A Beautiful Place
A Beautiful Place
Everyone has their favorite place, if it’s in their heads or in real life. This is about one of my favorite places. This place would be the place I’d always go to whenever I had the free time. Even if I didn’t, I’d take the project I was working on and finish it there. No one ever went to the place or did I tell them where I was going so I was all alone in complete solitude. I used to live on a farm, out where no one could see. When you step outside you will see never ending acers of farm crops, dry land, and small patches of woods scattered at the edge properties. However, there was a trail biking trail a couple miles away despite the lack of people. I would go to this trail every day, alone. On my walk there I would memorize my surroundings, the cracked abandoned roads until I knew every pot hole and split in the pavement. To both of my sides were deep, dry ditches with knee high grass that sways in the wind. These ditches were rather ugly, spots of the grass were dead with chemicals or hideous weeds would pop out making the ditch look even more unkempt. Only on occasion would a car bounce by me, making me snap out of my self-consumed dream, scaring me to making me cautious. That didn’t last very long, I’d slip right back into that comfortable place where if felt like I was invisible. I’d continue to stare at my feet, only paying attention to the ground under them. Then, look up for a second to see how far I walked or where my next turn was. Right next to the opening of the trail was a giant house. This house was four stories and twelve windows just on one of the faces. This house intimidated me, the flacking paint to the missing stones one the chimney. I always felt foolish walking fast to escape the presence of this house, but the way is sat there made it look like it was alive, watching anyone that passed by. I made sure that a kept away from it because I thought if I got too close it would come alive and attack me. This again
Everyone has their favorite place, if it’s in their heads or in real life. This is about one of my favorite places. This place would be the place I’d always go to whenever I had the free time. Even if I didn’t, I’d take the project I was working on and finish it there. No one ever went to the place or did I tell them where I was going so I was all alone in complete solitude. I used to live on a farm, out where no one could see. When you step outside you will see never ending acers of farm crops, dry land, and small patches of woods scattered at the edge properties. However, there was a trail biking trail a couple miles away despite the lack of people. I would go to this trail every day, alone. On my walk there I would memorize my surroundings, the cracked abandoned roads until I knew every pot hole and split in the pavement. To both of my sides were deep, dry ditches with knee high grass that sways in the wind. These ditches were rather ugly, spots of the grass were dead with chemicals or hideous weeds would pop out making the ditch look even more unkempt. Only on occasion would a car bounce by me, making me snap out of my self-consumed dream, scaring me to making me cautious. That didn’t last very long, I’d slip right back into that comfortable place where if felt like I was invisible. I’d continue to stare at my feet, only paying attention to the ground under them. Then, look up for a second to see how far I walked or where my next turn was. Right next to the opening of the trail was a giant house. This house was four stories and twelve windows just on one of the faces. This house intimidated me, the flacking paint to the missing stones one the chimney. I always felt foolish walking fast to escape the presence of this house, but the way is sat there made it look like it was alive, watching anyone that passed by. I made sure that a kept away from it because I thought if I got too close it would come alive and attack me. This again