Descriptive Essay : ' The Darkness Of The Night '

The purple hue surrounding my eye extenuates the fairness of my skin and makes me stand out more than an elephant in a room. I examine my bloodied, bruised face in the cracked mirror and begin to wash away at my stained skin, watching the rogue substance gurgle down the drain. I delicately wipe my neck with a decrepit rag and inspect the rest of my body for injury, then proceed to clean dirt off of my wiry figure. After I have cleansed my body, I climb into my archaic bed which discomforts my ears of creaky springs. As I start to feel the heaviness of sleep start to overcome my body, I hastily get up to lock my bedroom door; you can never be certain as to what lurks in the darkness of the night.

Sleeping allows me to escape my afflictions. I can deal with my responsibilities another day and I don 't have to deal with what is churning at the complex mechanism that is my life. However, as I wake up, the cold winter chill refuses to let me back into a deep slumber. The coldness pierces my throat and makes it difficult to swallow my saliva. I stand up from my bed with my bones aching from within me and make my way to the kitchen to get glass of water to clear my dilapidated gullet. As I sneak towards the kitchen, the floorboards beneath my feet creak louder than a thousand smashing glasses. I shudder as the cold seems to get worse, or maybe it 's the fact that I may wake up my parents – something that I can hope to avoid at all costs.

I was taken away from my family two years ago and ‘adopted’ into a white family. They reiterate over and over that it’s for my wellbeing, but I can’t stand to think that is the truth in the slightest. I have an abusive father and a mother who disregards me as a human. Through all of my greatest effor...

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... classroom is on the second floor and I staunch my way up the stairs in my long flowing skirt. I enter the relatively large classroom with desks for at least twenty-five students all made out of fine hardwood oak. However, as I glance around the room, I see the regular desk that I sit is not in its usual spot. Rather it’s in the corner, facing the wall. Then from behind me a girl shoves me and says in demeaning manner “failures are like you black people. You aren 't good enough for anything.” In shock I retaliate and slap the girl in the face so hard, it felt like it shook the Earth to its core. I curse to the ceiling, wishing that my life wasn’t the way it was. I march out of the room to make my way downstairs and just as I’m about to take a step down, I slip on a stray piece of paper on the floor and plummet down the stairs damaging all of my body, mind, and hope.