I wasn’t.

In the summer of 2011 I went to Vietnam. There I felt at home because I was no different from anyone else there. I fit in, I didn’t feel like an outsider and I felt like that was where I belonged. No one would question me what I was doing because everyone was doing it. It was something natural there rather than something different, where, as most people would just stare at me. In Vietnam it was like being on another planet where I wouldn’t have to worry about someone accepting or someone staring at me. I could connect to everyone else because everyone was the same as me. I wasn’t that other kid who didn’t have an American name. I fit in because I had a name that wasn’t so different from others. Ironically I’ve never visited or seen Vietnam and I’ve never felt more at home when I was there. Even though I’ve lived in and was born in America I never felt the way I did when I was in Vietnam. Although I’ve been raised in America where I assimilated to the way of living here, I still don’t feel exactly where I should be at times. I eat pizza, watch TV, use the Internet, and play games. In Vietnam I sit down and really get to know my family because a lot of things in Vietnam aren’t as updated as they are here in America. I do things that are normal in America. I remember during the course of second grade I had brought coconut as a drink to school for lunch and when I opened my lunch box everyone had seen that there was something I normally didn’t have and they asked what it was. When I answered that it was coconut everyone around me looked at me like I was the craziest and most insane person to drink that. In Vietnam coconuts were extremely fresh or almost any produce for that matter but it would be delightful refreshment. I would be something that was eaten once in awhile and it was enjoyed.

On the way back to Philadelphia I missed Vietnam but I also missed my own house, where I could sleep on my bed comfortably rather than feeling awkward about sleeping in someone else’s room for three weeks. Waking up the next day to visit the family I’ve grown to know all my life. Coming back to see my cousins that I’ve grown up with was nothing like when I came to my aunts house for the first time. When I first walked into the house the majority of my family greeted me on my dad’s side that I was going meet for the rest of this vacation. Only a few other relatives were missing but it felt stuffy in the house. Most of my relatives were there to greet me, it was nice for the first day or two but after awhile it was irritating because I was the center of attention because I was the son of the brother who had the chance to live in America. I was also special because I was the son of the second or third child that was still living. For next three weeks I had become the center of attention. If someone wanted to know something about America they would ask me, instead of asking my completely fluent speaking father. I would always be asked what did I do, what did I have, was there this or that at different times of the day. I realized I should learn more about my culture and language to be able vacation in that paradise of country one day.

 

 

Objects to People Connctions

Keith Moody 

9/16/11

 Object to Human Connections

Do people just write-to-write, does that make that person a writer. How can you just write something random like this paper? If people just wrote because they felt like it would everyone get published or would only certain people get published. I believe that to be a writer your story has to be a person not just a story. Which means that your story must have human characteristics. When you give a story those characteristics it allows it to connect to people. The writer must make his/her story have emotion, rules, looks, anything that will connect with the reader bind with the reader. The reason why I say this is because a story without feelings is a story with no problem. Most stories have a problem even though you can’t see it it’s aproblem is what a person sees.

I wonder can I be a writer can I really? I think not. The reason for that is because I don’t have emotion and good grammar in my writing and that's one of the key points in books that are published. To just publish a book must feel wonderful so everyone gets joy and everyone connects.

On the surface there is a bunch of leaves, tree leaves. There is a car above those leaves, red car. It's like a Lamborghini. In the background area there are two trees. That tress is very bushy so it covers most of the background area. The car is like an inch away from both sides of the picture. It's outdoors of course. The front of the car is flat. The leaves are small and mostly brown. The light beaming down on the car coming from the bright and powerful sunlight, striking once again to prove that no other light can be brighter. The oval shapes of these leave made the surrounding feel a lot different then it used to. Where did that car come from? It’s just there out in the wilderness all by itself taking up all the tropical breezes and rain, but still no damage done as if the car cant be touched. It’s rare not something you see everyday a stranded car not need for rescue, but what if the car need that rescue no one would care. When you see a car you knew that 3 ton metal on wheels. People always expect a person to be there. Not today there isn’t there is just a car.

One day I got a present it was very important to me. Red ropes and Black ropes they all were there. That ring they fight the one where all the dirty mess happened hand to hand combat, foot to foot combat. It’s weird how you can lose one of those ropes in just a blink of an eye. It was there i tell you it was there i remember it and up to this day I wonder where it went. I cant believe I lost that rope now all i have a hard mattress for those sweaty men to wrestle on. I looked for that rope forever I couldn’t find it, but i wonder where that rope would've gone. The picture of that ring was not complete without that rope it didn’t make sense to have that piece missing. With all the digging and searching I’ve done for that rope. Boxes and boxes i went through looking. When you can’t find that missing piece the set fells empty the present feels empty.

Did you ever get a present for Christmas? Then it broke that day, how did you feel. Let me tell you about my gift. Wrapped in red and green paper so fragile. First the tape then the wrapper off it went flying, into the air floating to the ground. A bright light shined out of the box. I dug my hands in there and took out that bright light. The light dimmed down and I saw it my present 4 wings custom paint it was there. I wondered what did I do to deserve that gift. I also didn’t want to argue with it. A box with an antenna was used to control as it hovered into the area. Of course I didn’t know how to use it so it hit the hard floor above you. SMACK. My mouth dropped just like my gift in my eyes it fell so slow like a movie when they make a dramatic scene. SWOOSH and that was it. I tried to fix it, tape I thought to fix those four beautiful wings. Once I was finished I felt success. An eager smile went across my face.

 

Descriptive Essay: Discovering My Own Life

Adventure is defined as an unusual or exciting experience; however, I personally think it's more then that. Experiences change and share people. My life is full of adventure; I love to move through life unplanned and on instinct. It brings me joy to discover new things unintentionally.

Books take me places I thought I would never get to see, especially autobiographies. I recently read, “If You Ask Me (And of Course You Won’t) by Betty White. You’d think there was nothing significant about it, but when I look at it, I see way beyond the plain white background. From the start, I was hooked. It seemed as if every time I turned the page, I was running through doors. The doors would open up to another time, place, event, in her life. When it was over, I would grab the next knob and the process would continue. Through 252 pages, I could vividly picture each moment, each emotion, each breath she took.

Angela Carter once said, “Reading a book is like rewriting it for yourself. You bring to a novel, anything you read, all your experience of the world. You bring your history and you read in in your own terms.” It’s funny to think how much life parallels to reading. Through books, you can discover a whole new world or even look further into a world that you are missing out on. Every book I have ever read took me on its own adventure; however, I was really leading the journey myself.

