It was a bitter night, sleep being kept to a bare minimum. At times I came close to shutting my eyes only to be awoken by the thunderous roar and shakes of barrages from the enemies’ guns. As darkness began to fall my platoon rest period was underway, as we entered our trenches through small dwarf sized doors. Several times throughout the sleepless night I could hear the distant thunder of shells pounding into the trenches. At times I would doubt the safety of my fellow soldiers with death
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As i opened my eyes in the morning i remember catching a glimpse of the vivid being thrown and the sound of foot steps thundering down the hall way. This is when I knew i had been attacked by Kaiden. Even though it gave me a fright I was starting to get used to it, it was to be expected when he was in the house. As I got out of bed to go see the damage I remember seeing this cheeky little face appear around the corner and a evil like chuckle faint in the back ground. This evil little chuckle
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Sarah Portugal Hampshire College Supplement Why Hampshire? Attending a performing arts high school for the past four years, I have been walking a thin tightrope, attempting to balance my variety of academic interests with my artistic passions. I consider myself a singer/songwriter so it would be natural to simply “major” in music, however, I also love reading Judith Butler and hope to study feminist theory. As a slam poet I certainly plan on taking creative writing classes, but, I also
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I am outside the door panting like a dog trying to comprehend where my family has brought me. They said that my house needs to be painted and I need to stay here for a while so I don’t get in the way of the tradesmen. As I walk inside, the scent of anti-bacteria and cleaning chemicals brings back memories of visiting my wife Betty at hospital every single day, while she was living her last moments. Unfamiliar faces in a place where the location is unknown, makes me to feel uncomfortable
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A dangerous night at Phillie’s By: It was a late freezing November night in New York City as I strolled down the quiet windy street of Orlando, having just left from a long day at work. The alley whistled as the invisible force rushed through ruffling bags and seemingly making the night colder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and pinned my arms to my chest to keep it from flying open as a strong gust of wind threatened to knock me over. Far off dogs barked mixing in with the city
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stairs and slammed the door behind him, times when she and his eldest daughter and had argued, back and forth, until their voices were hoarse and eyes were rimmed with red. They argued because they were so similar, he realised, passionate and dramatic and creative and loud.He was different, and so was his son. When the two women, one older and one just struggling out of girlhood, argued, they would escape to the garden, where the yells of frustration would be muted somewhat and there was green for
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Out beyond the line of hills, clothed in forests of gold at this time of year, lies the market town of Stileham. It sits by the crossroads of the old drove road that runs from the hill country to the sea and the great north road, a trade route used for generations of traders heading from London to the provinces. This countryside is bountiful. Rolling pastures with soaring Elms in their hedges, the vase shape upswept and holding up the sky. Nearer the hills the hedges run out of steam and the
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The Call One month ago, I was running out of breath, literally. Each breath I took, I was getting closer to taking my last. My lungs were dying. And while my hope and belief in life were still alive and well, the idea was to get my body to catch up with my faith. This required some work. What I needed was a miracle, a double lung transplant, I prayed every day that angels would finally answer my call and deliver me a miracle. I have always believed in miracles. Since childhood, when I thought
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The crowd was hushed, silent, there was not a sound to be heard in whole the sold out 100,000 seat stadium. In fact it was so quiet that one could hear the subtle thumping of a heart beat and the now seemingly loud rustling of the grass. It was a Saturday night game, the last of the season, and our undefeated football team was to this point an unstoppable force, one of which, teams would cower at the mere speaking of our name. This night we were facing our cross town rivals, the eagles, in a
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After life One day I was sitting on the couch sick just watching some T.V. I turned to this like history channel and it was kind of good. So I sat there and it was actually interesting. They were talking about the after life and death. There was this little boy that had been born and new everything about airplanes. There was this guy that died a while ago and he was a pilot and so was his friend. The little boy would always say that one guys friends name. He would also say that his plain
