The Longest Race
As Chad Reed pulled into the pits, you could tell just by looking at him that this had been a grueling race. His dirt bike was plastered with so much brown, wet, sticky mud that you couldn’t even read the number plates. His boots, resting comfortably on the foot pegs, were a mess of muddy brown dirt, bright white plastic and black buckles. His riding pants were soaked and covered with mud on the front, while the back remained a brilliant white and blue. His chest protector seemed to have kept most of the mud off of his blue and white jersey, although his sleeves had turned the same swampy brown color as his bike. His goggles hung looped over the handlebars of his bike, dripping the ooze it had saved from Chad’s eyes. His helmet, still on his head, was a greasy smeary brown, save for the thin line of white and blue where his goggle strap had been. Although his body looked beaten, his eyes, peering through the helmet, seemed relaxed and happy. He had just won a very long and very tiring race.
The Hot Fudge Sundae
In front of me on the table sat a beautiful pure white bowl, simple in design, hiding a decadent surprise inside. As I looked inside I saw on the bottom of the bowl a hot, tender brownie loaded with macadamia nuts. I knew from past experience that the nuts had a creamy and smooth texture, almost like white chocolate. On top of the brownie were two firmly packed scoops of ice cream, laying side by side, each one a different flavor. The scoop on the right was a rich vanilla, flecked with dark specks of vanilla bean. The scoop on the left was a dark, smooth, bittersweet chocolate. The scoops were just starting to melt tiny rivers of melted cream down the sides of the hot brownie, pooling on the bottom of the pure white bowl. These scoops of ice cream were draped with a sumptuous, rich, hot fudge sauce. Topping the delicious sauce was an a big dollop of whipped cream that was in perfect contrast to the thick, almost too rich dessert below. The whipped cream was topped with a shower of chocolate sprinkles and finely chopped walnuts. What finally completed this wonderful creation was a perfect cherry, its red juice sending tiny streams down the whole mountain of dessert delight. The contrast of colors, textures and flavors in this dessert appealed to every part of my senses. I could not wait to eat it.
The Adventures of
He was almost fifty and he looked it. His hair was long, tangled and greasy, and hung down, and you could see his eyes shining through like he was behind vines. It was all black, no grey; so was his long, mixed-up whiskers. There wasn’t any colour in his face, where his face showed; it was white; not like another man’s white, but a white to make a body sick, a white to make a body’s flesh crawl – a tree-toad white, a fish-belly white. As for his clothes – just rags, that was all. He had one ankle resting on the other knee; the boot on that foot was busted, and two of his toes stuck through, and he worked them now and then. His hat was laying on the floor – an old black slouch with the top caved in, like a lid.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
by J. K. Rowling
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours.
A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.