Adventures are beyond literacy. My life is also full of exciting adventures, especially with family. Every time my cousin Charlie and I spend time together, we always have fun. It all started out like any other rainy Saturday. After greeting each other and spending twenty-minutes driving to the mall, we stepped into the shallow puddles of once upon a time rain. As excited, as I was to see him, I could not help but wonder how fun this empty uninteresting mall would be. Once we walked through the door, we had unspoken agreement to head to the comic book store. After revealing our inner nerds, we head down to the FYE.

        One of the escalators was broken and we could not stop hysterically laughing as our imaginations ran wild about why it was in that condition. Comic books are not the only thing we obsess over; there is always music and movies. Like kids in a candy store, we ran around yelling movie titles and artists to each other. Nothing compares to when we scrolled through posters, making comments on each one. The best part was the fact that we were the only ones who understood our jokes; everyone stared. We honestly did not care.
        The mini adventure in that store ended after Charlie bought our favorite strawberry candies. The mall looked evacuated, like a natural disaster pushed everyone away. Together, we began to move down the row of stores looking for something interesting. Since the building was silent with the lack of people, I could here the roaring thunder; it echoed throughout the bare, plain, white walls. Pressing on down the glimmering tiny tiles, I could hear little pitter-patters. It seemed as if the rain was falling right next to my ears. I started to glance up at the skylights taking note of the splattering tears of a storm and the electrifying light, which shined throughout the second floor.
        I have seen plenty of thunderstorms before, but none like this. It was as if the lighting was coming right for us and the dark, mysterious clouds were only intimidating this mall. It would take much more to scare me, so we kept walking, chatting, and laughing. The next thing we came across was the Halloween store. All we did was turn in silence towards each other and say in sync, “I cannot wait till Halloween!” While we went into detail about my Halloween costume, we came across the bookstore. I recently read Betty White’s book and decided to pick up another autobiography. I searched past different musicians, politicians, and celebrities to come across, “From This Moment On” by Shania Twain. As soon as I looked at the picture of the brunette country legend, I remembered when I grabbed my hairbrush and sang her songs on the glass coffee table for my “audience.”
        With that purchase, we ate and strolled through the mall. Traditionally, we always sit for hours talking about everything. We are not ones to break a routine; we grabbed a bench and relaxed. As we talked about personal issues, feelings, and secrets, I began to imagine this bench turning into a bubble of trust that only we knew the entrance to. This bubble was unbreakable with a million protective shells containing our deepest conversations. While we were getting wrapped up in each other's lives, we almost did not notice the puddles beginning to submerge through the roof in spots around the entire mall. We almost did not even realize the fact that half the building was pitch black and the room seemed emptier then before. Apparently the power went out and the only reason we could see was the lightning peaking in and emergency lights. A dimmer environment did not take us out of our zone. We spent too much time apart and there was only this small opportunity to finally catch up. So even though it started out as a regular rainy Saturday, it turned into a memorable and eventful day that I will cherish forever.

Through that mall experience, I learned more about the bond Charlie and I had. I never took the time to notice how alike we are. We love the same shows, movies, food, and music. Of course, family isn’t the only way to experience life or discover new things. Friends have a way of opening your mind to whole new experiences, leading to tons of new adventures.

It was a Saturday morning and as planned, Karly and I were heading off to the Arden Theatre in Old City. After hours of becoming someone new and immersing in imagination and creativity, we opened the big wooden, glass doors. The exposed sunshine was warm on my face, which added to my happiness. At this point it was about eleven in the morning and Karly and I had an hour to kill. Instead of waiting around forever on the cement steps, we went looking for adventure. And of course, food.

Across the street, I spotted a comic book store; my stomach could wait. Faster then a cheetah, I ran across the street as if I was playing Frogger. I was greeted with a life size Spiderman welcoming me to this new land. Each wall was covered from top to bottom with colorful covers and victorious heroes of all shapes and sizes. There were so many characters throughout the store; they all screamed, “Pick me!” I just wanted to run up and down every isle and scroll through everyone of them. While looking for the perfect one, each one tended to take me on a different kind of adventure.

After being scooted out of the store, we came to Second Street and looked from left to right. Where to go, where to go… From the corner of my right eye I could see Soho Pizza. After pointing it out to Karly, she remembered being there before. We crossed the street on a search for a great slice of pizza. When you walk through the narrow passageway, you can see the small, yet warm environment. My nostrils filed with the smell of pizza sauce and freshly kneaded dough.

While admiring the autumn colors and empty tables, I almost didn’t hear the male behind the counter. “What can I get you?” he asked, looking confused at the fact that I was staring into space. After finally coming back to reality, Karly and I sat and ate. I couldn’t help but notice that the guy behind the counter continued to make excuses to come over to our table; as if he wanted to start a conversation but couldn’t. Let’s just say we made a new friend that day. Together we realized that this would be a regular Saturday routine for us; every week, we’d look forward to the weekend.

It is important for me to remember these times when I sat down with a good book and when I enjoyed the company of others because without these individual mini-scenes of my life, I would not be where I am now. Adventure has really shaped my love for new things such as: language, cultures, places, food, etc. It has also taught me to keep an open mind. For these reasons, I will continue to encourage others to take the time to stop thinking and planning every moment because sometimes while in the midst of all the stress you miss out on a lot. Every day is a new opportunity to learn and get everything out of life.

