Descriptive Essay: My Hero's Journey

3am like always. Street lights lined the still moderately busy street as I ran towards the only person who loved me. Huffing and puffing, I reached the large iron gates which bordered the centre of death. The cold concrete filled my vision, grey like always. Some had intricate designs. Some were mountains displaying their wealth and some were just simple with only the letters as a symbol of their live.

As I walked towards the brown murky river, I passed others who once walked this earth with only the writing on their stone to memorialise them. I passed the criminals, who were hung at boggle road goal for their despicable crimes against the people of Brisbane. The earthy, rich aromas filled the frosty night air as large oak trees stare down

Searching. Trying to find those 2 words were near impossible, my eyes were not very capably tools. They were dug into my face, ovals tilted, oddly shaped. I scared everyone who passed me on the street, children especially.

I always sit directly opposite the Brisbane Arcade, every lunch time. It's one of the best time, so many wealthy business men come for lunch. The Brisbane Arcade is so beautiful it reminds me of my mother. Pristine, perfect and peaceful. Something which was loved by all. It wasn’t me. People try to avoid eye contact, but my face was born to draw attention. It was different, very different. My helmet was my life saver, a layer of protection to rescue me from glaring eyes.

As I refocus I find my mother's grave it gave little description of her life, her legacy. Like the flowers next to her grave, they were a weed then and a weed now. People try to pull them out, ignore them, dismissing the beauty which they are. Mother was never destined to have a place on the mantelpiece or have a nice gravestone but I worked hard. I loved her when everyone tried to get rid of her. Her plot was right by the river, cheapest. Every time it floods I am separated from her and she