After all the seniors and teachers are situated‚ the call us‚ the 6th graders‚ the class of 2019 to come down and start shaking hands. I start walking down with all the other 6th graders‚ feeling like a huge pack of animals all trying to get to the place. After waiting for a couple minutes I start shaking every teachers hand‚ starting with the 6th grade teachers. Most of the teachers look down at my name tag and say “Hi Caroline‚ have a good year”. Every once in
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I asked‚ “What is your involvement with Mr Inman?” “Me? Well‚ none. I told you‚ I read about him in the paper.” “What about the church?” “I told you about that too‚ didn’t I Bernie. He writes those letters to the Chronicle defending SecuWisdom. The guy’s free to write any letters he damn-well wants. It’s a free country.” I said‚ “Megan Hooper asked him to write the letters. That’s what Inman says. Brags about it‚ in fact.” “Yeah. You said that.” He shrugged. “I leave people to do their jobs. Megan
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past every ten minutes to ensure no inmates have escaped or harmed themselves in any way. After being here at Goulburn Correctional Center for just over fifteen years now‚ I know every rabbit hole‚ emergency exit and surveillance areas around this place. The key to survival here is; don’t make friends with anyone‚ don’t look anyone in the eyes and don’t eat the food unless you have to. My first thought every morning when I wake up is my two beautiful twins‚ James and Vanessa. The last time I saw them
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The warm sun glimmered and rays of light radiated in every direction. I looked at him and watched. The sun reflecting on his pale white skin‚ curly brown hair flung all over the place‚ and dirt covering his hands and face. I couldn’t help but smile for the the first time since becoming lost. The cold dry air brought me back to reality. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized that I had left him alone. It was a mistake
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Hutchinson‚ a woman who was very dear to his heart. Hence‚ immediately following the previous lottery year he shattered the old‚ worn lottery box to smithereens. For weeks before the lottery‚ the people of the town speculated when the lottery would take place for the next year’s annual lottery. No one spoke of the missing box. However‚ there was speculation of a new box that would be unveiled to the public during the next annual lottery. In his standard schedule‚ on the appointed day‚ Mr. Summers
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gears of thought‚ ’old Geo could almost hear them groan’ from lack of usage. Suddenly the old 25 watt incandescent light bulb‚ lite up. Somewhere in the dark shadowy corners of his mind‚ stirred an almost unheard of phenomenal‚ reasoning was taking place. In panic Geo almost shelved it in disbelief. Slowly‚ oh so very slowly it came to the front of his mind. But‚ in the dim light of the 25 watt bulb‚ Geo was unable to understand it. Geo shook his head‚ in an effort to clear it. But‚ as with most
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Joshua‚ a fellow CIT shared‚ "So I went outside a little earlier because I didn’t know if we were all going to be meeting outside of the the cabin‚ or at the beginning of the paintball range. I walked up to the paintball range‚ and no one was there no one was there‚ or outside of the cabins so I decided to take a nap." he shrugged. "I made sure to lay down in the middle of the street so that the boys cold see me and wake me up. Jorge your turn." "So at 5 am I woke up and when I went outside I saw
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“Oh… that’s interesting.” This would usually be the response whenever I told people I was spending my summer working at our County Historical Society. And although I felt they may have been using the word “interesting” in the polite‚ Midwesterner-way that’s synonymous with “different‚” to me‚ it really was interesting. Local history may fly under the radar for most people‚ however‚ it’s something I hold with great value. When I was young‚ I would spend hours buried in children’s encyclopedias‚
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It’s a busy place. There were many boats and ship going to different parts of the Reef. Some were sightseeing‚ some. For fishing and others for multiple day scuba diving trips. I thought it would be great to return here some day soon and go out on a diving tour for
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The Years of the Berlin Wall: From My Eyes August 13‚ 1961. A day of misery‚ ordeal and dashed hopes. I had woken to the sound of an obstreperous shriek and what seemed like a case of mass hysteria. Within minutes I became conscious of the fact I was alone in the bedraggled shack we liked to call home. I wandered around in my solitude. Promptly I advanced to the outside pavement where infinite numbers of people were gathered. To the left of me I noticed my mother. Seated on
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