What would be a good place to describe?
A place that I can make the reader feel as if they are there.
A place with a lot of details.

The bathroom... or any room in your house.

Does it have to be a real place, or can you make it up? If you can make it up, imagine the "perfect place" you would like to be. If it must be a real place, or somewhere you've been before, just remember to include specifics; smells, textures, colors, lighting, temp, etc. Remember objects have different textures and temperature - for example, if you use the bathroom, as the above poster suggested; the toilet is smooth and cold and shiny. Maybe it smells like bleach, maybe it needs to be cleaned! Think small; start in a corner of the place, and move around, listing every detail you can think of.

I'm a beach bum, so I'd pick the beach to describe! :)

Do you have a favorite park? A garden where you live? Maybe that special place by a river? Some place that you can easily close your eyes and see and hear and smell everything about it. Describe what you know best. Then it is much easier to "hook" your reader into your description.

Thanks every one. I decided to do it on a house that burnt down.

A Cold Fire

To any stranger of my town, visitor, or passerby the remains of one hundred eighteen Chicago road was just another scorched house, it means nothing to them except that a fire happened ?oh too bad, But to the kids from Parkview elementary school, Central middle school, and I; it means much more. That burnt apartment building to us represents something that was taken from us much too early, something that should not have happened, and something that will never part from our memories.
I breath in the freezing cold air, and make my way down Chicago road, I see the charred apartment building, half falling over with enormous icicles hanging from the gutters and a wave of initial shock comes over me. It was hard to believe that just twenty four hours ago this frozen igloo was engulfed in flames. Yellow caution tape surrounded the scene making it seem more official and realistic, like the scene of a crime. The snow crunches underneath my feet, and then it stops. I am frozen, not with cold but with fear. Fear that if I get any closer I will have to face the harsh reality that this is all very real. A single tear slips silently down my cheek making my face even more icy then before, my legs seem to involuntarily drive me toward this place of sadness and desolation. The whole scene itself looks even from a distance horrendously ugly. There is half a house with dirty snow surrounding it, pieces of wood are still falling from the walls, everything around it including the trees are covered in ash.
Finally after what seemed like hours I am staring up at the massive murderer, the wind pulls at my jacket threateningly, and I hug it around my body even tighter. I glare through a window of the old apartment into a seemingly endless black abyss of a living room, and a chill runs down my spine. I circle the house engrossed in the pure horror of it all. The windows are a peculiar shade of gray, like there is still smoke filling the inside. The once all white house paneling is black as if left to long on a grill, the porch stairs are crumbling away, and they look like they are cruelly daring some brave soul to try to climb them. I quickly duck underneath the caution tape to get closer to the house, my heart is pounding, and my palms are sweating despite the bitter cold, as a deep sadness fills my body. The house is looming menacingly in the darkness. Like a inconsiderate, heartless monster. I gently lay down my bouquet on the bottom step of the porch next to the others. There is a wide variety of items, many flowers of course, a couple CD?s, a snoopy stuffed animal, and one large poster that everyone had signed. As I signed my name on the poster, a powerful feeling of despair and depression came over me, this was real.
I sink down in the snow letting it surround me like a cool, glistening blanket, I close my eyes and ignore the growing wetness on my lower half, I let myself be taken away with memories. They all flood my head at once, every conversation, game played, and class spent together come rushing back. I remember elementary school like it was yesterday, the teachers, the classes, and the new kid in third grade with a big nose, smiling lively eyes, an extraordinary personality and a cool name. I took a particular attachment to this boy, it has stayed with me all through middle school, high school, and even now. We were friends but everyone was friends in elementary school, I was wishing now more than ever we had stayed close longer than we did.
A harsh gust of wind pulls me back into reality, my eyes pop open, I am shaking and my cheeks are wet. I breath in realizing that just last night Charlie Brown was here taking his last breath in this same chilly air. I breath in deeply again, and the potent smell of burnt wood and ashes fill my nose making me resent space heaters and fires even more than I already did. I gaze up at the burnt to a crisp apartment building one last time, and allow myself to completely cry. I turn away and slowly start walking back toward my car, hoping that this will be the last time I ever have to say goodbye to someone through a burnt down building.

What do you think?
Is Grammer OK?

I really like it. Can hear the sounds of your feet and how the crisp air catches your breath. The grammar needs a bit of tweaking. Is this for an assignment? Hope you get a very good grade, if it is.

Like Shy said, it needs a bit of tweaking, but it is a really lovely piece of writing. I'm impressed!

My daughter says thanks..
Its her essay for college.
She went over grammar with my sis who's a teacher and made corrections.

True story by the way...

I suspected it was. It has that kind of emotion in it.