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The extremely cold wind sent shivers all through my body. Opening the door to a red building shape like a barn, I felt the warmth as I enter. I notice canning jars filled with grape jelly and strawberry jam, sitting through out the room. Old photographs of trains, people, towns, and old baskets hanging on the wall. Sitting on the shelves are artificial red flowers, green vines, old dishes and jars. In the middle of the room sits a glass cabinet with perfectly backed pies.
Blue and gold curtains toppers hang on the windows with blinds. There are lights on the ceiling and some are hung on the walls. The walls have a marble look that matches the tabletops. Both are trimmed in dark wood. The waitress is carefully caring trays stacked with dishes.
People are engaged in conversation waiting patiently to be seated. There are ladies dressed in color coordinated outfits with jewelry to match. There are s variety of different shapes and sizes of people. People are dress in many different styles and colors of clothing and shoes. I hear shoes squeak with each footstep as people walk across the floor, also I hear the scraping sounds of chairs being moved back and forth. There are people laughing and eating at the same time.
Noisy children are slurping their drinks. Parents are talking to their children about staying up too late. A lady ask for a fork that is not bent. My own silverware scrapes on the plate I eat. I listen to dishes clanging as food is being prepared and served. I hear the tinkle of money being dropped into the cash register drawer.
There are lovers whispering softly which comes across like they are mumbling. There are some people complaining about how long it is taking for their food, while others comment on how good the service is. I inhaled the deeply aroma of the food makes my stomach growl loudly. I can smell the steaks on the grill and chicken frying.
The aroma of coffee brewing fills the room. The smell of pies and rolls baking in the oven made my water. The honey and the syrup that sits on the tables smells sweet. The combination of smells make it difficult to decide on my menu choice. After standing for awhile, I appreciate the soft comfortable seat as I sit down. I take a sip of hot coffee and it scalds my tongue.
I call my mouth with a quick sip of ice water. I wipe my mouth with a soft napkin. The warm plate keeps my food hot. The white mashed potatoes with brown thick gravy have a soft texture as I put it into my mouth. My golden fillet of fish is crispy on the outside and flakey white on the inside, I can taste the various spices in which it was prepared. The lemon in my glass of tea taste sour.
I can feel a breeze when people come in and out the door. The fruit in the cherry pie was a combination of sweet and tart. As I explore my senses this has made my dining experience more pleasurable. "; " 85 "; " 531 "; " 1019693241 "; " 40298 "; " 8 "benz"; "Blood Red Snow"; "Blood-Red Snow The cool winter day was as calm as one would expect for the middle of November in the Rockies in Colorado. The wind blew slowly and peacefully throughout and in-between the tall pines that were scattered all over. The first snows had begun early, high up in the mountains, and in some places, the powder snow mounds were already as much as ten feet deep. A few animal tracks could be seen here and there, but with the slow but steady drifting of snow they were mostly covered.
About two thousand feet up the mountains lived a lone man, a generally quiet man, whose eyes were like daggers, his face like steel, strong like an ox, and an expert rifleman. He wasnt too shabby with a pistol, either. His name was Keith Black. Having been born in Colorado and near to the Rockies, Keith had explored them and grown to love them early on in his life.
He loved them so much that he went to live up in them after completing high school. Keith didnt really like people that much. He was twenty-eight years of age and looked it. He had few friends. By now, he knew every nook and crevasse of the mountain he lived on. He knew a little about other mountains, but not a great deal, not enough for ordinary survival.
There was a small, narrow road, which he had made himself, leading to his cabin. On this road, a small red truck slowly rolled along. Keith knew exactly who it was. It was Grant Starting, his only high school friend.
Keith watched from his front porch as the truck finally pulled to a halt in front of his small brown cabin. Grant opened his pickup door, got out, and slammed the door. He started walking over to Keith, the deep snow crunching heavily under his thick boots with every step. Hows it going? asked Keith. Not bad, you?
replied Grant as he ran his fingers through his short, blonde hair. Not doing that bad. Say, do you have the money? Money? Oh, that money, said Grant nervously, I thought you said I had another week to pay you off. Nope.
Sorry Grant, but Im afraid you are long overdue for payment, said Keith, an evil gleam coming into his eyes. N- no, cried Grant desperately, taking a step back, I swear you said I could have more time! Keith reached behind his back and under his belt where he kept a concealed. 44 Cougar Magnum, fully loaded with jacketed hollow points. Pulling it out he casually flicked back the hammer and put a good firm grip on the handle. He was tired of playing games with Grant, even though he was his friend. But even friends must pay their debts.
Something disastrous could happen. Besides, he was Keith Black. Nobody messed with Keith Black and walked away bragging. Nobody. Grant turned and ran to his truck.
He opened the door, being narrowly missed by a bullet from the Magnum that Keith had just fired. Grabbing his Uzi, which he kept for show mostly, and a few clips, Grant tried begging for his life. Please, Keith, at least let it be a fair fight! Lets go at each other squarely. Keith pondered that thought for a moment.
He could kill Grant easily and he knew it. Also, it would probably be fun. Alright, Keith said finally, you have 30 seconds to get as far away from here as possible, then Im coming after you. Now get going! Keith squeezed off two shots into Grants tires to make sure he wouldnt have an unfair advantage. Grant ran for his life, snow crunching heavily with every great stride.
He was running for his very life. He had to get away from Keith. At all costs. Keith went inside to retrieve his hunting rifle.
He loaded a full clip into it and checked the scope. Then he reloaded his Cougar Magnum. Everything seemed fine. It was go time. Keith walked outside and saw clearly the prints Grant had left in the snow. He started jogging along a path that he knew would give him a clear vantage-point w...
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Research essay sample on Snow Crunching Heavily Blood Red Snow Keith