Descriptive Essay: Football Is My Future

“RUNNNNN” that's all I remember coach yelling as I had the ball in my hand. I was nervous at first because it was my first game and all I could do was stand there in shock, but when coach yelled run that’s exactly what I started doing. As I ran I seen a guy coming towards me and in his eyes all I seen was anger as if he wanted to hit me but really hurt me. As he came to me I was thinking about how to get around him and I thought to use a stiff arm so when he got close enough I stuck my arm out and made his head cock back as if he was going to pop a juice. When he hit the ground I started running faster until I seen two other guys and one was high the other low. I thought that they were going to try to chop me down like a tree by hitting me in my mid section and in my legs but instead a blocker from my team hit one of the guys and knocked him to the ground, he was flattened like a pancake. The other guy was going for my legs so I jumped over him as if he were a hurdle in a race, Then as I continued running I seen nothing but the end-zone then I heard my coach yelling RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNN and I looked to my side seen nothing then I looked behind me and I seen a guy he looked at me as if he was a cheetah and I was a gazelle. Then I started running for my life and I was running as fast as I could because I needed to score, if I didn’t score I felt as though it could have came back and hurt the team later on in the game and I wanted to have something to be proud of and I wanted to make my family proud. When I got to the ten yard line I was starting to feel gassed so I gave the rest of my energy into the touchdown and when I was 5 yards away I dove 4 the end-zone scored and then I got up and celebrated. But then my team joined in so we got flagged for unsportsmanlike conduct but we all were really hype and coach didn’t care because we won that game and we were kids so we were just having a little fun.  
After the game I was walking around wondering where I could get some food but then one of my friends asked if I wanted to play a quick game of football with him and some of my other friends, so I started playing but then we smelt this horrible odor like a trash truck had just went by us or was just dumping trash in front if us then we realized that one of us had fallen in dog poop. Then we found out that it was my friend and we all started laughing except him, he started crying and we started laughing even more and harder. He didn’t think it was funny because it was embarrassing to him and he really smelled bad like as if he hadn’t showered in his whole life it was the worst. I almost threw up for the smell so ten I went home and looked for some food in the fridge and then my mom said she would cook some chicken and I was happy because I love chicken and I was very happy. After I ate I took a shower and washed all the dirt off of me from the football game and the tub was filthy when I got out it look as if there was the food that pigs are fed at a farm in the tub so then I cleaned it so I wouldn't get in trouble. Then when I got out of the shower I was tired so I went in my room and just fell out on the bed like a lion would if a tranquilizer dart shot it.
In this picture there is a kid and he has a very determined look on his face, he’s on one knee one hand on his knee his other hand tightly grasping a football. His face looks as if he cant wait to get the field and show everybody what he’s got, surrounding him is some dark green grass but some patches as if it was on a baseball field, as of right now his jersey is clean and white as a cloud in the sky and underneath his jersey there is a somewhat tight red shirt to keep him warm so it may be cold outside. Behind him to his right is a tall light pole which is next to a equipment crate and a huge fence like in prison except its without the bared wire, his pants are clean and red as blood when a cut occurs. The helmet in front of him sit there white as a new t-shirt next to his red and white cleats as he awaits to begin to run, his fingers aren’t straight there a little curled as if he seems nervous, he is surround back trees behind him green as spinach the trees stand tall and vary in sizes and color some huge some small some just in the middle some the color of money some the color of spinach and some the color of a lime. The part of the field where he sits on one knee looks as if it was just used for a baseball game and it looks like its has very little grass but the dirtish sand looks like the same color as toast. If you can see closely enough you would realize that at the top of the fence is like a blue strip of paint as if some body was going to start painting the fence. The football is brown as natural sugar with some writing on it like of signatures and who the football is made by while his fingers are in the shape of a sorta L at the tip of the football his thumb rest close to the white laces of the football.
Have you ever been passionate about something that nothing else really matters? Well I have and I’m passionate about football. I loved football ever since I can remember I wanted to be a football player since I was little and my favorite player of all time is Jerry rice because he was the greatest NFL wide receiver in history, but I think he was the greatest NFL player of all time. When I grow up I want to play wide receiver and break all of Jerry rice’s records so then I can go down in history as the greatest NFL player of all time and will always be remembered and I think it would make my family proud because it would show that I'm a dream-chaser because when I was little I wanted to be like my dad until I got older and really understood that I didn’t want to be like him because I don’t want to be like anybody or the next anybody I want to be better then everybody and have other people be called the next me. When I grow up I’m always going to remember to take care of my family and never forget who I am no matter how I am on the field I will always be the same MARTEZ CARD.  As of right now I don’t play football but I study the stats to have a high football IQ and so that when I get into the NFL I know all about the game of football and all of the rules, so I will be able to know if I did something wrong or not. Also I study stats because I like to just know what records I will be able to break and what I will have to do to break these records because I want to be remembered as the greatest NFL player of all time and because I love the game of football and I am dedicated to the game of football, my love, my passion.






Descriptive Essay: The Moments

I was sitting quietly on my couch watching the Phillies against the New York Yankees in the World Series 2009. The Yankees just needed one more game to win. The Yankees were up a run, three to two. My eyes slowly closing, I kept blinking to keep myself awake. I lost hope in the Phillies, knowing that it was over for them. My living room was full of silence. I remember it like it was last year, but the Phillies were two games ahead of the Tampa Bay Rays, three to one. It was the fifth game.
        This is how I remembered it. I hear my brother’s excited voice, “Yo Kenny! Come watch the last inning of the Phillies! They’re about to win!” I heard him running up the wooden stairs, each step making a sound like a wooden knock. I came upstairs and saw my dad and my brother staring at the TV screen like they were hypnotized. My brother was wearing a Phillies hat and my dad was wearing a bright red Phillies shirt. The game was over and the Phillies won the World Series. My dad’s eyes opened up. He stretched his arms all the way up and yelled, “Phillies won!” and then my brother yelled out “Aw yeah!”

Now I’m just sitting here watching all by myself. My dad gave up on watching and went to his laptop. My brother went to play on his computer. The Phillies lost to the New York Yankees. There’s no “woo’s” just a normal regular day. There are no special events happening on these regular days. My parents come home from work, they eat then they sleep. It’s mostly just my brother and I hanging out at home most of the time. I play video games with my brother or we usually just go outside and ride bikes around the block.

Whenever I’m with my family in these small moments, I feel happy. It gives me company when I’m at home. It is a small moment with my family, but all the time with my family together counts. Family is your friend, but they’re always with you and ready to help. They always listen to what you have to say and try to help you with your everyday troubles. These small moments make me remember the even bigger and greater moments I had with my family, like one time we had our whole family reunion.

I was getting ready for a really special occasion happening today. It is the day where my family has a reunion. My family dressed up in tuxedos and dresses for this occasion. I suited up in my black tuxedo; black dressed shoes and gelled my hair. I was ready. We are going to a nice, huge restaurant to have our whole family picture taken and eat lunch together.

