Ride House Descriptive Writing

The Ride Home

When I stepped out from under the dim lighted patio, I had only two things on my mind: Clay Matthews and a ride home. I wish I possessed all his striking qualities. Big muscles, long hair, with that ever lasting look of determination and resilience glued to his face, but hey, my looks aren’t so bad. At school I am considered big, tough, smart, and very similar to Clay Matthews. I have blue eyes, broad shoulders, and hair long on the top but shaved on both sides. I find it not too shabby.
As I sat on the creaking splinter filled steps, I stared expressionless into the sky. It was a blue skyed afternoon, the time I do not know, due to my wish of being able to stay outside and bask in the sun all day. It hadn’t been this beautiful out since last September. Birds chirping, sun glaring, ocean glistening, what more could one ask for? Suddenly I hear a rustling of leaves and heavy footsteps. I burst around, but it was too late. Faster than one could react, I was out within a

“AARRGGHH!” Anxious, worried, and scramming for my life, I made way towards the wide forest drive road. Of course, there was nobody on the road, due to it being 3 AM. Heart pounding, arms pumping, legs striding, I wasn't able to recall any point in my life where I had ran faster than this. I could still hear the man about 10 feet behind me, chasing me with the same steel bat he had used to knock me out cold about 2 hours ago. After continuous sprinting and hurdling through many objects standing in my way, a thick, wavy cornfield was visible. Immediately, I thought to myself and might just be my ticket to survival. With no hesitation, I then began running towards this ticket and lost myself in it. I then lowered myself into a squat position as to not make my head visible. Panting, exhausted, and terrified, I heard a stomach dropping noise in the