David Salay When I was 7‚ I had short bright blonde hair and intent little blues eyes. I was tall for my age‚ so naturally athletic. I loved to bike‚ play soccer‚ play baseball‚ and do anything else that involved physical activity. I was also a bit of a smartass‚ always trying to correct my superiors when I believed them to be wrong. The combination of these two factors could get me in trouble. One time at this age my friend dared me to moon 7th grade baseball team to distract them. I took up
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TEXTING WHILE DRIVING As an everyday routine Abby wakes up like any other day. She turns off the alarm clock‚ then drags herself out of bed wishing it was already Saturday. She Jumps in the shower and rushes out because her clock was thirty minutes behind and they had called asking if Abby was coming in for work. As she says yes she on her way to the salon she has this really bad feeling in her stomach. Even though she doesn’t know what’s in plan for her today and tragedy that’s going to happen
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needs out of life. Time passes and the love remains..then the big news happens....both realize shes still continuing the bullshit....but again all they do is shrug it off. Knowing that on the inside the hurt tremendously....alone they think about her...about what shes doing with the other..its hard...they both know they shouldnt have forgiven her in the beginning but again...her hook...its what snags you. It wont let go unless she is completly eliminated from your life....from any bit of memory.
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arduous one. I along with my cameraman went along to watch the race which was about to begin. All the formulae one cars lined up in the race tracks. The drivers held tightly onto the driving wheel‚ they looked tensed and eager to race. Suddenly everyone was tensed and caught in a rough silence. Then with the waving of the black and white chequered flag‚ and a gun shot that waved across the crowd‚ the race commenced. There were about a 25 participants. Being a journalist‚ obliviously I felt biased. The crowd
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Pablo etched her face with broad pencil strokes. Two fine lines hinted at eyebrows‚ lifted in a lipless smile. The large eyes were slightly downcast‚ lashes thick and soft. Prominent cheekbones hovered above a thin jaw line and soft chin. None of the features were completely filled in. Only one nostril was finished‚ the eyes were half shaded‚ and light waves of hair framed the sides of her face and neck. Tiny wrinkles at the edge of her mouth spoke of tears and laughter. Pablo’s pencil bobbed
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February 2180‚ I was 20 years old little shaver‚ Earth had become a living hell; earthquakes don’t stop‚ deaths are hastily accumulating ‚ caustic countries had drowned deep in the oceans. It had become a killing frenzy. The media was talking about new shelters available in space‚ it was taken as a fabrication at first‚ but formerly rich prosperous families really migrated to settle in their new homes‚ on new lands‚ on a new PLANET. Unfortunate people like me kept decamping to save their lives on
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Looking out the windows‚ I can see the view of the entire city‚ as if everything transforms to these blurry colorful little dots. Sitting on this shiny leather soft chair in an office that is 57 floors above ground‚ I have just made an announcement about how the tax is going to be raised again due to our circumstances. Every clerk working in this building is still waiting for me to sign the documents that need to be approved by tomorrow. Every time I walk out of the door‚ people greet me with respects
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Blurb Abelina is a wee little petite tot‚ well she was when she was a baby but now she’s 13 and ready to take on the world. If only everyone could see abelina as she is. A young grown women but in some people’s minds she is still a wee little girl. Prologue I can feel the sweat dripping down my body. I feel hel pless. I can’t control the fury‚ the pain inside of me and think that I might collapse. I feel my bones caving in on me. My skin feels buried. It rages with fire. Names are running through
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Treacherous Terrain As a resident of Florida‚ "The Sunshine State" I can vouch that my state does not always live up to the expectations for the nick name it was chosen to represent. Not only are Florida’s meretriciously warm and sunny summer days part of its existence‚ but its days can often be filled with grave and horrifying thunderstorms. When these storms occur‚ natural disasters such as tornadoes and floods beyond belief rampage through our beautiful Floridian cities. First of all‚ an estimated
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Bartleby‚ A Story Genuinely About Him The story of Bartleby‚ The Scrivener in my opinion is truly about Bartleby. In the short story the narrator merely talks about himself to give background knowledge to the reader on the life in which Bartleby is about to enter. From the beginning he says “it is fit I make some mention of myself … because some such description is indispensable to an adequate understanding of the chief character”‚ emphasizing that he is merely there to tell the story of Bartleby
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