Creative Title There I was on the field playing defense against the best forward in the league‚ Jay. He was tall with black hair and skin. The red shirt he wore had GYS All-Stars scribbled across the front. This was a huge game and the nerves were running down my spine. I said to myself‚ “ I don’t have a chance this guy is way bigger than me.” I screamed to my team‚ “Me‚ me!” to tell my team I had Jay. I then ran to him‚ stole the ball‚ and passed it to the defender next to me. I was excited and
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in a weird class I had called “Creative Learning”‚ we were given an assignment. It wasn’t a normal assignment. We had to write a horror story‚ and we were going to go tour an abandoned and supposedly haunted mill to “get our creative juices flowing.” At least‚ that’s how my teacher put it. I had read up a lot on paranormal things‚ but I really didn’t get into this whole paranormal or horror scene. It just didn’t make any sense. I had never been that creative‚ I was a very rational person before
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They thought it was funny‚ we actually became friends. The third guy just asked me why I loved him and I responded “because you’re a beautiful human being”‚ he laughed and said nice to meet you. We also became friends. The girl that asked me why I told her I loved her said to me “before you say anything I’m not lesbian” I was really amused because I wasn’t flirting with her for her to think I actually liked her and loved her. I was the one feeling more awkward I have to admit. I told her it was a
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Natalie Bausone October 4‚ 2010 Dr. Rhoda Sirlin‚ English Composition/ACE-001 Narrative Essay – Where I found love As a little girl when I imagined finding my true love‚ I thought I would marry my high school sweetheart. At one point in my life it seemed as though I would never find that “one” person. On August 18th 2005‚ I was on date with Antonio and we were in California on Coronado Island‚ San Diego. I thought this was just another date. I had been dating Antonio for two months
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knew he had to speak‚ and that he couldn’t just leave the other in silence‚ but he needed a moment. he’d never felt so vulnerable‚ nor has he ever felt so guarded in his life. opening up was such an intimate thing and geneva knew he had to at some point‚ but he was always afraid that the other would find him fucked up. and he knew how terrifying it was and how it could be‚ and the fact that tyler had decided to delve into his past
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The concept of the fourth wall‚ a key component of naturalistic theatre‚ film‚ and television‚ is a vital aspect of the contemporary actor-audience relationship with most pieces of art. Due to this being the norm for both Broadway and Hollywood‚ whenever someone decides to “break the fourth wall”‚ you can’t miss it. In my research‚ I am treating this technique as any time that a character acknowledges the existence of an audience to their plights or references the fact that they are part of an artistic
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something about it?” We sat in solitude as he held me in his arms. I could hear his pulse quickening with every minute that passed and all I could do was listen and observe. “A part of me wants you to move on sometimes because I know you put up with a great deal.” My heart sank and in that moment his words felt like an anchor on my back. The silence was so dead that the ambience almost felt awkward. My
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g Beautiful Tragic Love I never asked my life to be a FAIRY TALE or PERFECT‚ all I wanted was a normal life‚ and I didn’t have a very happy childhood living with my parents as an only child. As I was growing up all my life it revolved around men‚ every time I would fall in love with one‚ they would leave me after 3 months. I was beginning to feel like a hopeless romantic just like my mum when my dad had left her when I was beginning to experiment with love. I felt cursed. I kept asking myself “WHY
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sleeping on a makeshift bed of the only two blankets we were allowed. I wake my sister and she hands me my blanket I had lent her. I walk over to the hoarder half tempted to cover her head with a pillow and hold it there till her chest no longers moves up and down‚ despite my temptations I wake her. As we walk down the stairs every door in the house except for the doors blocking the elements have been ripped from their hinges‚ even the bathroom door. The hoarder has a smile on her face‚ bright and
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enough for me to think about what writing‚ and being creative mean to me. It was my sophomore year of high school‚ I heard this every time I pull my agenda out and pick up my backpack‚ “they are the same people that go every time.” But before going into all the details about it‚ I think I should introduce you to my mojo in creative writing class‚ too. I think my creative writing teacher remembers me due to my opening line every time I came up to her- “Ms. Miller‚ may I go to the library?” I ask
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