Descriptive Writing Task

Categories: Descriptive Writing

Abandoned, dusty and ancient are my only words to describe the house. As I stood by the very rusty gate covered in withered leaves. There it was by my grandmother’s house very old and fragile. Just like her. It went up for sale so quickly; I barely got a chance for a last look around. The rocking chair was immaculate, just how Grandma Betty liked it, as the strong wind blew the dead, dry brown leaves, across the cracked pathway towards the porch, the chair rocked with it.

Very calmly, as the wind howled. I just came back for a few things, my belongings. Already the look of the house had taken me aback, it hasn’t been that long since grandma Betty died and already I feel like I am standing at the gates of a haunted house.

As I stand here, I can just about remember the great Christmases we all spent here. Me, mum, dad, Grandma Betty and Josh.

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Although we had a very small family, Christmas always seemed to be so exciting. Grandma always cooked the best pies, apple crumble… my favourite. She always knew I loved custard with it, and even though mum said not to, she always made it sweet, just for me. The good old days of Christmas at grandma’s house was just great. Now….now it’s just a big old battered house, like it had been there for millions of years. The ugly plants and dirty porch could catch anyone’s attention, looking like that, if grandma was here she would have hated the look of it.

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As I walk through the rusty gates, I get a bit more nervous as I start to walk towards the house, which was once a home. A picture of what the house looked like flashed before me, as I continued up the crooked porch; I turned the weak door handle, which was so fragile it could have snapped. It still smells of home, Grandma’s home. I could just about taste the apple crumble in the air. It’s so fresh, as if she had just freshly baked it. As the smell teased my nose, my eye wondered round the room and I looked at the front room which was once, the sitting room which we all shared our great memory, dusty furniture and fire place covered in damp coal. The water I had once before poured on the fire to put out the fire.

It seemed as if I had done it yesterday, but it’s been weeks, maybe months since I last came here. As I continue through the sitting room, I notice that the rays of sunlight on the stained glass window, try to duck and dart away from the dirt on the window as if they were trying to break-through and enter the house. The colours flicker on the soiled floor, just about making out an image of a disfigured rainbow. It seems quite surreal that Grandma Betty is not here. In this very room. She would be sitting on the sofa, knitting as the fire danced under the chimney while keeping her warm.

As I look at, the same where I had once before spent Christmas, I almost felt lost. The totally dead atmosphere had made me feel as if I was in the wrong house. Memories travel through my mind of last years Christmas and the colours take over me as I day dream, of what this room was like before and how it is now.

I placed my hand on the revolving door, take one last look back, and walk through into the living room. Tick…Tick…Tick… the sound of the old grandpa clock that stood tall in the corner of the room. I could remember that sound anywhere. It always reminded me of the living room, because whenever you wanted peace and quiet, that sound always ticked me off. The decorations still up, glistened on the wall, as I reached to get them off the wall they rustled like the breeze. It felt more home like in here, than any other place in the house. There on the shelf lay my teddy that grandma gave me on Christmas just how it was when she first gave it to me, I put it in the box and lifted it as I walked into the next room.

The chairs surrounded the dining table in the dining room, with the plates and cutlery neatly placed on the table cloth. The crackers torn open, and string all over the table. Just how it was on Christmas day. I could just about remember when grandm said to me ‘et up love, or your food i gon’na get cold’ she always treated me like her little baby. as i walked around the room i could feel the lively atmosphere, and imagine what it was like.

it was about 5.30pm, it was getting dark, i thought it was time to leave as i picked up my box and walked through the dinning room, living room and the sitting room. then there i was standing on the porch, still very dirty. as i walk down the broken steps and look back, at the lonely house as a cold salty tear rounds down my face as i just remebered that grandma is not here to wish me goodbye.

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Descriptive Writing Task. (2020, Jun 01). Retrieved from

Descriptive Writing Task

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