"Creative adaptations in history" Essays and Research Papers

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    Creative writing essay

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    Just like every other day after school‚ Katie was taking a shortcut across a meadow to get home. She was walking in the meadow‚ surrounded by tall‚ green grass and flowers in all colours of the rainbow. She decided to explore the meadow and the forest surrounding it. She walked towards the forest‚ picking flowers on the way. Katie was so busy twisting the flower stems together to make necklaces‚ that she didn’t see the large hole a few meters ahead of her. Tumbling into the deep hole‚ Katie hit her

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    Creative Writing-Belonging

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    ‘Please take a seat‚ I will be back in a second’ Said Mr. Alford‚ as he pointed his hand towards the lounge. I nodded gently as I walked pass my parent’s old bedroom. As I looked around‚ the bedroom itself hadn’t changed much since I was a little kid; I haven’t seen it in a while thought. I remember how I came in here a lot in the middle of a thunderstorm at night to wake my mother up‚ as I was too scared to sleep by myself. My father hated that! However‚ my mother always laughed her head off as

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    Tragic Hero Creative

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    When James woke up‚ it was to a room full of evidence to the frenzy that occurred last night. Music records were draped all over his bed and floor‚ two of his computers and the mixing table was still on and a glass of split whisky was on the floor but Ignoring all of that he headed over to his computer to check is he remember to do the one thing that mattered. Upload the new song which he spent 2 weeks on to his website and with a sign of relief he opened the site and the illuminating words of “Young

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    A "Creative Writing" Essay

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    Analyzation of Two Poems Melinda Polom September 12‚ 2013 I will first be giving to you‚ my analyzation of the short poem‚ titled‚ "First Fig"‚ written by author‚ Edna St. Vincent Millay‚ who was born in the year of 1892‚ and died in the year of 1950. I am at first‚ making the assumption that‚ when the author is speaking about a candle‚ which "burns at both ends"‚ that she must be comparing a candle‚ and the "light that it gives out”‚ using the candle‚ as a symbol‚ or as a “representative”

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    The General pretended to sleep‚ hoping no one was watching her. She knew McKenzie’s men were angry with her‚ but they weren’t looking at the whole picture. She slid from her bedroll and snuck around the trees to where the horses were tied up. In the darkness it was hard to see‚ but she finally located her horse and led it away from camp. “And just where do you think you’re going?” A voice sounded loudly behind her. The General clenched her heart as it pumped wildly and spun around‚ staring

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    As the breeze floated through the canopy‚ the forest’s quiet was broken by rustling branches and frantic leaves. When the wind died so did the sound‚ and the forest returned to it’s ghostly silence. For a wooded place‚ usually full of life thrumming together as one both day and night‚ this silence was abnormal. It was foreboding‚ and even in the light of day the woods were cold and dark‚ as if the sun’s rays could not pierce the leafy canvas as it had in the past. The air was heavy and threatening

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    The worst feeling isn’t being lonely. It’s being forgotten by someone you would never forget. ~Unknown Of course‚ I ran. I wanted to confront her as quickly as possible. And get this over as soon as I could. Girls can be really nasty when they want to be and that’s not even the worst case scenario. Just around the corner! I skidded to a stop. What a sight I saw. She stood in the middle of a group of blonde girls (one‚ I assume is actually a brunette) and was surrounded by a swarm of people‚ flocking

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    creative writing, Gothic

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    Briskly walking through the mysterious darkness of the menacing forest‚ grasping tightly my withering frozen hand‚ my petrified newly wed wife clung on for protection. It was pitch dark on a cold foggy night in the mid days of December. We were in search of somewhere to rest our staggering and lost bodies. My wife and I had been walking for miles through this never ending cursed old forest. Every step we made on the thin and almost transparent layer of snow had a sudden fall and we heard the snap

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    I was disappearing again. I could feel it. I could feel the sterile white walls slowly sucking all the colour out of my skin. I could tell that the iron bars covering my window were slathering at the curve of my body. They were tired of always having to stand up straight; they too were slowly taking a part of me. They were taking my outline. The fluorescent light was burning the colour from my hair and the whispers were carrying it away strand by strand. I screamed and screamed for them to stop

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    She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her but her kidnapper was advancing fast. She held her note close to her chest as mud splashed upon her bare arms and legs leaving streaks on her daisy patterned shorts. She tripped on a large rock‚ barely noticeable on the mucky ground and in moments her kidnapper was upon her. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe. She cried‚ and in the final moments before death she murmured a faint sound. “Mommy” Stabbed viciously and beaten long after her

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