he is very (handsome)
他非常...(帅)
he has (hazel eyes)
他有...（一双淡褐色的眼睛）
he got (hazel eyes)
他有...（一双淡褐色的眼睛）
he has (a round face) with (small eyes)
他有...(一张圆脸）和...(小眼睛)
以下是我们班同学作文中的片段（都是鬼故事）：
A swirling black flash was glimpsed through the trees. Black robes and a long hooded cloak, walking steadily towards the bunch of children. They huddled together, filled with the sense of despair. The cloaked figure circled them. A gasp went up as a boy saw a glinting object sliding from the figure’s waist. He continued to trundle relentlessly towards them. Then he stopped. The black cloak swayed in the discomforting, chilling breeze. Then he spoke.
The oldest, was on the edge of the pack. “Thwack”. The slimly built boy swayed dramatically. His arms limp and his face drained of blood. Drained of life. The blood trickled down from his mouth to his chin. He fell to the floor, a sharp pinecone needle embedding itself in his glazed, open eye. It was only then they saw the sharp knife stuck in the back of the slim boy’s head. They looked up. They saw them. They were surrounded. No chance of surviving.
“What? What do you mean?” I demanded. “What I mean is that I do not want you to suffer.” I didn’t understand, I really didn’t. He said “The reason I don’t want you to go is because they took my soul. My soul and the souls of fifty others on the day of the 7/7 bombings”. I ran, I couldn’t take it any more. I kept on running and I didn’t stop. There seemed to be trains everywhere, moving, derelict, abandoned. I ran faster and faster, jumping and bounding up and over sleepers and old tracks. Then I saw him. Him and the fifty others.
“No, nothing…” Suddenly, all the light had gone, except the candle, the candlepower was wavering unruly in the darkness; outside the house, the wind was howling loudly and forcefully, bump into the window, trying to break the window, once…twice…and the third time, the window had been broke, the white curtain was swinging. The wind had come in to the house; it broke the offbeat silence inside.
“That person…?” His gaze glued onto the man before him. Then, it was as if a lock had clicked open, his gaze now moved onto the other figure. There, standing next to him was an angelic looking woman. She had waist length wavy, russet coloured hair. Her long dressing gown hung loosely from her body. He tried very hard to remember where he had seen her but was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard another sorrowful, mournful cry.
He gaped as he saw him grasping a knife tightly in his grip. His hazel eyes glowed as he forced himself up closer and closer to her. His hand rose higher and higher. The corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. Her lip body fell onto the ground. Her eyes no longer begged for forgiveness but gazed, dull and lifeless, the scarlet blood-oozing out from the fatal cut on her white neck. The vicar dropped to his knees. A gush of wind blew, sweeping the clouds away, revealing the black, velvet blanket and the silver rimmed moon.
Light pierced the gloomy rooms, cutting through the darkness. A bony figure moved beneath the bed sheets in one of the rooms. A skeletal head peeked from under the crimson stained covers, his eyes alive with fear. His legs emerged, cuts covering them. He suddenly ripped the bed sheets off, violently throwing them to the ground. He stood up, his face was distorted from slashes and bruises. He had nothing on except for a pair of ripped jeans.
The man nudged him towards the door whilst loosening his grip slightly. He tried to wriggle free but the man had a tight grasp around him. The man angrily kicked the flaking door open, the harsh sunlight blinding them. He violently pushed the boy to the ground and focused on his eyes reading his thoughts. He suddenly looked pleased with himself, as if he had come to a decision. His hand fumbled in his pocket, searching for something.
The grey haze covered the silent countryside and a few crickets could be heard chirping, along with the rustling of the parched leaves. Miss Swan was standing under an old oak tree, waiting for her partner at her part time job. She looked to her right but only to see the depressing fog hiding the green landscape. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she swiftly turned her head to meet a pair of brown eyes.
