Descriptive Essay : Autumn And Disanje

The short story, “Doe Season” written by David Michael Kaplan is about a young girl’s loss of innocence and hesitation towards womanhood. In this story, the protagonist, an eight year old girl joins in on a hunting trip with her father and some friends. During this trip, Andy learns that being one of the boys may not be what she aspires after all. A few literary elements Kaplan uses helps readers better understand the story while reading such as, the characters, setting, and symbolism.

She ran as fast as her feet could take her. The moonlight weaved in and out of the branches illuminating spots she could reach. She did not dare to turn back to look over her shoulder because she knew it is how the killer always got the victim. Her white slip teared when it got snagged against a branch. Her fingers gripped the silk material and held it together by the tattered seams. She quickly began her escape once more and found a clearing from the icy branches.

The howls of swaying leaves cut through the grisly night. The only light ascended from the moon, though it was barley visible amidst the trembling towers of trees. Branches of wrinkled wooden limbs creaked and groaned as they swayed to the sound of the wind’s whispered secrets. Exposed, contorted roots sprung from the ground desperately trying to escape from the ravenous demons that dragged them down to a more hellish fate. Tortured screams of those doomed to a punishment of fire and brimstone erupted from within the deafening quakes of the woodlands, and the deep cackles of a hag could be heard faintly after.

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

My shoelaces whipped at the backs of my ankles, urging me forward. Rain-drenched, I ran. I had felt the venom of desperation before, but never of this caliber -this was its purest form. It tasted of whiskey. I 'd never been fond of whiskey. The branches of the fir trees scraped against my cheeks and I forced myself to feel each individual needle. I deserved as much. His voice laughed “Come find me” amongst the trees, echoing throughout the forest. It was a wet winter, as wet as one would think a winter could be with Washington 's climate. I slipped on the moss coated roots and sliced my right cheek on a jagged rock. By midnight, it would all be over.

Breathless, Alex ran through the forest. It was twilight, normally his favorite time of day, but this golden hour took on a malicious tone. These woods were full of weeds, slippery moss covered stones , and twisted, thorny vines. Alex’s foot caught on a snarled root, and he tumbled onto the cold dirt. Alex sensed something was amiss, and he knew The Beast was growing ever nearer. As Alex lay sprawled on the forest floor, a single thought ran through his mind. “I’m done.” with the will to live draining from him. Alex lay still in the dirt and leaves resting for his last time. The soreness in his legs was so unbearable he wanted the release of death; craved for it even. “Thump”....... “Thump” The Beast's feet approached slowly and

WILLIAM stood at the crest of a valley and stared down over his orchard. The trees stretched out in both directions in long, perfectly straight rows. The sun cut a path through thin, wispy tendrils of fog, and shimmered off morning dew that clung to the leaves and grass; the entire orchard glimmered. The apple trees reminded William of his former students at Beacon Academy, attentively arrayed before him, hanging on his every word. A crisp, late-October breeze swept across the valley, offering a subtle hint at the approaching winter chill. The trees were bursting with red and green apples, the branches bowing under the weight of the bounty. Men and women moved methodically between the rows, using three point ladders to reach the upper branches.

I weave in and out of the last of the summer apple trees, beside the deep pool, the weeping willows cry out as the wind rattles their bones. The howling tempestuous wind carries me into a clearing where a little girl, with her hair like an inferno splayed around her head like a delicate band, lies asleep in the silvery moonlight. I fly right up to her and land on her chest, where a scarlet black rose lies dead upon her breast. I wake up. I don’t know where I am.

Though she is weak, she struggles. I whisper soothing words to her as I carry her through the woods; if only she could understand that no harm will come to her by my hand. When she goes still, my heart twists in my chest. She has not left this world, I realize, but is staring at me with an intensity that makes the heat of fire seem dull. This is the first day that I have ever held a life in my arms, and it shakes me. Her soul is laid bare before my eyes, and I wish to shelter it from the snowfall. She does not see this, and though my words may be futile, they carry weight.

