Descriptive Essay: A Short Story Of Nixon's Home

It started off as any day should. The children ran about the playground screaming and laughing. The birds chirps echoed throughout the forest over the silent hills. The paperboy dropping off the newspaper.. The sun awoke proud and happy shining rays of itself through and throughout the world. The moon descended into the darkness that lay below. The city was glowing happily, everything was perfect. That was until the letter arrived.

The sleek rusty metal of the Oliver mailbox was pressed upon as it’s door opened. Out came the dust as the wind blew swiftly upon metal container, but in came something infinitely more special. The letter. The crisp golden letter bundled in an envelope decorated with stamps and symbols of all sorts. It was placed delicately in the mailbox for fear of imperfection or punishment. The neighboring youth watched as the man inserted the

An average middle class family trying to make a difference. It was a one story house filled to the brim with everything they might need. Usually there would be small hand-crafted wooden desks in the middle of the hallway. The once shiny wooden floor turned dark and dirty once the war started. The first thing Nixon noticed was the kitchen. A mess. As usual. Except it wasn’t kitchen utensils scattered about the floor, it was tools. Building tools. However, one particular thing stood out. A machine. A extravagant indistinguishable figure resembling that of a toy gun. Copper wire ran across the side of the smooth glass cone. It was another failed attempt at creating a weapon to end the war. At least he dreamed.

Nixon seated himself carefully at the kitchen table. The shiny white kitchen appliances mixed well with the smooth gray circular table. He pulled out the newspaper and began reading it. May 16, 1948. That was the first thing he saw in the top corner. Below it was the headline; Scientists Begin Developing New Experimental Equipment to Aid the Ongoing