"Belonging to place creative writing" Essays and Research Papers

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    David Velonà We cannot belong without understanding our identity Through the hot‚ cloudless days in the back of North Queensland there is always something beside the sun watching you from the sky. Over the line of the hills or above the long stretches of plains‚ a black dot swings round and round: and its circles rise slowly or fall slowly‚ or simply remain at the same height‚ swinging in endless indolent curves‚ while the eyes watch the miles of earth below‚ and the nine-foot wingspan remains motionless

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    Dog Trek Creative Writing

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    My growing dog who love to mess up things My dog Trek was two old when I got him. He was the size of my hand with three different mix of colors‚ which are brown‚ grey and black his coat shines as the sun hit his fur. Trek also love to just rip into things that was just uncalled for. I tried to find ways to stop him but I was barely around. Trek was the first puppy I have ever gotten. I’ll spoil him just for the fun of it. I could not believe how small he was. He was nothing but the size of a tennis

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    Equestrian Ignoramus Another witty title could be Butterflied Boy‚ but I’ll stick with the aforementioned. Often on our PA excursions‚ we’d venture over to the nearby horse ranch‚ and punch a few doggies and saddle up. (Why did ranch hands punch their dogs?) It was another nice culture shocking day out. Ahh!...The nice potpourri of Pocono pines and horse shit. The shit smell assaulted your nostrils‚ but amazingly you got accustomed to it. As all of us kids screwed around and

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    are enemies inside and outside. I think we’ll fall again like we fell before the king came to our land.” The King of Messiah gazed at Lady Allisterd contemplatively. “What else do you know?” “That’s all I know‚ Your Grace‚” answered Lady Allisterd. “But if you release me‚ you’ll find me more helpful.” “Why were you sentenced to death?” he asked. “My father was sick so I went back here to take care of him. Then a fat Lord coming from the north came to our house and asked about my husband.

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    The Greek air was crisp and cool breeze ruffled up the colored leaves that cluttered the ground. Soldier Aturmica stopped for a moment. She closed her eyes‚ and allowed her senses to amplify; from a deer chewing while grazing the fields to a leaf falling on the ground she heard it all. “What’s the hold up?” Realizing that she was not in her own world she blushed. She was holding up the rest of the soldiers behind her. “Are we there yet?” Another asked. “We keep heading east‚” The commander

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    Why do I come running back to you all the time? You aren’t a good lunch lady. In fact‚ you’re extremely rude. But you always make the best mystery meat. Always topping it with... Cheese? Or is it onions? I just can’t get enough. Doris‚ I might propose to you so I can eat this mystery meat for the rest of my life. I catch a whiff of the meat as it lands on my tray. The best smell in the world. I deliriously walk back to my seat at the lunch table‚ consumed with love for the meat and Doris. Her hairnet

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    This year I decided to interview Mrs. Jackie Hammers‚ the choral director of our Jr. High School. I have a love for music and she was a very inspirational teacher when I was younger‚ so I felt the need to ask her about her job. Mrs. Hammers is like I said a music teacher‚ but to be more direct she teaches 7th grade general music and is the choral or vocal music director at the school. Her daily routine consists of the following‚ taking attendance and watching the morning announcements before class

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    9/11 Creative Writing

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    One of the worst feelings in the world is having all the warmth around you ripped away in 2 seconds‚ and the second worst is it being 4 in the morning. It doesn’t matter what you are doing that day‚ waking up by having your blankets pulled off is not an enjoyable feeling. When I open my eyes it takes me a couple seconds to remember what is really happening‚ I peer around the room and see my mom walking out of my room “Jessica‚ get up‚ you need to get moving or we will be late getting your cousins”

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    The Loss of Wings I will never forget the moon and how it looked especially bright. I will never forget the cold winter’s breeze and how it swept me off my feet. I will never forget the stars‚ and how they appeared to be closer and closer. I will never forget the night of the beginning of the end. That night was only a few months ago. It is amazing how much can change in just a few months. Sometimes I ponder how my life would be if only I had walked away. If only I had maintained my footing

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    “Waaalter! I’m going to the grocery store. I want the laundry folded and dishes washed by the time I get home.” calls Mrs. Mitty “Okay dear‚” Walter replied. Walter dragged himself from the couch into the kitchen and began washing the dishes. He hummed to himself a song that gets him going when doing work around the house. Poketa-clap-clap Poketa-clap-clap-clap. As he was washing the dishes his daughter‚ Little Isabelle‚ ran into the room energized and excited; she kept tugging on his shirt begging

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