Descriptive Writing

John Eaton 10PT

English Literature Coursework

Descriptive Writing

The House was the size of any normal semi-detached suburban home, only in my opinion much more desirable. The freshly laid bricks glistened in the twilight sunset, like a giant colossal ruby, with chunks of highly polished diamonds, which were of course the windows. The great terracotta roof sat perfectly, resembling a large red hat. This was just the outside.

The large majestic oak door was pushed open, immediately hitting us with a smell of fresh Italian leather from the sitting room chairs. The walls looked as soft as butter, but were thankfully as hard as stone, which said something about how welcoming they looked, the newly fitted feathery red Axminster carpet helped us walk silently, and not one floor board creaked as we proceeded to the kitchen, which glowed like hot coals in the radiance of the evening sunset. We were drowned in the sweet smell of handpicked roses, from the garden, with gave a gentle red relief to the bright orange inferno.

We proceeded up the wide regal stairs and we could see the king-size bed through the Edwardian style doors and sat down, to be engulfed in a sea of comfort, which I found it very hard to remove myself. After regaining my stance I inspected the rest of the roomed, grinning at the ecstatic smile on the face of my doppelganger, walking beside me. I moved on to the on suite bathroom, and I could taste the aroma of yet another bouquet of roses on the windowsill above the toilet.

The garden had a wooden shed at the bottom, which ...

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The garden had a wooden shed at the bottom, which resembled a sand stone cave that was surrounded by a great chestnut tree, which gave the garden a gentle shade

This truly was heaven formed in the shape of our new home. Alas it wasn’t to be, as the fire destroyed all, with my hope.

The beautiful home was demolished within two hours of the raging inferno, and the great terracotta hat caved in. The great oak door wasn’t majestic anymore, with the corners charred and grey; the bricks weren’t sparkling with them burnt black with the smoke. The once sparkling diamonds had splintered and glistening shards were littered all over the driveway. I could taste the putrid odour of melted plastic and incinerated wood in the air.

There was no more smells of the Italian leather, and all that was remaining was the metal feet and a couple of screws. The seemingly solid walls had collapsed in parts, and we had to leap over the missing floorboards. The previously feathery Axminster carpet was red no more, it was black, like everything, black and grey, and it squelched beneath our feet from the water of the fire hoses, they didn’t get here on time. In the corner I could see the frame of the bed, through the missing ceiling, and could see the inside of the roof, the rafters poking through. The kitchen was no longer bright orange, in fact, there was no kitchen, just another sea of black swamping out the brightness of my life.

Getting up the non-existent stairs was difficult we had to walk on the edge, looking down into the doom and gloom of the ransacked garage. The bedroom was eradicated, with the only thing left intact was the beds spring inner frame, my doppelganger spirit vanished into the depths of hell, for the moment, I moved out, avoiding the holes in the floor to the door, when a loud SMACK made me jump, another rafter had collapsed. The en suite had lost a wall and the toilet had disappeared into the garden, along with the sink and shower doors.

I next went down to the garden, which was the only thing left intact, although all the plants near by had shrivelled up and died, with the toilet in pieces near the wall of what used to be my only true feeling of belonging.