Sample description narration papers
This paper got a 95%:
When it’s 3am and I finally collapse into bed, my icy cheeks flushed and my heart beating wildly against my rib cage, I am there and I believe in that. It is when the only sounds are my unsteady breath and my pulse that has made its way to my ears. The adventures from the night linger, tangled in my shivering tresses. Street lamps outside compose a symphony of soft glowing luster but inside I’m aflame with rapture. It is when sleep couldn’t be further from me and all I can do is think of him and pray with all that I have that my mother didn’t hear me come in.
I’ll swear by the nights when its 7pm and my stomach is like a rock inside me. Shannon reaches through the dark and squeezes my hand and we’re breathing deeply, dust and jitters filling our shaky lungs. From the corner the stage manager signals to the booth, “3, 2, 1… lights up,” I catch his sweet smile for the briefest moment and the lights are up, and they’re blinding and all we know are the radiant colors, skirts spinning madly on, all of us too high to take note of the ache in our legs and the flames in our chests. And we do it loud and we do it without stopping until the curtains fall again and we are bombarded with the syrupy smelling drugstore flowers from our grandparents, a dozen roses and at least four dozen hugs.
I believe in the times that I am all alone and my room is stuffy and airless. My cheeks are stinging from the hot tears that come slowly and leave distressed, sticky, black smudges across my fallen face. When my throat is tight and my head is throbbing violently against my skull. When the only coherent thoughts I can create are, “Stupid, stupid girl, how could you be so naïve?” and I feel claustrophobic in my own skin, like it’s a straightjacket holding me in, confined in the consequences of my own misstep.
I believe in the moment. My passion for the present doesn’t hang in the balance of my mood, or the quality of my day. It’s constant, never falling back with the past or scuttling ahead to the future. Rather, it stands by me like a close friend and reminds me what a privilege it is to taste peanut butter and jelly, or hear my mom shouting across the house, or feel the emptiness someone can leave me with when they’re gone.
This paper got an 80%:
I turn the page of my calendar; I can see it in my sights, the day that I have been waiting for. It has been a long two months.
Each and every day constantly tested.
Brought to the brink of my will, then pulled back.
Sticking to my plan was an easy task; breaking the promise I made to myself, to give in, never. Exercise and proper nutrition, the commitment I made to myself; “to achieve a healthy lifestyle that would fulfill a more exuberant life.” I believed I could change, I believed that I could become healthy and fit. Images of me in the past motivate me, day in and day out, giving testament to my will.
Throughout my journey of becoming healthy and fit people took notice, asking me “How did I do it?” or “What is my secret?” I tell them it was simple: you first have to want to change; you have to stick those words, “I can’t” so far back into your brain that they are completely lost. I took it upon myself, knowing full well, that I will never give up or give in. I knew that just exercising, would not do it alone. I researched for countless days about proper nutrition and nourishment that would lead to the body type I wanted. I was 59 days into a program called “Insanity”, a 60 day full-body transformation.
It is 10 A.M; I look into the mirror, my reflection looks back. I am sweating like an ice statue on a summer day, the salty solution dispersing onto my entire body. My heart beats rapidly like a wolf, sniffing, savoring the meal to come. My lungs scream for air as I regain my breath. It is not fear that grips me, only a heightened sense of things. My hands are steady. Many try to attempt to change but few ever accomplish their goals. I would return from my journey fit and healthy or not at all. I reach for the scale confidently knowing that my hard work has paid off. I take a deep breath. The number is at 0, I stand straight in order to not skew the outcome. A metallic silence cloaks the room. The numbers start to climb. I snap my head downward, 120, 130; it begins to hover around 144. It settles at 145.
I look up and imagine what I looked like before, 50 pounds heavier. That was me going to eat a candy bar; that was me going for round two of dinner or ice-cream. That was me. The smile on my face was like a five year old on Christmas morning. My eyes begin to fill up with tears of accomplishment. I tell myself that it has only just begun, knowing that change can only come if your heart believes it will. This transformation that I have undertaken has now shined light on what I need to do for the rest of my life, to continue down the path of a healthy lifestyle.
