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Except this time her eyes are wide open as if, the last thing she laid those rheumy eyes on imprinted itself on her psyche, terrorizing her. Clearly, her breath still smells like dog shit, by how paramedics lean away from her and curl their noses; or, maybe it’s her carpets. All those years of pet stains from Houdini, that…
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The pit of her stomach contorted with disgust. Her bulging, bloodshot eyes burned holes through his burly figure, the shadow of the carpark her cloak of invisibility. All blood and colour had drained from her callous hands, gripping the steering wheel as if it were Taylor Hoffman’s neck.…
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The glistening, white snow fell slowly to the ground outside the window. The distinct shapes of the snowflakes shown; the light from the street lamp seeping through the cracks. The mumble of the heater in the corner of the room; the faint sound of the blood dripping onto the floor were the only sounds. He lay there; motionless. The thuds were entering the silent room once again. The creaking of the wooden floor grew louder and louder. Still the light of the street lamp shone through the window and onto the far wall. The nasty figure walked into the murky room. Only its shadow appeared on the far wall behind it. The boy in the bed was Eli. His tiny eight year old body was red with his own blood. Then……
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Speaker: The narrator in this story is one that readers can feel like they are emotionally invested in. Nameless, aside from alter ego identities received later on, she is an extremely beautiful until her life is changed completely. Freak accident on the freeway leaves her disfigured and with close no self-esteem, invisible to most: a monster. Hiding under a veil, the story is told from the protagonist’s new point of view as she is forced out of the spotlight. Not only does she crumble inside, but her life also collapses around her.…
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On a cold night, a young mother drives home from a stressful day as a social worker. Her love for kids keeps a smile on her face everyday day no matter the weather. The neighborhood was very quiet and a huge wind whistle the crack door of her house. “That boy always forgetting to close the door,” she said. Ms. Emerson open the door suddenly had her worst dream. A young man lying with blood pouring through his chest. She put her hand mouth to stop a loud bursting scream. A river pouring through her red eyes and her heart pounding through her. An awful smell invaded her nostril which cause her to faint but through her mind she is hoping she is having a nightmare.…
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For every Sunday that occurred, a cold and pale body would be found at the top of Desire Street. The corpse would be laying on their back, which was covered with cut marks, one arm would face up and the other faced down. The victim’s eyes would be wide open and a blood mark would be left under their nose. It was a signature left behind from the murderer. Alice Carnen, a young adult, stood around the corner with her mother, both observing the crime scene.…
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So here we are, perplexed as to which path at the fork our author is going to lead us down. We do not have to wait long. She fully stamps this story with despair within the first paragraph, “The sight of them made her so sad and sick she did not want to see them ever again”…
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I thought about the baby that everybody wanted dead, and saw it very clearly. It was in a dark, wet place, its head covered with great O’s of wool, the black face holding, like nickels, two clean black eyes, the flared nose, kissing-thick lips, and the living, breathing silk of black skin. No synthetic yellow bangs suspended over marble-blue eyes, no pinched nose and bowline mouth. More strongly than my fondness for Pecola, I felt a need for someone to want the black baby to live—just to counteract the universal love of white baby dolls, Shirley Temples, and Maureen Peals. And Freida must have felt the same thing. We did not think of the fact that Pecola was not married; lots of girls had babies who were not married. And we did not dwell on the fact that the baby’s father was Pecola’s father too; the process of having a baby by any male was incomprehensible to us—at least she knew her father. We thought only of this overwhelming hatred for the unborn baby. We remembered Mrs. Breedlove knocking Pecola down and soothing the pink tears of the frozen doll baby…
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There lay an ox and a man by its side; a child and a horse found a common grave; women and fowl stained each other with blood. Everywhere dead bodies” Mothers in particular would have felt such despair having their babies snatched from them. These babies hadn’t even had a chance to live a life at all, they were innocent, helpless. It saddens me to think of how those poor mothers felt.…
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I was exposed to Crossfit while I was stationed at Ramstein AB, Germany. Most people take a look at a posted workout or video, of elite Crossfit athletes and get intimidated or scared. They shouldn’t! The workouts that get posted to these sites are made for the more advanced, elite athletes. Crossfit is a new idea and like all new things, you either love it or you hate it. However, Crossfit brings something new to the table which is why many believe it is the better way of life and physical fitness. First, we will look at who started Crossfit and what it means. Then I will describe what the community is and lastly we will talk about competitions.…
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Time was ticking. I shut my eyes as I hoped to disconnect the vision of a girl slouched in front of me, so defenceless yet so fearless. Her face wasn’t completely visible but judging by her figure she was no more then 15. She showed no fright, demonstrating her disgust towards bowing down to the rebels: she remained her posture straight and her head help up high. She looked down upon us even though she was the one on the floor. Her face captured complete hatred. Her attempts to resist were hopeless as two older men forced her down onto the ground. Her arms were tied behind her back so any chance of action towards escape was restricted.…
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There is a quote that says: Mothers are angels who teach their children how to fly. Indeed my mother was an angel who in my younger years I thought was sent here to torture me especially when I wanted to hang out with my friends instead of doing chores or homework. My mother was the pillar of strength, love, and compassion. Mothers may be misunderstood but that doesn’t mean they don’t care or know better.…
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Dunn’s River Waterfalls is one of the best known attractions in Jamaica. Each year, thousands of locals and tourists travel to the falls to experience its many pleasures. I enjoyed the waterfall, sun, food, the water activities that took place, spending time with family and friends, and the local vendors.…
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but bitterly says that the whole world is like the place he is in now.…
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I wait Sitting slouched on an alumium bench , head down. As all mall benches, it lacks a back support. People say this is because many mall owners don’t want people sitting around too long. They want them Browsing and buying. As I lifted my head my pupils dilate to see all that was going on. There is plenty of noise, light and boisterous behaviour. It is ludacris , controlled chaos.…
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