Have you ever heard the story about the New York sewer alligators? I see some of you have. Well‚ the story goes like this; A family in New York decides to relent to their children’s requests for alligator pets. This‚ of course‚ is a terrible idea. The family either releases them into the sewers in purpose‚ or the gators escaped‚ depending on who you ask. Either way‚ there’s now a bunch of alligators in the New York sewers‚ striking fear into the hearts of the waste management service. How about
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Story 1: AGENCIES CONFIRM TRANSFER OF PDAF TO FAKE NGOs The Senate Blue Ribbon Committee continues to investigate the pork barrel scam‚ a system of kickbacks for lawmakers and public officials. Subsidiary agencies of the Agriculture Department are in the hot seat‚ revealing some of the scam’s complex layers. Ayee Macaraig reports. The pork barrel scam unravels. This time‚ subsidiary agencies of the Agriculture Department come under fire. Former heads of the National Agribusiness Corporation
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Detective story Once about 2 years ago I read out to my cousin a detective story. It was the story of an English magazine for children. The plot began at 11 o’clock when the inspectors telephone started ringing. The inspector picked up the phone and said‚ "hello". The person on the other side of that call informed about the murder of the rich man in that town. The police inspector was shocked to hear that. He immediately asked his constables to follow and went to that rich man’s house. When
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First Love The poem ‘First Love’ is about experiencing young love for the very first time. Firstly‚ Clare uses many forms of figurative language such as metaphors‚ personifications and hyperboles to show the negative impacts of love throughout the poem. Phrases such as his “face turned pale a deadly pale” and “stole my heart away” show this. Love shocked him as if he was a dead ghost and as if life was taken away from him. At the beginning‚ he mentions‚ ‘I ne’er was struck before that hour’‚ telling
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Epic Story I’d like to call upon the fiction gods to empower this story to be extravagant. The cold storm carried on with its overwhelming booms from the thunder shaking the house from the outside. Terrified‚ the blond haired Juliet sat in the corner of her darkened closet attempting to go unnoticed by the intruder stalking around her house. She sat there hugging her legs‚ praying that he wouldn’t hear her soft whimpers of fear. She listened quietly to the footsteps walking around her once safe
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all shapes and sizes scattered around the play area‚ the soft spoken words of story time given by a friendly face‚ stains from spilt glasses of grape juice that overrun the carpet‚ and endless numbers of shelves that envelope any remaining space on the walls. This could only be described as my daycare‚ Sunshine Oaks. While we all crowd around the teacher‚ mesmerized by the tale about pirates‚ the story comes to an end. We get settled down and lead into the nap area where we all know what is our
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Ghost Story Every one of us has a fear‚ something that scares us day in and day out‚ whether it is realistic or fictional. Some of these fears never truly come to life for us while we live in fear‚ hoping for them not to happen and some fears truly come to life before us and destroy us. This was the case for Rick‚ who had an extreme phobia of ghosts. He was tormented throughout school‚ never given a break about this fear. Rick would always be dread going to out because of this‚ even going trick-or-treating
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the whole book. Without the help of my group I would not been able to figure out the plot or the whole point of the story. Also throughout the story the main character change his view on the world around him‚ I however did not pick this up and when we went to go and discuss the section they helped my out. Without them I would have never been able to figure out the point in the story. During these few weeks I learned what my abilities where as a group participant. I found out that I was a good sharer
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PART 1... I wasn’t always like this. Well‚ I mean…I WAS‚ I guess. Maybe my eyes were closed. Maybe my eyes were just...lying. But the FEELING was always there‚ constantly bubbling in the dent of my chest. I always felt that my insides were too big for my skin. Like any minute my skin would start to separate and let out my organs and my bones‚ which were dying to escape. I was a water balloon‚ on the brink of exploding‚ saturating the hands of whoever was dumb enough to keep filling me‚ testing
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Creative Story- Stuart Hamilton I felt the air brush through my hair as I made the brisk escape from the hellish gates of the John-Smiths High school. I spun round in a quick one hundred and eighty degree turn to try and check if anyone had seen me make my escape or if anyone had been approaching to try and stop my quick climb over the small tattered aluminium fence held loosely by a few loose nails and screws. It seemed that today was going to be one of the few lucky days where my planned escape
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