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Briana Guevara Final Draft of Work One Let’s Save Earth Together The world has changed drastically in the past 50 years, from population and technology to even new medicinal breakthroughs. There have been so many advances in cultures everywhere it’s no wonder people are unaware of serious environmental issues. Such as the billion hectares of earth’s rainforests that have been destroyed in the past 50 years. (Taylor) The rainforests of the world are crucial to thousands of animals, ecosystems
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Spirit of Ad-Venture A journey through my Ad land... Adverts, it seems that there are more of them than stars in the sky. Their purpose, to sell you, the hopefully credulous consumer, products or awareness of some cause or information they feel needs bashing into your thick skull, albeit on occasion, with a not very subtle visual hammer. Over the years I have to say advertisers and their respective art minions have become very skilled. Indeed they have come a long way from the bland, trite
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Jim took off into the distance with a trail of dust whooshing into the air, the 5-mile sunset reflecting off his back. The old windy road narrowed down towards the creek as the sulfur-crested cockatoo was chirping away to him. Jim lived on a property 55km west of 5-mile creek. His family had lived there for generations and generations dating way back to the 1850’s. Jim was now on his own, a widower who was about to lose more than he already had. Jim woke up this morning, got out of bed
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Hogwarts Ever After… the real ending to the epic tale of Harry Potter!!! After Harry’s triumph over you know who, the magical and muggle worlds were safe at last! To be honest, relations between these two worlds had never been better. After the death, of Headmaster Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was left in the care of none other than Hagrid. They knew Hagrid would continue to make the school a “Giant” success! He was
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Here I am in the middle of green mountains that are surrounding me, where the environment is digusting.very disgusting everywhere I go there is animal faeces. Especially cow and sheep faeces ,it’s really horrible which puts me off eating .The weather here is really hot and prickly hot .I’ve never been through a day like this in my life. Where I cannot tolerate anything im already annoyed even though it’s only been 2 hours since I’ve arrived here.This entire place smells worse than a decayed
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Pappas 1 Theodore Pappas Ms. Gay AP Lang/Comp 5 March 2015 Creativity Dear school board, today our world is being bombarded with situations where people of a similar thinking style aren’t able to find a way to efficiently assist in. What these people are lacking is a unique method of creative thinking skills to help assist them in these manners. People develop creative thinking skills at an early age, however society has nowadays created a uniform way of thinking causing these developed
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Critical and Creative Thinking PHL/458 July 28, 2014 University Critical and Creative Thinking Essay 1: A current situation that plagues California that is a public interest to all residence of California is the shortage of water. During the summer months in California it can become hot and water can become scarce. Because of the lack of rainfall California get within the year the rain does not restore water losses from their previous levels especially, when this becomes a normal
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English Creative Writing Homework A tongue of electric yellow lightening snaked its way across the sky, which was thick with charcoal grey clouds. The moon, which was once hiding behind the clouds, came out of hiding and shone a silvery spotlight onto a dilapidated old castle. TWIT TWOO! CREAK! BOOM! Unexplained sounds filled the once quiet air, terrifying any creature which stumbled, innocently, into the castle grounds. A taste of fear hung in the air. Angry icy winds tore through the
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The household is awaken by agonising screams coming from my mother at 2 o’clock in the morning. Dad is running around the house like mad. I can hardly bring myself to lift my feet off the chilly tiled floor this cold winter morning. I rub my eyes a little too much, little stars appear afloat in front of me. My brother, Curtis, is jumping around the house, he’s euphoric. It’s the lack of sleep mixed with the excitement of having a new baby brother. I drag myself towards the aggressively
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Creative story: Every night the image of her conflicts with my mind, depriving its ability to rest as my delicate, weakened body imprints itself on the cluster of cotton and feathers I call my bed. Continually repeating the memory of her leaving me, leaving all that she once loved, and simultaneously leaving me the only one in possession of the secret. The saying “memories last forever” was never significant nor applicable to me before dawn broke over Burundi on June 3rd 1985, triggering
