Football Coach Descriptive Writing

I rose up to steal another glance, but when I stood, my eyes met sight with a pair of predatory eyes. Startled, I dropped down in a cold sweat. Had the witch seen me? My heart began to thump wildly in my chest. The image of the face etched deep into my mind. It was gray and prune-like with large ocher eyes framed by bruised circles. Should I run? Get help—but who?

Who? You! Came the chastening voice of my football coach. Get up and do something, you pansy wipe. What? Are you a tinkling, little mouse!

My face screwed, even in my imagination my football coach was verbally aggressive. I dismissed the thought, but coach Bullog was right, I had to get in there—and quick.

Rising from the ground, I promptly headed for the front door. I popped my

The inside seemed surprisingly warm and welcoming. There was a handsome stone fireplace, red cushioned chairs, and a little wooden table. Above me were garlands of bright red, peppers and delicately placed autumn leaves, that were somehow preserved. It looked like something straight from a fairy tale.

Just then, a cackling echoed throughout the walls. I looked down and saw traces of shadows from the next room shifting across the floor. Creeping forward, I followed the dancing obscurations and passed through a closed door. Immediately, I found himself surrounded by steam and standing in what appeared to be a surprisingly spacious, medieval looking kitchen.

Straight ahead I spotted Gemma, sitting in exact position next to the wavy, golden-haired girl I had seen earlier. There were two others, I observed now, two twins, sitting on opposite ends of each other. The twins both had freckled skin and long red hair. They sat stiffly with petrified expressions.

Busy at the counter, I spied the backs of the three witches. They busily worked away, chopping, ripping, and gutting.

“Gemma, what’s going on?” I said stepping forward.

Gemma tore her stare from the floor. “Jared,” she said, surprised by my sudden