English Language: Composition Rose Halstead
2. Descriptive
Jolting head on the glass, the sense of slowing movement, eyes lazily flickering open. A
fake voice asking calmly for the occupants to leave, just for a short while, nothing to
worry about.
A collective sigh is heard from the sea of waterproof coats and backpacks. The huddle
begins to form a line and file off the sticky school coach. A deep, indulgent breath of
fresh, cool air. One, two, three steps and I finally take in my surroundings. As I venture
further from the safe bubble of the bus, the light chattering fades and all I can hear is
silence.
The sky is hazy blue dotted with faded purple clouds, that make the air feel unsettlingly
calm and the world feel still. There is a mass of cerulean ice laid out under my feet. The
glaciers in the distance, scattered on mountain sides, make the landscape look like an
alien utopia, somewhere unknown but still familiar. The mountains look like carboard
cutouts dripped in tissue ice and paper trees, they look like they should be impossible.
I look up to see silhouettes stranded at the top of a distant mound, thinking that just
possibly we are not alone out here, only to realize that I know those people; girls from
my class who have wandered just a little too far. This makes me feel just a little smaller
compared to the seemingly infinite extending land. The land is incomparable to anything
anyone has seen before. It just never seems to end. I can make out the curvature of the
earth on my left side. On the right, the lowering sun washes the world in a golden hue.
Sitting on the rough rocks, I can feel every curve and edge with my hands, I can feel the
thousands of years that have eroded this one rock.
Girls are running, talking, playing like children half their age. There is little more to do in
this restless expanse. A girl looking for a lost phone, another making an SOS out of rocks
(a futile but entertaining idea), some just sitting captivated by the location like me.
A low rumble in the distance breaks the serenity and there is collective sense of relief as
the coach is gently raised and the wheel is replaced. However, a feeling of wistfulness is
found amongst the girls. This landscape was our paradise for hours, and it is hard to let
go of the view. I sit for a few more stolen moments as a huddle reforms and shuffles
towards the bus. One last clean breath taken in and I am back on the bus, head against
the window, listening to the grumbling of the engines, watching the impossible
landscape leave me far behind.
2. Descriptive
Jolting head on the glass, the sense of slowing movement, eyes lazily flickering open. A
fake voice asking calmly for the occupants to leave, just for a short while, nothing to
worry about.
A collective sigh is heard from the sea of waterproof coats and backpacks. The huddle
begins to form a line and file off the sticky school coach. A deep, indulgent breath of
fresh, cool air. One, two, three steps and I finally take in my surroundings. As I venture
further from the safe bubble of the bus, the light chattering fades and all I can hear is
silence.
The sky is hazy blue dotted with faded purple clouds, that make the air feel unsettlingly
calm and the world feel still. There is a mass of cerulean ice laid out under my feet. The
glaciers in the distance, scattered on mountain sides, make the landscape look like an
alien utopia, somewhere unknown but still familiar. The mountains look like carboard
cutouts dripped in tissue ice and paper trees, they look like they should be impossible.
I look up to see silhouettes stranded at the top of a distant mound, thinking that just
possibly we are not alone out here, only to realize that I know those people; girls from
my class who have wandered just a little too far. This makes me feel just a little smaller
compared to the seemingly infinite extending land. The land is incomparable to anything
anyone has seen before. It just never seems to end. I can make out the curvature of the
earth on my left side. On the right, the lowering sun washes the world in a golden hue.
Sitting on the rough rocks, I can feel every curve and edge with my hands, I can feel the
thousands of years that have eroded this one rock.
Girls are running, talking, playing like children half their age. There is little more to do in
this restless expanse. A girl looking for a lost phone, another making an SOS out of rocks
(a futile but entertaining idea), some just sitting captivated by the location like me.
A low rumble in the distance breaks the serenity and there is collective sense of relief as
the coach is gently raised and the wheel is replaced. However, a feeling of wistfulness is
found amongst the girls. This landscape was our paradise for hours, and it is hard to let
go of the view. I sit for a few more stolen moments as a huddle reforms and shuffles
towards the bus. One last clean breath taken in and I am back on the bus, head against
the window, listening to the grumbling of the engines, watching the impossible
landscape leave me far behind.