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Qamar Shaker I completely agree with Goldberg’s ideas. I mean writing should be free and simple; it shouldn’t be about big fancy words or poetic approaches. But rather about being creative and entertaining and getting the point across without sounding like an idiot that’s my view on it. I like her rules on it and I just realized that I actually did exactly as she said in my 10 minutes writing. Also she is completely right about having to practice every day as that’s the only way to get good
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Belonging - Short Narrative Part 1: Noah and his Father On a quiet morning, majestic to say the least, the sun rose softly, yet unlike all other mornings, on this day, it embraced a pristine crispness, perfectly complementing the balmy accents of this summers dawn. Pastel orange danced with lilac in the sky, and as light gradually highlighted the earth bound greens, the world seemed to hug together, all elements as one, as family, each entwined with the next, as though made for the
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‘A parents biggest pride is their children’. This is one thing I always stood beside. There is no other love than what you receive from a child. None. Zero. Zilch. I was blessed with two beautiful children - a boy for me to teach a Ngati Kahungunu haka too, to teach him how to use a taiaha and help him master his fierce pukana. My daughter was fortunate enough to get a father who treated her like royalty and she inherited her mother’s gospel golden tones. As soon as you walked into my
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This is home!! (creative writing story) Josie squinted as the bus lurched forward and caught her off guard with the harsh rays of morning sun. It was now 650am and she had been riding the 114 bus for the last 20minutes but forgetton to pack her sunglasses this morning. She normally forgot something when scrimmaging around in half-light packing her bag for the day! It would be easier if she didn’t have to share her room with her snoring (younger) ‘brother’ Jason who complained of needing more
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I glanced at the toy that my parents brought for me, a small symbol of their love for me. My parents are always busy, neglecting me, as they travel around the world leaving me behind in this huge empty house. I stroked the soft fur of the toy my parents bought me, the only companion I have, alone in this isolated house. I vividly remember at that time when we had a maths test and I had the second highest in my class. Excitedly, I showed my mum my result and I thought she would be elated at my
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Acts 26:18 Satan to God Then. November 1999, I remember it as if it were yesterday. Thoughts flooded through my mind as I clenched the gun harder and harder. I faced a pitiless, inescapable decision. A war transpired in my head, a death match between my fear and my conscious. As one callously stabbed the other, my fingertip grew firmer against the trigger. My time was ticking. My eyes shut in hope to disconnect from the vision of my victims fate, she was so defenseless yet so accepting. She
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CREATIVE WRITING(Goes to a prestigious school to expect competition but instead finds out that all the students cheat and cheat, in the the protagonist gets fed up and tries to deal with the situation herself but fails miserably. In the end she is pressured and turns to cheating so she can maintain her high academic standards) (The protagonist is intelligent, in a unstable relationship with her parents) June 21st 2012, the day I transfer schools to Rosekill High. You may or may not know but
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English Creative Writing Practice- Rachel Bonello The sound of chitter chatter and chuckling in the chaotic hallway exploded in my head as I stood before my dorm room doom. I flicked my side plait over my shoulder to pretend the exterior noises from anonymous faces swarming around me weren’t intensifying the self-consciousness swirling around inside of me. I don’t do group scenes. I never did really. The noises muffled as my eardrums focused on the creaking screech of the door as I softly
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Lauren Zalenski Creative writing I'm awake and all I see is darkness. The time is 10:00 A.M. I wonder if something is missing with this picture. It seems as if there is there is barely any light outside. It is difficult to see beyond my hands. I can't understand why this is happening. It quickly gets lighter outside as if something had been blocking sunlight from seeping through the windows. I jump up, look around to see my surroundings. I somehow end up fully clothed and meandering about
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“Woof, woof.” Said Fletcher, thumping his strong tail against the wooden door. I turned around slowly in bed, with my eyes still closed. “Woof, woof, woof.” I heard again. I turn around in my bed and my feet stick out from the cosy duvet into the chillness of the room. My eyes are still closed, though my mind isn’t. It was a cold night of November. Dense fog gathered in the centre of the terrain. Over a ridge to the north, surrounded by rolling hills on each side, a desolate church stood
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