Decriptive Writing (formative)

The Climb

An endless climb towards the top. Every brick stacked on top of each other was uniquely its own. I counted 886 bricks to the top but it was most likely more than that. One of the bricks that caught my eye was the 53rd brick, this one was special. Most bricks had already crumbled into pieces but this brick was as if it was recently built in. The untroubled surface was pure perfectionism. It was a symbol for what was to come at the top when you finally finish the endless climb. Some pieces of the stairs had the colour of caramel and others of normal sand, you could imagine the caramel colours pieces to be the burned parts of a cookie. The opinion of whether or not those pieces taste good varied between every person. It was exactly the same with the different coloured pieces. Some people found the uniqueness and conflicting aspect of it beautiful and others simply did not. I was someone that was astonished by the stairs in every way possible. I loved how the stairs complimented the sky and the colour combination made it seem for a slim second that you might be at a beach. The blinding rays of sunlight were truly captivating and if there was anything that could motivate my climb to the top it was that sun. I could only dream of what was up there but there was one thing that was certain, life was up there. From the corner of my sight I could see green strands of mother nature itself, tree branches.