        I arrived at the restaurant. “Hey! Kenny’s here everyone!” I hear my little cousins calling my name and it was just awesome to see them having fun. I went to go see my older cousins. We talked and took pictures because we were dressed so nicely. I see tables everywhere with plates and cups; ready to eat. I see my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents smiling with happiness. Everyone was full of red smiles. My little cousins were running around and having a good time. All I hear is my family talking and laughing. The room was filled with happiness and sounds of laughter. It was like we haven’t seen each other in a long time and is excited to see each other.
        It’s time for the photo. The photographer set us up on a stage and placed us according to our age and family member. Male cousins were together on the right side, female on the left side, my grandparents were at the top middle while their sons and daughters were around them from the left and right side. My little cousins that were under 13 were at the bottom of the middle. We all got ready. “Three, two, one! Smile!”  
        “It’s time to get ready and eat! Come sit down.” my grandpa said. Everyone came to the tables and sat down. The kids were with the kids and the adults were with the adults. Fried rice with egg, pork, onions, and shrimp, sautéed lobsters with green onions, sweet glazed, crispy shrimp, and seafood soup were all over everyone’s table. I was ready for this food! It looked so good. As I got ready to devour the food, I heard a ringing sound of glass. I saw my grandpa holding up his glass cup and gently tapping the cup with his spoon. At that moment I knew he was getting ready for a speech. My grandpa was talking about how wonderful it was to have us all here and healthy. He said that we might never get another time like this. When he said that, I thought of our every other week Sunday parties. I told myself “We still have our Sunday parties. We’re still going to see each other.

At the time of the family reunion, it was just another fun day with my family. My family usually has Sunday parties. I thought it was just another Sunday party during the reunion. I didn’t really think of the moment. I just lived it and had fun. As the day went through and the day ended, I started to think how special that reunion was. This was one of my favorite moments with my family. We never ate together at a restaurant with my whole family before. It was really special because all of our family members came from Vietnam, so my grandparents decided it was time to get a family photo and eat together as whole family.

The moments of the Phillies and the family reunion made me think. It made me think that I might never have a moment like this in my life again. When we grow up, we leave our family and work everyday like adults. We don’t get to see much of our family after that. I try to cherish all the time I can spend with my family.

Descriptive Essay

Robbie McCormac Essay 9/14/11

The accident started on a Saturday Morning around 8 o’clock. My younger brother and I awoke and got out of bed. Sneakily went downstairs trying not to wake up my sleeping parents. As we softly crept downstairs softer then the foot steps of a mouse, we couldn’t help but giggle feeling like spies. I would put my hand in front of my little brother to try to get him to stop laughing. As we arrived down the green rug steps we sat and planned out how we were going to get the soda back upstairs from the kitchen. We wanted those bright red cans of coke all to ourselves. We approached the living room and sneaked through but we heard a noise and jumped behind the couch with lightning speed. We sat there, our hearts beating like we just escaped being chased. We slowly poked are heads out like marines looking over sand bags. We stayed towards the back of the couch slowly crab walking from behind it. We were out in the open crawling through the dinning room now going under chairs and the table. We finally reached the cold grey floor of the kitchen with that beam of bright light in the center of the floor. I stud up and slowly opened the refrigerator trying not to make a sound. I looked up and saw the big red box that said Coke A Cola.

I reached up and grabbed it! I yelled with excitement “we have it!” I tossed a can

to my brother while running through the dinning room. When we were running through the living room I happened to slip and the big red box flew out of my hands landing and breaking a picture on the wall. As the glass broke we heard noise from up satires and got nervous so we tried to clean up as fast as possible. We heard foot steps drugging down the steps. It was my mom looking over her picture. The picture was of two little boys who broke a vase and are just standing there not doing any thing. As my mom looks up she sees me and my little brother standing there not doing anything in front of this broken picture. She gives a little laugh and we all help each other clean up the mess.

It was 3 ball’s and 2 strikes. I looked down at the mat in front of me then look up and see my yard and friends. It was a hot July day the day that makes you sweat until your bone. I could feel the beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. I watched them like rain drops hitting the ground, as they hit the ground they would sink into the ground never to be seen again. I raised my eyes back to the pitcher and gave him a little head shake. It was like slow motion .I watched his arm raise up into the air I could see his veins tighten and his fingers slowly rolling of the ball. The ball was coming at me fast but it seemed like it was taking so slow. I gripped up on the bat like how Homer may choke Bart. The ball arrived but so did my bat they made contact and it sounded like a hurricane. The ball flew right out of my yard. I looked up trying to follow it but the sun was in my eyes. And I heard a loud noise like something broke. My friends and I gave each other an Igor look at one another as we walked over to the tall black fence we see a baseball sized hole in the window next door. I stand there confused on what I should do, Should I go over and tell them what happen or should I go back into my house and act like nothing ever happen. The fence is the only thing that stops me it’s telling me not to go I just stare at the ground with the thousands of pieces of broken glass. As I see my reflection in the pieces I walk away hiding what truly happen. I didn’t own up to my responsibilities. I felt confused it wasn't a serious problem but I felt bad inside.

Responsibility is hard to have and hard to keep once you mess up your trust is ruined like a car that got into an accident. People stop reliving you and they slowly go away and dissolve like pixels when you shut your t.v off. You can ether be honest and not for about your mistakes and tell the truth but that’s not every one, Some people dig graves for them self’s with the amount of lying they do. This is how I fell some times.


This reminds me of how people don’t own up to there mistakes. People do a lot of stupid things but it is important to own up to your mistakes because if they don’t it can cause problems in many different ways lying does not solve problems it only causes more. I have always tried my hardest to tell the truth and own up to my mistakes but it doesn't always work like that. I never really realized what it’s like to harbor secrets because I usually don’t keep any but it it’s you it wants to get out it tries to crawl through your voice box and climb right out of your throat trying to expose it’s self to the world. You can’t hep but wonder if your going to keep it for ever or if your ever going to forget about it. But deep down you know it’s going to be waiting for your moment of weakness.

Descriptive Essay: Wandering in my emotions


I was sitting in this long black couch next to the wall. I was waiting for dinner to be cooked. So I'm sitting there and all of a sudden i feel this shake, this shake of violence. First i feel a  tremble not violently but slightly. I thought it was someone outside working, So i look out the window in the middle of she shaking and i saw no one but cars. So then I turn around very slowly and there goes the television also going into this shake of death.

I was scared i felt as if the world was ending I quickly ran upstairs to my grandmas room in great panic, as she is laying there asleep in silence i thought she was up there shaking the house. So i ask her did she feel the shake she said very sudden and quick “no! i thought it was you”. So i slowly crept down the stairs as the shaking began to stop. As soon as i hit the third step the shaking was stopping, my hands clinched to the railing and wall on my left. When it was over my mind was full of thoughts ranging from being scared to curiosity. I did not know how to carry myself through the house. My body was still shaking and the over all shaking had already stopped.

