and pick up Granny” “Ok” I say to my Grandma. “Ok Grandma I’m good now‚ do we have everything “? “Yes we do have everything we have the close the food and the drinks too” said my Grandma . We drove to my Granny’s house‚ it does not take so long it is alony like 20 minutes to get there. Then we were there and we seen my Granny waiting by her steps and me and my Grandma lafit at her because whenever we go and pick her up she is always by the front steps waiting for us. Then my Granny got in the car
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It was another day in the city I love. Baltimore. Like any other resplendent city in all of the states. Baltimore has been my only home for years. However‚ today in Baltimore something felt different. “Ahhh…‚” I yawned and moaned as I tried to free myself from my bed sheets. I opened the shutters of the windows to look outside the early sunlight began to creep out as all livelihood of the distant inner city began to awake. “Will‚ it is time to wake up‚” shouted Will’s mother above the staircases
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Mute “Deeeeeeeep” The heart minder screamed letting me know that cancer was winning “DOCTOR” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I took one last gazes into my sister’s eyes as the nurse pushed me out the room and all I witness was defeat and surrender. “ Myasia I’m sorry‚ I love you” she battled to pronounce. “ Taj don’t talk like that‚ I’m not letting you go… I can’t” I replied bursting into tears and pushing through the nurse into my sister’s arms . “Myasia listen‚ y-you can never t-talk…”
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In the story Speak Melinda is being seen by other students on the bus is very different from how the readers are viewing Melinda. At the beginning of the story Melinda gets on the bus at the first stop and she decides that she will sit in the front in hopes that one of her friends would sit with her. In the story Melinda says‚ “If I sit in the front‚ it will make me look like a little kid‚ but I figured it is my best chance I have making eye contacts with one of my friends‚ if any of them decided
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The night sky was clouded with a tired haze‚ sending the city into an emotional collapse of anything exciting. Even the typically wild taxi services buzzed with boredom‚ and the street lights sent any bystanders into a mental slumber. With bland weather‚ came bland people‚ who had many things to accomplish while the rest of the city folk were caught in the whirlwind of disinterest. Genevíve Luther was one of those bland people‚ and she indeed had many things to accomplish that evening. Though‚ those
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What Makes a Good Short Story and How Successful is R.K. Narayan in Portraying the Character of Swami in the Short Story ‘A Hero’? Nadine Gordimer – ‘Short story writers see by the light of the flash; theirs is the art of the only thing we can be sure of – the present moment.’ This is a quote from short story writer Nadine Gordimer; referring to how the art of short story writing is to get straight to the point and write everything as it is. This is an art and those who cannot perfect it should
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Clang! A mountain of falling goblets and dirty silver platters pierces my ear drums and I instantly wake. As the pungent odor of boar wafts through the air and my eye catches a beam of the mid-morning sun‚ I realize that I failed to return from the mead hall. That could prove to be a costly mistake. “This isn’t an inn‚ Cathasach‚” said Judoc‚ my friend‚ the hall’s keeper and‚ fortunately‚ Amoorhi’s finest chef. “Have clemency‚ brother! I am still weary from last evening’s battle against the
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Though scorching‚ her hands did not react‚ the skull of her mate‚ her lover‚ her friend in life. His hand reached into the wicker basket removed two large red stones‚ placed a stone in each of the skull’s eye sockets. They began to glow‚ intensifying until they became fiery red staring into her eyes and soul. She breathes in the fragrance of incense and that of the cauldron’s brew‚ most pleasurable among fragrances her mate’s blood covering her body in its most natural state. She brought it to her
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David: Welcome Thomas‚ we are very glad you came. Thomas: Thanks! I am happy to be here. David: We invited you here to ask you questions about your last several weeks during the trials. These trials must had been very hard on you and your friends. Thomas: Yes‚ those weeks were the hardest times of my life‚ and the only ones I can remember. David: Why is that? Thomas: When WICKED first gathered all of their test subjects‚ they erased most of our memories. We could remember the names of objects
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JORGE One night in Jamaica‚ a warm breeze rustled the trees‚ they seemed to whisper to him. As night fell‚ he watched the sun set and tried to count the stars. Jorge sat watching as the stars appeared in the sky. He couldn’t count‚ so high and decided and closed his eyes. Jorge leaned his head back into his palms and sighed. He was sprawled out on the cool grass. He patted his dog beside him. It would soon be time for dinner and he must go in and help his grandmother prepare the family meal
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