Enjoy these descriptive writing pieces by your classmates. Look at Avery's very simple but powerfully descriptive ending that shows the mood of her character. Notice 'showing' phrase like " canvas hammock", "...wood moans", or "droopy sails kick into life" in Griffin's work.
The View
By: Avery Riescher
The sun was starting to rise and the sea was as clear as crystal. A calm sea was still and smooth like glass. Bleach-white sales were high in the sky and puffy like a giant marshmallow. The sun was to trying peak through the fluffy clouds. All of the rest of the sky looked like a marvelous water color painting. The deck’s floor boards were decrepit and squeaked when pressure was put on them. Even though they were wood the polish made them sparkle. The sun was half way in the sky and there was an ominous feeling in the air. Dark clouds started to fill the air as the wind was kicking up. A loud roar filled the sky as a bolt of light struck the sky. In a blink of the eye it started to pour down large droplets of water. The rat lines were swaying furiously in the strong wind. Lightning was lighting up the dense, dark sky. Thunder was roaring louder than I have ever heard in my life. I sprinted back to my tiny, dark cabin. Back in England, when there was a storm at night I curled up in my bed and listened to the pitter-patter of the rain. That is what I decided to do.
A Nation of It’s Own
by Griffin Walsh
Sails are down as the Seahawk glides through the splashing waves of the sea. I wake up to the sound of men running about. As I turn in my canvas hammock, the ship is jolted to one side. Falling down, I remember I am aboard a ship and I try to keep my balance. I pull on my torn sailor’s vest and jog outside onto deck.
Stepping onto the decrepit, sea beaten deck of the Seahawk, the wood moans. Looking up, men scurry about in the sails and riggings like scared monkeys running from a vicious predator. I climb up the thick ropes to the very top lookout point and my stomach lurches. The men below me look like small, tin soldiers. The mast seems as if it is a giant, four hundred year old Redwood growing up through the deck. A thousand whips crack around me as I climb even higher. Although the day has just begun, the sun, a huge flaming giant, soars in the sky burning whoever gets in its way. I set to work pulling the long, snakelike ropes that hold up the white sails. The wind blows and the droopy sails kick into life. Bells sound loudly as Mr. Hollybrass yells for everyone to come on deck on deck. I scamper down from the treacherous riggings. The eminent Captain Jaggery steps briskly out from his cabin. A long, unimportant speech follows. After resuming our stations and heading back to our laborious work, thoughts about Captain Jaggery fill my head.
What was it? Suddenly, I recall why the crew and I had come and what we were to do.
