Descriptive Essay - Original Writing

section 1, the dancers join in one by one and move from stage left to

She returned to my backpack, once again sorting the mundane from the forbidden. My Little Mermaid compact went into the biohazard bag. The mirror. Breakable. Could be a sharp. My pulled out my school journal, quickly flipped through it before taking my pen out of it and putting it in the bag. Sharp. My charging cable went into the bag. Could be used to strangle

 But, then my mother came in, with her sleeping mask over her head, and her hair in tight hair curlers.

“A gas mask and seal to the fire grenade was underneath your bed, and it’s an elementary place to ‘hide’ things. The diary was left right out in the open, easily the first thing you’d see, and the poison was the only item in the fridge.”

Surprisingly, the first person I called on the roster was precisely the woman with the mask. When she passed by, I smiled at her, but her eyes evaded mine.

I panicked because I didn’t want her to cry again. I didn’t want her to cry anymore. I told her to stop, but her soft tears went into loud sobs. I started crying because I was petrified. I felt nervous, and my hands felt clammy. My hands were still cold. The rain was still pouring. My brother was still sleeping. But why can’t I be still? I reached my fingertips to her cheek so I could wipe her tears away. At first, she cried even more, but as I wiped more tears, she started to calm down. Then I felt calm. I felt her heavy breathing, her chest heaving from her loud sobs. She finally stopped crying, so I stopped too. She breathed in deeply a few times and exhaled so hard like the pain would leave from her body. Her eyes were on the road, and her hands were tightly gripped to the steering wheel. Her hands were exactly at the ten and two positions. She wore her pretty blue shirt that sheered at the sleeves with small black roses. It nicely clung to her delicate frame. She even wore her favorite hair clip, two flowers with a diamond encrusted at the middle. My mom was so pretty. If it wasn’t from the running mascara, one would think she was definitely breathtaking. Why would anyone make such a pretty face so sad? Why would anyone make my mom sad? I don’t want to see her sad anymore. She felt the intense stare that I was giving her. It probably made her

“Oh nothing mom! Just playing around, nothing else!” I said in return, while trying to control my breathing. I began to sweat profusely. My cheeks turned an awful shade of red. My legs became wobbly like jelly. I never have been able to lie very well. My mom was at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a pink bathrobe with a lime green mask on her face.

She found her mother almost at once. Katherine hunched over, head down, curling hair trailing over her downcast face. Absently cowering as she perched on one cushion of the couch. She must have heard Melanie’s footfall. She casually glanced up for a moment. She was surprised that she viewed her mother as dainty and frail. She felt protective suddenly. Her dark curls knotted as they drooped wadded, and messy, over her shoulders. She wore no makeup. This was a strangers face, a faded, pale, face Melanie almost couldn’t recognize. Her mother always wore the complete line of Sephora makeup, always. Katherine barely shifted her eyes when Melanie approached her. Melanie softly announced herself by saying, "Hi Mom." She waited for a response, nothing. Her mother must not have heard her.

The next day, I see my mom, my favorite person in the house, and get some breakfast from her. She’s a decently sized woman who takes decent steps, as if she could come after you, at any time, and suffocate you in her arms. In her sleep clothes, she looks like a cross between a tired grandparent and a raging bull. She has sparkling

She held up a finger, ran out of the room a few second later she was back and shoved something in my purse. I walked over and took it from her and looked inside. “Mother! I don’t need these!” I yelled.

You look to your mother to see a mix of emotions cross her face in a fast succession. First relief, then hope, then curiosity, and finally her face

“Oh! She’s looking at me! Do you see that?! She’s looking straight into my eyes!” Mom says.

Though she couldn’t see her mother smile, she could hear it in her voice when she said, “Then I guess I’ll go look for that shirt.”

After lunch Saturday afternoon, my mom confronted me and told me that she hasn’t been too happy with my attitude lately so she decided to take my phone away to see if maybe that would help. “What attitude?” I thought in a snotty voice in my head that apparently came out of my mouth at the same time. Suddenly my mom’s expression turned from slightly disappointed to a cold hard stare as she slowly dragged out an “Excuse me young lady?”

It 's the same thing everyday, wake up, drive, sit, and drive back. This life I 've devolved into is rinse wash repeat. This life I 've made for myself is no life at all. The city just a hustle and bustle and more drones to walk by each day. So many people in one city and yet no connection to any of it. Everyday walking into work, looking around, realizing that the connectivity quickly diminishes from our day to day life. The “How are you” ’s become “Hey” ‘s and the conversations become non existent. Nobody cares anymore. Phone call after phone call, paper after paper, it all becomes a blur.