I can already feel the sweat drops forming on my hands and the hairs standing on my neck because of what just happened. This out standing moment really made me look of myself and find out that side of being actually scared. I never felt that way before because i never felt such a random shake before. The shake actually feels as if you are on a motor boat going fast or in a plane feeling slight turbulence.

I probably actually felt like The president on 9/11 with my emotions and thoughts flying everywhere. Its surprising that your feel can scatter and scramble like that on something like this. I walked down the stairs and got the living room and when I got to the living room I jumped twice to make sure the ground was stable and not moving anymore. So i ran to the kitchen with great joy and panic. I quickly turned the t.v on in the kitchen and turned it to the local news. As soon at I turned to channel 10.

I wasn’t sure what it was just yet but i was confident it was a earthquake. The t.v started to clear up, i picked my head up from pouring the cereal and it said “BREAKING NEWS” a 5.8 magnitude earthquake struck the eastern sea board, I was like “wow” i actually felt an earthquake. My mind wasn’t on the fact that the whole house shook and i was scared. My mind was on the fact that I ACTUALLY FELT AN EARTHQUAKE.

So now i couldn’t move at all, i was just stuck in this trance of wow. As my sister walked thought the door of the kitchen  the wind blew gently against my face and i shook and the hairs stood up on my neck. She yelled “Oh my gosh, Diamond did you feel that earthquake?” i said “yea it was decent”. She replied “i know that was the first time i ever felt something like that.” I said “i know I'm older then you and I have been everywhere you been, so i know if you felt one or not” as i chuckled.

She left the kitchen and I just continued to think to myself “that was incredible”. Then I looked back up at the t.v and it was on commercial and i wanted to know more about the earthquake so i changed the channel to CNN. So I picked up the remote and I changed the channel to channel four CNN and it was also talking about the incredible news. This time though they were talking about the Washington D.C monuments were okay. So i sat down thinking that something was wrong with the Washington Monuments. Only because I been to D.C once and I didn’t get to see all of them. So for some strange reason i start to sweat, this very cool or cold sweat. Then they said that the Washington monument was cracked at the top so I said that’s just a shame. Then i actually noticed what a earthquake could do.

Speaking of an earthquake I remember when my family that lives in Barbados called my house right after they had a earthquake that was 6.7 magnitude earthquake. They were telling me about how the house shook and they walked threw the house while it was happening not know what was happening. Until about 10 seconds past from the start of the earthquake they found out that it was an earthquake because they didn’t know what it was. In my belief i think that they were scared.

It was so much of a magnitude the house shook very violently. And they also said that the road was a virtual gridlock because everyone was on there way to carnival or back so people in cars paused and now that it had started back up and the earthquake was over people started to move then the roads got blocked up. They said that it was tragic. lots of people had died that day.

Descriptive Essay: Take A Chance

Jalisa Smith


            Everything was a haze. Everything felt like a dream as I sat there on my pale carpet, not knowing how to handle what I thought was coming next, looking up at the ceiling, which to me, needed more color. The walls were bright green, some pictures should have been hanging, holding my memories. The carpet should have been white but no one thought an eleven year old could handle white carpet. The wall needed a splash of a more vibrant color; probably some pink, just because it’s pleasing to the eye when mixed with green. There was something about that disgusting colored carpet that made me love it so much in the darkest moments of my life. It was so soft, so comforting, that I could care less if it was a terrible color.

In the basking of my bland room, my door was suddenly pushed open. So softly it seemed as though it took forever for me to see the person that was sticking their head through the door. Looking down at me, there was my grandmother. Her wrinkly brown skin seemed to be glowing. Her dark brown eyes looked caramelized as she squinted, smiling, just like my dad. I was surprised, but to some extent, I was happy.

I remember how the room suddenly got brighter. The carpet became white and instead of pictures holding memories, they were floating by. Her wrinkly smile and warm voice made my most challenging problems disappear. The ceiling became the sky, the room started to open up, like a rose that had enough sunlight. She walked over to me, step-by-step, looking down at me as though she was looking for confirmation to enter my room. I just smiled back. When she made it to my eye level, I really didn’t know what to expect, maybe a “How was your summer?” or “How is the family?” Instead, she got closer to me and touched my cheeks. Looking at her, I could tell she was happy yet she seemed somewhat desperate. Maybe desperate for me to notice her.

The room went dark, and I was in my bed, sweating bullets and streaming tears. Hoping that everything that just happened, to some extent, wasn’t just a dream.

Earlier that day, I was taking a walk with my best friend. The sun was beaming down on us and the hill we were walking seemed to get higher and higher. We didn’t know where our destination was, but that was our thing… to simply walk around and find something to do. Our future plan making was put to a halt when I got a phone call saying that my grand-mom was in the hospital.

But I couldn’t visit her. I wanted to but I just couldn’t. She was far away from me, so all I could do was pray that she’d be okay. My best friend walked me home and we said our goodbye’s.

We were all sitting in the room. At that time, the living room was open. Just two red leather couches, a TV and a piece of art on the wall. It all blended together, the couches were a deep red, the painting had various deep colors and the carpet was brown. The room itself never felt lively unless we had guests over. So, now it was dreary.

Every voice echoed and the silence made every ones’ thoughts louder.  It was quite over-bearing. Everyone had their thinking faces on, but no one had the guts to say what was on their mind. All eyes were on my dad as he got up and began pacing around the brown carpet. His footsteps were heavier than the usual. His voice was monotone, sort of scary in some way. His eyes were heavy and red, his head bowed low. He looked vulnerable. He was in his home clothes, the usual khaki shorts and white t-shirt. But the casual living of everyday life just weren’t the same after the moment he spoke. He said, “She’s died.”

In that instance, everything that I never noticed in life became relevant. The fact that I could wake up every morning and say good-morning to my family meant a lot to me. But the fact that I couldn’t spend one last summer with my grandmother or buy a phone card to say hello, made my heart beat seem louder and the tears building in my eyes seem heavier than ever.

That moment in my life changed me. I hadn’t seen my grandmother in 4 years. She was always so caring, so quiet, but so wise. I remember feeling terrible because every time I talked to her she’d ask, “When you comin’ down?”

And I could only say, “Soon. As soon as I can.”

But it took me a while to realize that sometimes in life, decisions can’t be made in time, once you have the opportunity to do something, you should do it instead of putting it off and regretting it in the future.

I know that she loves me, I know that she cares about me and regardless of how I feel now, I know she’s in a better place.

Descriptive Essay: The World.