This paper got a 75%:
In life there are things we just can’t simply avoid. Death, taxes and problems all fall under this category. Talking about these may be an iffy subject for some because no one likes thinking about the less fortunate aspects of life. Regardless of how you view death and taxes, the overall outcome is always lousy but does that pertain to problems as well? For those of you who said yes, hopefully this will enlighten you.
I guess you could say that the defining problem for me was my childhood. At the ripe age of eleven I was faced with the arduous task of taking care of my alcoholic mother who was almost more elated about beating me than drinking itself. Although this was the brunt of the physical punishment, it was not nearly the worst of what I had to face. I also had to walk four miles to school and four miles back every day because she was too drunk to take me at seven in the morning. Along with this, my daily routine was to stop by the local supermarket and steal any essentials that we needed, including food because after six months with no job, a foreclosing home and an income of zero dollars, things got drastic. It was my job to ensure that we made it, even if my Mom threw in the towel long before.
I guess you could say I was a caretaker, in hindsight that’s how I see it. During the day I was her punching bag, to whom she could get all of her anger out on and then at night I would cook what I could and turn her over once she passed out so she wouldn’t vomit in her sleep and suffocate. I did it because I wasn’t given a secondary option, it was either that or let my mother kill herself and go down with her. Now what if I told you that that was the best thing that has ever happened to me?
It’s all in the way you look at things. Yeah I literally had to go through Hell, but I came out on the other side with two options; let what happened hold me back or let it act as my catalyst for greatness because at that point I had all the tools at my despair. The whole time I was scaling that mountain of an obstacle I was unconsciously learning life lessons and values that I wouldn’t anywhere else. I realized that you can either take everything you can from a problem and apply it to the next one in the hope that it makes it a little easier or let that amazing knowledge fly right over your head.
Problems are a facet of life not to cause us pain and anguish, but to act as a mentor. They single handedly teach us more than anything else because after all, life’s just a bunch of problems fixed onto a chronological timeline.
This paper got a 60%:
I believe in Wranglers. These skinny jeans do nothing good in the world. Guys think it is “cool”, or “fashionable” to wear jeans so tight they can’t even bend their knees to sit down. On top of that they wear colored jeans! What makes guys think it is appropriate to wear purple checkered jeans? What happened to living in a world where guys dressed in flannel shirts, Wrangler jeans, and cowboy boots? Wranglers don’t suffocate everything from the waist down, they come in only blue and they can be worn with any shoe!
I can’t comprehend why a person would want to wear something that is painful to wear. If someone doesn’t wear skinny jeans they don’t a8utomatically become an outcast. People that care too much about being “hip” or “part of the in-crowd” that’s who. Girls are supposed to show off their legs, not guys. It’s just disturbing and completely disturbing. To add to that I could never take anyone serious that is wearing something so unattractive and you can tell in their face that they are not comfortable. It is terrifying that this world has come to this fashion sense that we think it is okay for these poor gentlemen to wear jeans so terribly tight.
The idea of skinny jeans, red ones, blows my mind. The first time I saw a boy with red skinny jeans I practically lost all hope for humanity and respect for him and whoever the nitwit was that invented these horrific pieces of fabric. Then I saw purple ones and I did lose all hope for humanity. Who in their right minds wakes up and thinks something along the lines of, “We have wonderful, attractive Wrangler jeans right now but let’s make guys look completely ridiculous and tell them they look good with skinny jeans!” Wranglers are a perfect fit for a guy. They aren’t even close to being tight enough to cut off someone’s legs but at the same time they don’t sag! These guys that are wearing these skinny jeans have too big of a waist and too small of legs to have the best of both worlds so they have settled with sagging out pants below their buttocks.
A pair of cowboy boots might just be the only thing that could make a pair of skinny jeans even worse on a male. With Wranglers, a pair of boots only could make it look 110% better. Vans, Converse, whatever other shoes guys prefer these days could also be worn with Wranglers. They don’t have to stick to a certain type or brand of shoe. Come on, who wants limitations with their wardrobe?
Guys don’t look attractive, they droop their pants, they’re uncomfortable, they can’t perform daily tasks, what in the world is a positive of skinny jeans! Someone needs to make a stand to this horrific act and show someone what attractive is. Who can go wrong with Wranglers? They, wranglers, don’t harm your body, they’re only blue, and these fashion-less boys can wear any shoe they like! The world would look so much better wearing Wranglers.