Descriptive Writing


The ranchslider judders open and the cool air hits me. The sweet smell of timber tickles my nose "Achoo!"
Turning around I close the door, blocking the cicadas out. The first-aid kit sits on the shelf waiting to be opened.
Ouch! A mosquito bites me, I slap my leg, then flick the bug off. Oh, I hate those things. Pulling my socks on, I grab a torch and go outside. I shine the torch at the rusty BBQ where spiders creep along it. Ewwww!

Jumping off the deck, I nearly trip over. My feet tremble as I approach the cold, dewy field. Turning numb, I sprint back to the shack, pull the door open and jump into bed. Ah! Nice and warm.

By Heidi

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