Danielle Little
September 14, 2011
Descriptive Essay

    “ Why act like the world when you can be apart of the world?” this is all I heard growing up. I would try copy the make up that Tyra Banks had on while walking down the catwalk in the largest fashion show I have ever seen. Other times, it would take me at least 30 minutes to put my hair into a style that was on a commercial for caucasian women. Watching my aunt (who is only a few years older) put on make-up, high heels, straightening her hair silky straight, and even wearing hoop earrings, made me want to rush past life and slow down once I reach 18.
    I always wanted to know what it feels like to be apart of the world. To live a life that I only saw in movies and have everything without struggles. I yearned for all the new trends and styles and a world where I can fit into every crowd. I wanted a perfect life, where everything was served to me on a sliver platter.
    When I think about my middle school life, I realized that not only was it middle school, but it was the huge mile stone for me. I remember looking down the rows of desk admiring everyones shoes, picturing myself with 22 different pairs of shoes. Everyone else was different from me, a different skin color, hair and backgrounds. However, I always thought I was the same as everyone else. This was soon contradicted when I started to use their hair products and my hair started falling out. I found out the hard way that I was different.
    I joined a modeling agency at the age of 5. Modeling taught me both good and bad lessons but the main thing I learned was to always be yourself. I realized that you have to listen to your heart and not other people. Modeling shows you what the world wants and how to not get caught up in the next trend. For an example, America’s Next Top Model is a reality show for everyday people to fulfill their dream of becoming a model. These models work side by side with Tyra Banks. However the stress of being apart of the world for a brief moment in your life changes you in a way where you would do anything just to be apart of the world.
  “When do you go back home?” I asked
“Danielle, I’m just taking a little bit of your perfume, calm down. I’m staying for another 2 weeks.” Iyona said as she sprayed the perfume.
My best friend from California came to visit me in Philadelphia. It was only her first morning here, and I was sick of her using my things. That’s just part of a best friend relationship, almost like sisters.
“Come onn! Were going to be late! You’ve been in here before anyone got up. That like ehh 2hrs.” I yelled.
“Looks are priceless, shawty.” As she said this she turned her head to wink.
This is how every teenage girl takes each morning. With Iyona, well she thinks she walking the cat walk every 22 seconds. I always feel bad when I have to break the news to  her. “Iyona....” I say.
“Yes danni boo” she say even sweeter
“Your not on America’s Next Top Model....” I stated
“Oh everywhere I go theres a camera to record me on the cat walk!” She says breaking the silent.
What have I gotten myself into by telling her that. I was thinking to myself that I just made the biggest mistakes I could have made. Iyona has officially taken over the conversation.
“The cat walk is a place for me to express myself” she went on.
“The way I walk express my mood” she boosted.

    To be apart of the world is very easy to get caught into all the drama from the world around us. Just as easy as everyone wearing the same things in different colors. Performing certain tasks to be apart of certain group just to “fit in”.  Not being apart of the world to me means to be yourself. To not follow anyone and allow yourself to think for yourself. You should not have someone think for you and make your decisions.
Certain years in our lives there special stages we go though, such as making friends, finding best friends and realizing who will always be a friend.  However, being yourself and not following the world is the biggest milestone of all.

Descriptive Essay- Fish


Fish

It was a Saturday morning the sun shining bright and vibrantly. i got up early excited for the day that was about to come i put on this plain t.shirt with these jumpers and boots that i got from this bait and tackle shop. around 10 or so my Grandpop began to get ready he asked if i was ready to fish but he could obviously tell by the huge grin on my face that i was more than ready. we hopped in the car and as we were on the road the sky became a dull gray color. The smell of rain aroused my senses. The sound of thunder made me jump out of my seat. This day seemed to be getting worse by the seconds.

Once we arrived to our destination the day came out for the better the sun decided to show its bright exuberant face once again. We opened up the trunk and got out these new shiny and polished fishing poles ready to be casted into the not so clear jagged lake. We got out slimy disgusting bait out the back also waiting to be eating by the deadly catches we planned to get. We took our stand in the cold chilling lake and casted our fishing lines. We waited and waited and waited. I could see this fish passing by my feet and yet none were taking bite to my line..he redness in my face could show my expression.  I began to get bored with the whole waiting idea so i wanted to try to catch with my bare hands. I asked my Grandpop if he had some gloves in his car and he responded with a curious tone in his voice saying yeah. i went to the car got them out and plopped into the water. Grabbing fish was a lot harder than expected at first site. After lunging my hand into the chilling water I caught a fish. The slipperyness of it made it a bit harder to get grip of as it wringled and wrangled out of my hands. After wrestling with this fish for about 1 minute it got away a plopped in the water splashing me as if to say you cant catch me.  


After a few hours of failure I go to the car and moped the whole way home. The dead silence in the car made the ride even more depressing. Once we got home my mom was in the living room Waiting for our arrival her anxiety got the best of her so she opened the big burgundy red door opened for us. She asked where my fi- and then hesitated as she saw the look on my face. That look of failure that look of disappointment.  As I looked behind her I saw it.. a saw the amazing plack. The smoky, tanish-brown oakwood look it had to it. As I go to touch to rugged rough plack it looked so nice but the best part was right below in the center from where the fish was supposed to be placed had this writing in gold that says “Brent and Paul’s. I felt better as it started to glisten as the sun hits it. My mom asked “why such the surprised look on my face?” I responded with “ even though I didn’t catch a fish this plack makes it all the worth while to go try again” Even though throughout that day it was on and off it took patience. Anxiety got the best of me and is most likely
Why I didn’t catch my fish but sobbing over it didn’t make anything better so that plack was a good motivational thing for me and is why I am willing to try again.

Descriptive essay: Grow up!

 I was never good at the growing up stage in life. I would get attached to the silliest things that I got when I was a baby. Some were worse then others. When I finally grew up I realized that it all depended on whom I got it from and when I got it. If it was something recent it wasn’t important, but if it was something I got when I was one then it meant the world to me. I remember the sofa we had my whole life until 3rd grade, which was hard to get rid of.

