Stacie didn’t say anything‚ Michonne could feel his hands tighten around her waist. Michonne was tempted to speak again but decided against it. For the most point the ride was silent‚ they had passed a few groups of walkers without stopping to take care of them. “We won’t need to stop for the night because we’re not far‚ I had originally planned to go out farther but heading back for the night with our current supplies seems to be a better plan. Plus I have some people I want to check up on.” Michonne
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A Poem of Remembrance (Thinking of You) We sit in our rooms thinking of you‚ thinking of all the things we use to do. We think of you night and day. Just wondering why you had to leave us. You will always look down and smile upon us. Even though you aren’t here to talk to us that doesn’t mean we have lost our faith. God knew that you were getting tired. So he said come‚ my child‚ and take your rest because you are one of my best. Your Brothers & Sisters‚ George‚ Willie C‚ MC‚‚ BJ‚ Ollie
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The Chimaera’s Island I was on my ship‚ looking at a map trying to determine which direction we should head‚ to reach land‚ but suddenly some of my men barged open the door to my study. “Odysseus”‚ one of my men shouted to gain my attention. “When will we be home?” I had no clue when we would be home and I was in no position to lie to my crew. I looked up from the many maps scattering the large desk and said‚ “My men‚ I will not lie to those few who have survived with me. I have looked at many of
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"I’m going to do this‚ Mom‚" said a young girl. In the distance‚ some people waded into the bay. They floated on their backs. They floated slowly towards the ocean‚ picking up speed once they were in the aisle between the two wharves that split the beach. "No‚ you’re not." Three lifeguards were on the double wharf. One sat relaxed in the chair strategically placed to see both sides at once. Two lifeguards stood at the far end‚ one on each wharf‚ beside the ocean‚ ready to jump in the ocean at a moment’s
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The ship floundered‚ bobbing in the ragged sea like a bloated corpse. Three rows of oars slapped at the angry sea‚ but could not hold the waves at bay. The sea was no friend to the finless creatures on the wooden vessel‚ and their terror screamed louder than the wind. Another wave swelled‚ hammering the ship until the wood groaned. The mast splintered and fell. The wind howled. “Man overboard‚” came the wavering cry. Distance and rain watered down the call to a whimper. It was only a matter of moments
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Paned Nights At quarter to two‚ the moon shone down with an ashen glow. Its sullen radiance provided the perfect ambience in front of his bedroom window. Lighting barely filtered through the layers of fog‚ another set of curtains that hung beyond paned glass. Expected footsteps pierced through thin walls‚ disrupting him from slumber and once again‚ forcing his attention across the street. A young boy could be seen‚ the mop on his head bouncing loosely as he jerked himself through the barricade of
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The car raced along a black highway‚ the leaving town sign was the only thing to read‚ the faintly lit sign quickly faded behind the car as we drove. I was in no rush‚ but I knew she was stuck in a form of limbo‚ waiting. The only thing to light our dark midnight drive was the passing of the street lamps illuminating the dark road ahead. The radio was on but no one was listening‚ I looked out the windshield and would feel the street lights on me for a brief moment before they disappeared only to
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I’m submerged; submerged under the frigid water. I scan my surroundings and find an abundance of nothing. I’m stunned by the scene. The water‚ vividly clear blue‚ was motionless and breathe taking; but not a fish‚ plant or rock in site. ’How did I get here?’ I thought. Panic erupts and rises inside of me. My body acts on its owns out of fear. Immediately‚ I began swimming in hopes to escape this agony. I don’t recall how I ended up here. Actually‚ I don’t recall anything at all‚ but my name. Keith
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word‚ but somewhere in my memory‚ that is good 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-
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Creative Writing Process Piece Reflectio The piece that I choose to display the creative writing process was my Eleven remodel called‚ Eighteen going on Four.This was a remodel from Sandra Cisneros’s piece Eleven. She displayed such an abundant amount of emotions in her piece which is something that I aspired in my own piece.At first I was very hesitant about using another writer’s piece of model after my own‚ it almost felt like cheating. Of course I love to use other’s writing to inspire me but
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