Chapter 1 Mom’s word stuck me like a lightning bolt. I was so shocked that I forgot to give reaction to what I had just heard. Maybe because a part of me still believed this couldn’t be true. Well‚ was it a joke? I looked back into mom’s eyes. She was still looking at me with pitiful look in her eyes‚ which showed me sympathy. I wanted to ask her if she was joking‚ but then I realised it would be hard to bear the pain if she said no. Instead I wanted for her to say something else or give a reaction
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Once upon a time there was a boy laid in a corner of a dark room‚ he was alone and silent. The only noise was that of footsteps which entered the room. "Macro! Get up you swine" said the man. His voice was very deep and menacing. He wore a redcap with a dark green army suit‚ again he shouted and the boy slowly rose from the floor. “We know that you are involved with a gang of villains called the Mad Catz but where IS your secret layer?!!” screamed the man impatiently “I don’t work with them
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In Aldous Huxley’s Brave new World‚ John the savage is undeniably the most complex character misfortunate enough to be influenced by the dystopian society illustrated in the future. The characteristics that Huxley uses to define John not only add to that complexity‚ but also reveal the inevitable demise of one who has been denatured by the dystopian society- despite moral beliefs‚ knowledge of literature to understand the world‚ and the desperation for self-exploration. In the dystopia of Western
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----------- The Mienshao opened her eyes and gasped loudly. She could instantly feel that she was sitting in a very uncomfortable position in small‚ enclosed space. The ground felt cold and metallic. It was obviously some kind of cage. The Mienshao looked down to her stomach and rubbed it‚ relieved to feel that her unborn baby was unharmed. "Richard‚ long time‚ no see buddy. How’ve you been?" a voice spoke happily. "Dr. Feinburg‚ it sure is great to see you again‚" replied a second voice
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The Chapel I sat in was lined with wooden pews‚ unadorned as befitted the sombre mood. Inside the atmosphere was oppressive and a faint mustiness hung in the air. I was vaguely aware of the murmurs and rustlings of the other mourners as they took their seats. I dabbed my eyes with the hanker-chief as the deeply moving and melancholy chords of “Amazing Grace” began to filter through the stony walls. Ahead of the pews the mahogany casket was polished to a glossy shine and adorned with pale pink
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Antwan Mansour S_113 Announcer: “ C_Copy2 and C_Copy 7 to super stage‚ report now.” “ What do you think all of this is about S_112 ?” “ I have no clue‚ they might have some sickness or might be polluted.” “Yea”‚ every time I talk to her I feel something in me that keeps me attracted to her‚ a bond maybe. Polluted‚ that word struck my head‚ what can it be? Thinking as I was strolling through the corridor until I approached a steel door called stage 3 with a sign saying “no
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One by one‚ the raindrops fell onto my head as I looked out onto the front yard‚ eagerly waiting for the postman to make his delivery. Feeling my hair drenched and frizzing up didn’t make me flinch as it usually did. There was only one thing that could summon that feeling. In the distance I could start to hear the grumble of the postman’s bike. As my ears twitched to the nearing of the roaring sound‚ I immediately got up off the veranda and paced towards the front gate. It was only a minute later
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thriller and adventure. The Victorians viewed quests as a means to tell stories in their own viewpoints using their own words. Two of the most prominent writers of the Victorian Era‚ Mathew Arnold and Alfred‚ Lord Tennyson‚ are also among the best quest seeking story writers of the Victorian Era. Some of their greatest quest tale stories are “The Scholar Gipsy‚” “The Lady of Shalott‚” and “Ulysses.” In both “Ulysses” and “The Lady of Shalott” by Alfred‚ Lord Tennyson‚ Tennyson speaks about people who
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It was a beautiful fall weekend; the sunlight shined enough to provide just the right amount of warmth to make it the perfect picnic day. I was on my way to meet my parents for the annual South Florida Police and Fire bar-b-que. I knew that there was a chance that he would be there since a good part of his family is fire fighters. I have been organizing‚ planning‚ helping‚ running‚ and attending this event ever since I can remember‚ and there had only been a few times that he showed up because the
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Ramazan was a thirteen years old boy. He was at a secondary school in Hüyük. He was very clever but he was also naughty. Ramazan was the only child of the family. He didn’t have any sisters and brothers‚ so he sometimes used to feel himself alone at home . He had only a few friends from school but after school he didn’t have enough time to play with them . Because his friends stayed in a dormitory and they had to go to the dormitory after school. Only they were free at weekends. So on weekdays
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