            Spending my last day with my comfortable, friendly, worn-out, faded brown couch I await for the dump truck men to arrive. I lay on the sofa and question myself as to why my mother would ever want to get rid of such a comfortable sofa. “Will the new one be the  same? Will the new one be as comfortable? Will the new one be as friendly?” Were the questions running through my head non-stop. I hear a faint noise; I run outside and see a retro pick-up truck. I protect my ears from the horrible gargling rumble the engine makes. I take a look at this beautiful couch and realize that this will be the last time I see her in her natural habitat. As my eyes begin to tear my father starts pulling the sofa towards the door. These two men look like they just woke up, they wore stained wife beaters, baggy pants and look like they haven’t shaved in a while. They assist my father with this painful process. I don’t think they deserve to lay a hand on this magnificent creature, but I say nothing. They finally manage to drag her out the door and on to the dirty south Philly sidewalk. “How will I say goodbye?” Is the only think I’m thinking about I run inside and grab a piece of printer paper and write, “I love you” in blue ink with sloppy 3rd grade handwriting. I fold the paper hot dog style and slip it under a cushion. They haul her into the truck and drive away, I take one last look but the smoke from the exhaust covers her. My eyes start to tear again, but I realize this was a good goodbye.

            I got so attached I called it “her”, I got way too attached to this piece of furniture. I wouldn’t just get attached to furniture; I also got attached to toys. It’s worse then it sounds, I wouldn’t give them up (like any other kid) but I would continue playing with them. I remember I had a toy pony that was a life size miniature-rocking pony that I got when I was 3.

            She is beautiful. She is a shiny, light grown plastic pony. Hair light blonde plastic smooth hair shines in the light, she as tall as me (including her springs). Although she is cold, she warms my heart. I could play all day with her. The best thing about her is her name…Peaches. I don’t know how I came up with that name, maybe because I like the fruit, but she had no resemblance of a peach. Anyway, we were in the backyard on a mission to go to the moon. “Aren’t you a tad to old to be playing with her?” My mother snarls at me. “No, she is my best friend and we’re going to grow old together!” I respond in a high-pitched voice, I knew what my mother was thinking. Today is Wednesday and trash night is Thursday, so if I can get her to separate from that thing then we can finally get rid of it. I decide to play with peaches all day long, threw dinner, and right up to bedtime. My mom asks me “When do you think you’ll be ready to say goodbye?” “Never” I respond quickly. At that point in time I realize at some point I’ll have to give her up, I might as well get rid Peaches now before it’s too late. As my father drags my best friend out of the yard and into the alleyway, I think to myself whether I’m ready to give her up. “You ready kid?” My father asks me, unsurely if he should give her to goodwill. “Yeah, I’m a big girl.” I now look back and realize that maybe Peaches was found in goodwill by some other little kid, brought home, and gave that kid a good memory or two. I also realized I had to grow up sometime, not all at once, but this felt like a good start.

            I think that was a good time to grow up. I was eight when I gave up peaches, not too young not too old. She really helped me move on, I realized mature people don’t play with rocking horses. Everyone still has a little bit of kid in them but when I reflect on that, I realize that’s ok. I feel more mature everyday, but my comfy couch and peaches the pony will always be in my heart.


Descriptive Essay: Toms. One for one.

  Drue Boccuti

I love giving back, and giving help to ones in need. I try to do as much as I am able to. I love knowing that what I just did helped out someone, or even just made them smile.  I don’t do really gigantic things like help build houses or anything major like that, but I do as much as I can. For example, my mom’s friend teaches in a school were the kids aren’t as fortunate as I am, so I donate what ever I can to help them and make them smile. Sometimes I don’t always see it his or her reaction but I know someone somewhere is appreciating what I did. Just that feeling is enough.

The last time that I helped someone was sometime near my birthday. What did I do? I bought a pair of Toms shoes. You’re probably wondering what’s so special about that. Well, when purchasing Toms shoes you help a child in need get a pair. I was ecstatic to get the Tom that I’ve been wanting since last January! I remember opening the box like it was yesterday. The first thing I noticed in the box was a bag that serves as a bag or you can hang it up as a flag. Then a small sticker that has the Toms logo and then I finally grabbed the shoes. I slipped them right on my feet, and ran right to my mirror to see how great they looked. Once I stopped looking at my feet, I went out. I didn’t take them off the whole night even when I got home!

The last time that I’ve been this excited for a new pair of shoes had to be Christmas! I had gotten two new pair’s of Uggs that I wore everyday of the winter last year. I love Christmas, spending time with my family and friends. One person that I really love spending time with would have to be my dad. He’s such a caring person who is nice to everyone and he always makes me and everyone else laugh. I think me wanting and liking to help people out comes from both my parents, but more him. My dad is the type of guy who will help an old lady carry grocery bags, or cross the street, help a little kid get a cat out of a tree. Just all around good things to help anyone. I remember this one time he even shocked me.

“Bye thank you for having us” I said hugging my grand parents while dragging my feet out of their house.

“Thank you for coming!” My grandma said to me as she shut the door behind my mom walking out of her house.

“Where did we park at dad?” I asked looking around for our baby blue mini van, like a child looking for a parent in a supermarket.

“Were right on that corner. You look very tired.’’ He said with a smile on his face.

“I am! All I want to do is get to my bed!” I said.

            On the ride home which felt like it was taking much longer then it normally did, I kept my eyes closes and occasionally looked up. Then all of sudden our car had pulled over. I was so excited because I thought we were home. We weren’t, we were only on Broad and Synder.

            “Oh my gosh. What’s going on over there?!” My mom was shouting and she sounded extremely worried.

            “I jumped up and suddenly didn’t feel tired anymore. My dad had remained calm and pulled the car over and jumped out and ran across the street. That was when I laid eyes on the old man.

            “Oh my gosh!!! What happened?” I was freaking out.

My dad went over to the corner grabbed the old man from under his shoulder and him and 2 other older man began to lift this man off the ground. At first they were struggling but then they finally lifted him off the ground. I thought my dad was going to let him go, but my dad had helped this man all the way back to the senior center.

After seeing that, I believe that made me gain more respect for my dad. No one else that I know would ever do that, yeah they might stop and look but no one else would actually get out and help. I do kind of feel bad because the biggest thing that I had done to help someone out is donate a pair of shoes.

Tuesday September 7th  2011, that was the first day of school as a sophomore for me. I was extremely nervous because it was a new school year, and I have all new teachers. I was more upset then nervous because I didn’t want summer to be over, so I tried to think of something that would make me excited to go back to school and leave the shore. All I could think of was seeing my friends. I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone over the summer except for Lexy, Karly and Goldie. I was excited to see them and everyone else. The first day of school was the prefect time for me to show off my new shoes! I was really excited to wear them to school so I made my outfit match them and everything!

“You’re wearing your toms!” Goldie said all excited.

“Yes! I love them! They’re so comfy and adorable!” I said just as excited. Every time I wear them I think of the time I unwrapped them for my birthday.