Suddenly, she heard a faint sound of heavy breathing coming from the reflected image in the mirror. She peered at the glass saw herself breathing hard, it was so real she felt as though she really did have a difficulty breathing. Her eyes were glued to the mirror and stuck to her reflection. It was growing dark. She heard a bang from down stairs but couldn’t move. She didn’t know what was going on. The mirror was causing her to hallucinate, suffocating her. Suddenly she felt two hands dragging her away from the glass. Mark’s face was pale as he watched Mary struggle to get her breath back. he is very (handsome)
他非常...(帅)
he has (hazel eyes)
他有...（一双淡褐色的眼睛）
he got (hazel eyes)
他有...（一双淡褐色的眼睛）
he has (a round face) with (small eyes)
他有...(一张圆脸）和...(小眼睛)
以下是我们班同学作文中的片段（都是鬼故事）：
A swirling black flash was glimpsed through the trees. Black robes and a long hooded cloak, walking steadily towards the bunch of children. They huddled together, filled with the sense of despair. The cloaked figure circled them. A gasp went up as a boy saw a glinting object sliding from the figure’s waist. He continued to trundle relentlessly towards them. Then he stopped. The black cloak swayed in the discomforting, chilling breeze. Then he spoke.
The oldest, was on the edge of the pack. “Thwack”. The slimly built boy swayed dramatically. His arms limp and his face drained of blood. Drained of life. The blood trickled down from his mouth to his chin. He fell to the floor, a sharp pinecone needle embedding itself in his glazed, open eye. It was only then they saw the sharp knife stuck in the back of the slim boy’s head. They looked up. They saw them. They were surrounded. No chance of surviving.
“What? What do you mean?” I demanded. “What I mean is that I do not want you to suffer.” I didn’t understand, I really didn’t. He said “The reason I don’t want you to go is because they took my soul. My soul and the souls of fifty others on the day of the 7/7 bombings”. I ran, I couldn’t take it any more. I kept on running and I didn’t stop. There seemed to be trains everywhere, moving, derelict, abandoned. I ran faster and faster, jumping and bounding up and over sleepers and old tracks. Then I saw him. Him and the fifty others.
“No, nothing…” Suddenly, all the light had gone, except the candle, the candlepower was wavering unruly in the darkness; outside the house, the wind was howling loudly and forcefully, bump into the window, trying to break the window, once…twice…and the third time, the window had been broke, the white curtain was swinging. The wind had come in to the house; it broke the offbeat silence inside.
“That person…?” His gaze glued onto the man before him. Then, it was as if a lock had clicked open, his gaze now moved onto the other figure. There, standing next to him was an angelic looking woman. She had waist length wavy, russet coloured hair. Her long dressing gown hung loosely from her body. He tried very hard to remember where he had seen her but was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard another sorrowful, mournful cry.
He gaped as he saw him grasping a knife tightly in his grip. His hazel eyes glowed as he forced himself up closer and closer to her. His hand rose higher and higher. The corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. Her lip body fell onto the ground. Her eyes no longer begged for forgiveness but gazed, dull and lifeless, the scarlet blood-oozing out from the fatal cut on her white neck. The vicar dropped to his knees. A gush of wind blew, sweeping the clouds away, revealing the black, velvet blanket and the silver rimmed moon.
Light pierced the gloomy rooms, cutting through the darkness. A bony figure moved beneath the bed sheets in one of the rooms. A skeletal head peeked from under the crimson stained covers, his eyes alive with fear. His legs emerged, cuts covering them. He suddenly ripped the bed sheets off, violently throwing them to the ground. He stood up, his face was distorted from slashes and bruises. He had nothing on except for a pair of ripped jeans.
The man nudged him towards the door whilst loosening his grip slightly. He tried to wriggle free but the man had a tight grasp around him. The man angrily kicked the flaking door open, the harsh sunlight blinding them. He violently pushed the boy to the ground and focused on his eyes reading his thoughts. He suddenly looked pleased with himself, as if he had come to a decision. His hand fumbled in his pocket, searching for something.
The grey haze covered the silent countryside and a few crickets could be heard chirping, along with the rustling of the parched leaves. Miss Swan was standing under an old oak tree, waiting for her partner at her part time job. She looked to her right but only to see the depressing fog hiding the green landscape. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she swiftly turned her head to meet a pair of brown eyes.
Suddenly, she heard a faint sound of heavy breathing coming from the reflected image in the mirror. She peered at the glass saw herself breathing hard, it was so real she felt as though she really did have a difficulty breathing. Her eyes were glued to the mirror and stuck to her reflection. It was growing dark. She heard a bang from down stairs but couldn’t move. She didn’t know what was going on. The mirror was causing her to hallucinate, suffocating her. Suddenly she felt two hands dragging her away from the glass. Mark’s face was pale as he watched Mary struggle to get her breath back.