I first saw Bron J. when I got transferred to a new school called Preston High school couple of years ago. My parents moved to a new town and I had to go with them even though it was the last thing on my mind at that time‚ I was very upset and it seemed that the world came to an end without all my friends specially my best friends and without all of the girls I used to chat with. I was very nervous about my new school because it wasn’t ordinary school compared to my old school which was better.
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Paddling for our lives we headed back into the open sea from our unfortunate visit to Cyclops Island. My men and I were terrified of the events that had occurred over the past days‚ it was a miracle that none of us had gone insane yet. With what sanity we had left we sailed for about six days according to our crew members that had been counting the days since the death of our fellow flute player. I think they really miss the guy...Well‚ I know I miss him‚ he was one of the best flute players in Ithaca
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Woke up this morning and this was in my head immediately.... so I’m sharing it. Same program‚ same disease. A VISION FOR YOU PG 151-152 of the big book For most normal folks‚ drinking means convivi- ality‚ companionship and colorful imagination. It means release from care‚ boredom and worry. It is joyous intimacy with friends and a feeling that life is good. But not so with us in those last days of heavy drinking. The old pleasures were gone. They were but memories. Never could we recapture the
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The disaster The blue‚ sunny sky turned dull and gray very quickly in the last 5 minutes of the 17 year old‚ Malorey’s life. She was watching t.v and the screen went to pure static. Her sister‚ Lucy was in her room studying for a test that was worth half of her grade for 6th grade. Soon‚ the narrator on the radio came on and informed‚ “Attention all New Orlean citizens‚ please evacuate the state in the next 15 minutes! A category 5 hurricane is coming!” Hurricane Katrina was the 3rd strongest
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It was a day like every other in the busy city of Seattle. There were rain clouds above that made it gloomy. It looked like the perfect scene for a horror movie. Annabel "Red" Jackson was sitting in her room on this day listening to Stressed out by Twenty one pilots. The reason they call her "Red" is because she always has a red hoodie with a small heart right above her heart that she got from her grandmother on. No matter what the day is like. It could be one hundred degrees out and she would still
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Under the Rug I was unpacking my toothbrush in the bathroom when my daughter yelled‚ “Dad get over here! NOW.” I hurried over to see her looking at her phone. I read what she was looking at and I completely regretted buying this house. I should have known by the broken windows and the weeds that covered the fence and door. When I read the document on her phone I wanted to hurl‚ and I had to leave as soon as possible. The document said that back in the late 1700s our earliest relatives lived here
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The Crack Of Dawn.....By Dean Fearon Walking‚ out of the door‚ I saw the moon in the distance. Harmlessly‚ I stood there sobbing the moon‚ was glistening as bright as the sun would and It was so luminous I could see the reflection of myself and the monstrous red creature in the shadows of the snowy woods. I couldn’t think straight as the scenes of people being murdered replayed over and over in my dismayed head‚ and the sounds of dogs howling
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The Graveyard Shift You know things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to when you work in a morgue. [a]I could have been a lawyer. Or maybe a journalist. Anything‚ really. I laugh. It’s funny how I’m already having a midlife crisis. The sound echoes hollowly around the morgue. It bounces off lithe gray walls and sharp corners‚ completely out of place around the pale skin and lifeless eyes. The emptiness hangs in the air accusingly‚ reprimanding me for invading the cold silence.[d] The
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A Healing Wound A few years ago‚ My school took a trip to Washington‚ D.C. We got to visit many historical monuments that were even more breathtaking in person‚ but the experience at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial will forever be embedded in my mind. It was a beautiful day in Washington‚ D.C. our school had just walked over from the Lincoln Memorial and we were approaching the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I did not have very high expectations because I didn’t know anybody who fought or died in the war
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Mr. and Mrs. White stood staring at that deserted road for what seemed like hours. Mr. White still clutched the monkey’s paw tightly in his fist‚ his knuckles pale from the strain. He could hear his wife sniffling softly‚ wiping her face with the edge of her nightgown. He tentatively reached over to reassure her‚ but her trance seemed to be broken by his movement. “WHY?” she shouted‚ still in hysterics over the incident. “That was our son! How could you?” There was no reply from her confounded
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