Required Blog Entry #1: Description ( English 1 – WFV1)

In 2-3 sentences (or more), provide a visual description of:

        11:59 pm. His shivering hands started to hit the individual keys of the keyboard:  starting from a slow pace, moving fast, then going slow again; erase some parts here, add a few touch there, then erase the whole sentence again. His mind was flying: he couldn’t concentrate on anything. It looked like he just run a 10-km marathon: he is sweating all over. But just when all he need to do is to click the word “post”, his cowardice got the best of him. He deleted the whole post, his whole confession message for his long time crush that was supposed to be the first on his crush’s timeline on the day of her birthday. Minutes later, some other guy got the lead and stated the most emotionally moving birthday message for her. Now, even after all these years, he still couldn’t fathom to look at the couple, both wearing the immaculate shade of white as they say their vows face to face with each other, hands holding each other’s, eye to eye, on the day of their wedding.

Your favorite animal
        My favorite animal can’t talk. He has this cute little mouth but he never used them to talk nowadays, perhaps he just couldn’t speak like we do. His hair is the bright color of orange: it reminds me of sunflowers in a beautiful morning on Aunt Margaret’s countryside house. He has this teary look in his eyes that’s a very heart-warming sight in the morning. He, however, is not very fond of me: whenever I try to approach him, he’ll simply run into the corner. I guess he’s just shy. But then everything change when the police found me. They say that I am a crazy person. They even accused me of having a mental disorder. I don’t! They even took him away from me; my sweet little baby boy. Oh, and I forgot to tell you: the reason my pet can’t talk is because before– all he does is to scream all the time, begging me to set him free. So I took the biggest needle in the sewing box and stitch his cute little mouth to the way it is now, at least before those meddling police officers removed it.


In 2-3 sentences (or more), try to describe:

What you hear upon waking in the morning
        My alarm clock is broken, but I don’t have to worry about it. My friend is always there to help. Every morning, between 3:00 am to 6:00 am, he would growl on my ear, which means that it is nearing or already time to get up. His growl is something identical to a sharp wailing: like nails being scratch along a blackboard or a squeaky shoe running along a newly polished floor. But he is also quite elusive, I have never caught him after I open my eyes, but I know he’s there. I can always hear the sound of my closet closing with a loud thud every time I open my eyes in the morning. My friend is very helpful. My alarm clock is broken, but I don’t have to worry about it.

The “sound/s” of happiness
        My therapist told me to kill people. So the next morning, I fetch my shotgun from the hidden compartment and with a loud bang, the obnoxious giggling of those children playing outside are forever gone. When my wife saw what happen, she started to scream and freaked out. I can’t describe how much I hate her scream or that voice when she’s mad; when she thinks that her words are the only thing that is correct in this world. So for once, I stood up against her and decided to minimize her volume, a little bit, by slicing her throat with a butcher’s knife. I was suffering from depression, but not anymore. Now, I have found my happiness: my quiet peace of mind. Because my therapist told me to kill people, or rather, “remove the toxins in your life“.


In 2-3 sentences (or more), provide a gustatory description of:

Isaw or other street food
        Just thinking about the soft and crunchy feeling of meat inside my mouth makes me salivate; the fatty taste of marrow that can only be tasted by sucking the bones. After frying the meat, sometimes I would add flavours of seasoning that would give the meat its salty and sweet flavour of a chicken. I really like street foods: that’s why every day, just after the sun had set, when the time high school students are coming home from school, I would always park my car by the side of the road. I would then pretend that my car won’t start and is in need of someone to push it from behind: I would ask the teenagers. Just when they’re not looking, I would hit them hard in the head with a crowbar. Oh, just thinking about the soft and crunchy feeling of meat inside my mouth makes me salivate. I really like street foods.