Every time I wear my Toms which is almost all the time, or see my flag hanging in my room, I am reminded that I helped out a child who isn’t as lucky to have what I have. Sometimes when I see my moms friend I think about all the things that I gave away so some kids to have a better Christmas and that always makes me feel good.



descriptive essay. The Dark War For The Guild of Light.

This is about a game that becomes real. A story of death and murder. A story of power and love. Video games become real. I think if you play something enough you start to feel like you’re in it. And this a story of war and victory with lose of a friend. You will soon know of his story his name is Ox kin.    

The Game Start. Load character Ox kin. Load guild banner. “O.k. men we need to take this base by force to kill this Dark Lord and save over homeland. Well if you don't know I'm Ox kin raid commander of the guild”. As the ship lands the light that shines out the window is soon replaced by a dark Aura. “O.k. opens the door we need to move do you have the guild banner.” well yelling over the doors gears a man yells yea I got it.

Mission starts the assault on the dark lords frozen dark base. O.k. men charge. As the guild members charge past me I feel a dark feeling whisper into my mind: saying you will die like the weak. Before I can react all the men run into a full wall of undead knights. As I charge into the battle the natural powers swarm arrowed me and I get pulled into the form of a bare. “Men don't stop fighting life is too good to die now.” As I say that a lowed yell comes out of the dark castle you will never defeat me you slime. “Look out here comes more knights.” A dark flash of lightning; black bones and decaying flesh get up. “Kill them before they get out of the ground.”

A lot of the men around me die as a frozen bone dragon fires frozen bolts down at us. I look around for help as an old wizard I didn’t want to bring fires a fire bolt shaped like the guild symbol at the dragon hitting it in the head. singeing a mark on its head showing we took the Court yard of the base.

“Ok men now it’s time to force owe way into this crested place. Watch your step here there could be traps any ware.” As I sad that ten men fall into the dark abuse of death. “Well we came here we knew there would be losses now lets keep going.” As we turn the corner a large bone monster is floating at the bottom of a frozen pillar using a frost to stay in the air. ”Attack it” As we all charged in it yelled bone storm and started to spin like a top ripping throw any in its way luckily the rangers were abele to kill him. As we reformed the team we plunged deeper into the citadel were confronted with more and more challenges. But the worst of all was when we need to get a war gunship up to the ramparts to continue thrown the citadel.

There we are at the gate to Hell lights fall a death knight emerges from the large door shaped like a skull as he yells “ death knight yells: now all of you mortal scum will meet your doom.” while we prepare for battle the dark warrior charges me and him clash in combat as a young paladin walks up and casts a burst of holy light into the death knights chest killing him. Into the next room the hallways were set up so if you went to fast throw them then you would freeze to death. So we get past and there are three ways to go so we start from the left.            

When in there were two big decaying dogs with there masters decaying flesh giants. As we killed them the giants got mad and started to attack with different goo and slime attacks. When we killed them there creator came to play with us. Turning him self into a monster and using chemicals to bother the fight then as we killed him he pozinded the flag carrier making him drop it luckily the paladin name Mustaang grabbed it.

We went to the next room were there dead people were with a vampire above them as she raised them we saw they were linked in a way so I gave the command to kill them. She flew up to her chamber. We quickly followed and as we got there the doors locked us in so when we were fighting she killed the wizard and turned him into a vampire as he began to call all of his arcane magic into one bolt of purple and blue casting it at me and the other warriors. A warrior named Gottoms charge up a wall jumping of it and killed her in mid air.

The next room we go into we have to kill the dark undead. Then we find a dragon but it wasn’t a dead dragon well not yet any way we need to use its power of healing to save it form the waves of undead attack. When we finished healing it in natural holy waves we keep going were we meat the bone dragon queen when we walked in the room with her she froze 10 of the men and killing then as we charge in she fly’s up into the air firing frost bolts down at us as Gottoms and I charge up walls to get on her back while we cut at her she flails around knocking us of. When we finally kill her. her body drops to the ground and freeze all of the people in the ice.

Then on to the Dark Lord Gokuen. When we get there he was waiting for us when we charge agents him he starts to kill all the men we have. Then he froze me in ice. Then attacked gottoms as they fought for a while showing a display of devastating power. As he stabs gottoms in the chest freezing gottoms internal organs when I broke free I charged him and throwing the sharp blade flying like a boomerang at the dark lord as he deflects it I see a flare burst out of it. Then I charging at him as we sit in the middle of the field fitting he cast a dark spell on me I feel a dark shadow looming over me as I cast a bolt as green and blue hitting him to the grown. I pull my sword out putting it to his neck. I sad to him “you aren't event worth killing you will suffer in a world were you can be killed.” as I walked away from him I feel a paralyzing feeling to my back I look back at him. I see him casting a spell with dark Aura swarming around his hands then delivers his final bolt to me as I fall I hear him say “ you were worth killing ha ha ha ha” and that's why I'm here in the after life now. As the game over sign flashes and I get turned back into Sean.

Game start. Dark lord gokuen loaded health low. “Now that I was humiliated by that low class druid now its my tern that stupid blue flag” as he spits a dark flaming bolt on it igniting it in a flash “I know were that Little camp they call a Base I will Bern it to the ground. Arise my undead knights”. With a flash of lighting black bones and decaying flesh gets up.

“Mustaang yells Why should we resurrect him it will make us no different form that slime of a empire gokuen” “guild master commands back yes but if we don’t then we won’t be strong enough to fight back agents his dark forces we don’t need him you insolent boy you don’t know what we need” “Mustaang yells back yes I do Kalazar”. “Kalazar yells Oh and were is that young Mustaang” “Mustaang I’m just saying that we don’t need him” “Kalazar you know nothing boy your gust a kid” “mustaang fine resurrect him I will be going then ill take down the dark lord by my self” “Kalazar you will die and he’ll resurrect you as a mindless slave” “Mustaang then so be it.” “Kalazar Arise champion arise and fight once more for the guild” in a bright yellow flash of holy power Ox kin gets up and proclaimed we need to get this base ready for war.“Ox kin slime of a wrecked you will pay for the lives of that you slain” with a flash of natural light terns into a bear charging him. Kalazar throws Ox kin a guild battle stand. With a flash the screen goes dark and I feel normal once more.

I think if you play a game or something enough. you start to feel like your in it. This is why I think if you play a game enough you feel like you start to live it. But it is a just a game. But its just for fun not to talk your life up.