Today, the weather was very humid and warm outside for mid-October. It was a comfortable temperature outside, so I decided to take my fall jacket off because I did not want to be too hot as I was walking around the market. I’m estimating that it was approximately mid to low 20’s in temperature today, so whenever a breeze arose, it was refreshing because it was pretty warm outside. I decided that today I would take a walk through the dessert sections of the market before going to sit by the outdoor firepit. There were many vendors selling fudge and pastries, so this was something I purchased because I was heading home that afternoon and I thought my family would enjoy these treats. The firepit was not turned on today because it was fairly warm outside, but I still decided to sit in one of the Adirondack chairs surrounding the firepit to take in everything that was happening around me. It was very busy at the market around this time because it was the weekend, and everybody was taking the opportunity to spend time with their families outside on the warm fall day. I also noticed an older man performing a compilation of folk songs on the guitar, and a small group of people huddled around the area listening to him perform. I started to become restless after sitting in the chair for about ten minutes, so I decided to continue walking to one of the buildings at the farmer’s market. Throughout my childhood, my parents would usually take me and my sisters to St. Jacobs Farmers’

It was like two hands intertwining together when the moon’s light peeked through the gargantuan sycamore trees. We are on the treacherous run to freedom, and I am eager to get there. Because of my bistered skin, I was shackled and cuffed, and forced to work in a field my whole life without my family. If all goes well tonight, I will be a free man who makes his own decisions instead of having everything forced upon me by an austere master. It seems like we had been running for days and my feet had never felt pain this agonizing until now. We slid through the woods like a snake slithering towards its prey until we began to hear voices. They echoed through the trees and would not stop. Ducking behind opaque bushes, we waited for the signal

Misty dew covers the entire surface of the field. The yellowing corn stalks stand erect and proud until my grandpas tractor comes to end their growth. Autumn slowly weaves its way in and leaves a stain of brilliant color in its wake. Not everyone enjoys such colors, but when you take a second to step outside your doorstep, and look at all the wonders that surround you, you’d be surprised at how marvelous the world can truly be. To me, Autumn is a time for relishing in the colors. Soaking in the oranges and reds while sitting by a warm fire. It’s a time for remembering that everything does end, but it does not have to end in the dreadful way we think it will. Autumn is a time for the closeness of others to keep out the chill of the morning and the starry-eyed darkness of the night.

I find this to be a deeply enjoyable poem. I take delight in it, even

When one thinks of a ballet they hear soft rhythmic notes and see elegantly dancing ballerinas softly tip-toeing around the stage. This is also what people in early 1900’s expected to see when they planned to attend a ballet. However, a couple of motivated artists in 1913 literally planned to change the design of ballet, music and dance forever. On May 29, 1913 a ballet named The Rite of Spring premiered in Paris, France. The original title as it translates from Russian to French is; Le Sacre du Printemps, meaning the rite of spring, but the literal translation from Russian to English means “Sacred Spring”. The ballet and music were composed by Igor Stravinsky, with the help of Nicholas Roerich, who proposed the general idea behind the

Spring, the time of the year where everything is a little more beautiful and lively with color. There are so many things I love about the spring season: pastel colors, flowers, and of course, Spring Break. However, there is one thing I don’t enjoy about spring; the infamous ‘Spring Cleaning’. Every year my mom goes on a cleaning frenzy and has me help her clean the entire house. Everything gets thoroughly cleaned and organized: drawers, closets, bags, boxes. However, this year was different, I did not find the cleaning so painful. “Emily, come look at what I found in my closet,” my mom calls from the other room. When I walked into the room she had stacks of pictures laid out on the floor in front of her. There were years and years of memories right there on my mother’s bedroom floor that I wouldn’t remember if it weren’t for those photos. I sit and look through the photos and could not help but feel nostalgic looking at some of them in particular.