        Tessa doesn’t want to be the second best. In elementary school, her best friend and childhood friend Emily is always the best and the batch valedictorian. Tessa is not amused, her parents either: they’re mad and chastise their child for it. A few weeks before their graduation in high school, Tessa gave Emily a cupcake. Emily took a bite, ” Wow! You’ve improved, it tasted like it’s from a gourmet pastry shop!” she said and finished eating the cupcake pleased with the sweet taste of strawberry  and the bitter sweet taste of dark chocolate for it’s other half. That night, Emily started to feel something metallic at the back of her mouth, she spit it at the sink: blood. Emily started to feel light-headed and later fell to the floor, with the corner of her head hitting the sink. Tessa doesn’t want to be the second best.


In 2-3 sentences (or more), provide a tactile description of:

When you dip a hand in a sack of rice grains
        The police officers kicked their way through the house. No one is inside, but they’re still required to look the whole place for evidences. One officer stumble upon a hidden opening to a basement and inside is a sack of rice grains. The officer dipped his hand in the pile of rice grains. Taking a handful of fine rice grain in his hand, some of which slip out of his hand like a sand while most pronged his tightly closed hand; nothing is out of the ordinary.  Inserting his whole arm into the sack next, his hand felt the tight compression of the rice grain against his whole forearm, and then he felt something strange. Something hard, with a hole– two holes, and a sharp cuspid graze his fingers. He pulled the rigid object and is terrified when he realized what he’s holding… a skull.

The Friendzone
        Laura was always the weird kid, that’s why no one wants to play with her. So when she grew up, she built her own playground. She invited the kids from her childhood, who bullied and isolated her, to play with her in her new playground. They would arrive in tight handcuffs with bags over their head. Laura, being the playful ‘friend’, would play games with them. One time, she decided to play hide and seek with her old friend, George. It’s simple, George would have to hide in an abandoned building, and Laura will have to find him. So he hid inside an old cabinet, he can feel the constricting atmosphere inside the cabinet, like someone is choking his neck. The rough feeling of old wood in his hand is like running his hand in sandpaper. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see the loose nail inside the dim lit cabinet, causing him to yelp, and that’s when Laura found him. She slashed his arm with the chainsaw that she’s holding, causing George to release a tormented scream as his arm fell on the floor, twitching and jerking a little. She then proceeds to amputate all his limbs. Just before he pass out, Laura reveal the scissor in her pocket and stab George’s left eye, prolific amount of blood runs across his face. Laura really loves her playground, her friendzone. Laura was always the weird kid, that’s why no one wants to play with her.


In 2-3 sentences (or more), try to describe the smell of:

Your surroundings after the rain
        I am the shadow that lurks by the side of your eyes. I hate the sun as much as I love the smell of blood. The shady path by the abundance of trees is my home. I prey on unsuspecting women who are naive enough to cross in my territory:  I bathed on their metallic-smelling blood. But what I like the most, however, is the rosy smell, somewhat immaculate, fragrance of virgin ladies, that is as sweet as nectar and as dearie as a lamb. No words to accurately describe the throbbing smell that fuels my hunger on dusky days when the sun is covered by dense black clouds of rain after a heavy downpour of storm.   

        The smell of Christmas is the same every year. The air smells like dust, destitute is rich by the breeze. The aroma of alcohol lurks in every corner, perhaps her father spent the night drinking again. She and her father were the only ones left in the house, after her sister left them for her boyfriend. It is still early in the morning, the child still has to work or they will have nothing to eat by dusk. She put two garlands of jasmine lei around the picture frame containing an image of a woman with curly hair, like hers, and wished her a merry Christmas. She then made her way to the church of the black Nazarene.  At least, the fragrance of flower by her hand is something compare to the numbing smell of nothingness inside their house. As she cross the busy street, she failed to see the over speeding vehicle going in her direction: the next thing she knew, she’s walking across thousands and thousands of flowers; flooding her nostrils with sweet and luscious, like a honey or a candy; in a vast flower field and a woman in the middle, arms open, hair wavy like the sea; waiting for her.


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