Creative Writing - Belonging The clear‚ bright and enlightening blue skies greet my face as I ponder through my thoughts in my head. The sun blossoms it’s radiating sunlight‚ which glisten and reflect off the tranquil‚ wavy sea to reveal elements of a mystifying‚ inexplicable‚ yet convivial world. My heart beat pulsates through my ears… so silent and blissful this world of beggaring-description‚ words could not hope to utter moments like these. It was the idea of confronting‚ change and experience
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followed by their perfectly pink tongue sticking out‚ trying to lick you like you’re a deliciously new lollipop. I walked through the house for one last time‚ dogs down by my side‚ taking in the smell of freshly picked flowers and remembering all the memories and knowing that this was the place where I belonged. I crouch down and pick up my large oversized black and white bag and head for the door. I look down at my dogs and their black twinkling eyes not knowing what’s to come. I fall down on to the
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intention of becoming her next victim. “Morales? He’s only searching for the traitor.” The General spat angrily. Juno stroked his chin in thought. “Who killed your family?” He asked‚ watching her eyes go round with uncertainty. “The Delgado’s.” The memory of her son’s death flashed before her. Anger and betrayal surged through her body and hate for the Delgado’s was pounding inside of her. “What would you do if the Rebels had killed your family‚ just as Morales killed Maria’s?” He paused for a
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Everyone have a childhood memories in their life and are special for everyone. I was born and brought up in a happy family and Alhamdulillah about that. I want to share to all my readers about my childhood memories in Ramadhan. Every time when Ramadhan came the first thing that will come to my mind is Hari Raya. I feel very excited to celebrate Hari Raya. There are a lot of memories in Ramadhan still fresh in my mind among these is walk around the village while holding the lantern after breaking
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I was barely twelve years old when I first met Livi. She stood under the tree patiently‚ beckoning me with a large‚ red bow wrapped around her. Her screen gleamed with pride as she watched a look of excitement fill my face. Awestruck by her beauty‚ I gently enclosed her in my hands before racing up the stairs. For the next few months‚ my protectiveness continued‚ and I spent almost every waking moment with Livi. She was beside me to wake me in the morning‚ chat with me during school‚ and entertain
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across the room‚ to the face of the trophy that made me the most nervous‚ then looked at the basketball hoop south of it. My baby sat their all sad and lonely‚ like he hasn’t seen me in years‚ it’s all Jake Owens fault. The other hoop brought back memories that made me even more miserable‚ the time Jake Owens broke my leg weeks ago right on the bleachers in front of me. He pushed me down the steep flights of stairs‚ crushing my leg in 3 places‚ but more importantly making me miss out on the most important
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Jonas couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. The two bumped into a large pile of snow outside the welcoming cabin from his memories and dreams. When Jonas woke up‚ he smelled fresh cookies‚ burning wood‚ and pine. He didn’t remember what had happened at first. He was on a pull-out bed next to a toasty fireplace with a warm fleece blanket wrapped around him. The memories of the past few days came back to him. He sat up and looked around; there was an ancient wood chair to one side with a little
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Another night of that bloody rain again. God I hate winter. Lying in my bed‚ the pound of each raindrop as it is thrown from the heavens onto my roof rings in my ears. The gusts of wind freeze the hairs on my neck straight. Snuggling down into my bed‚ I feel a warm‚ almost happy sensation as my blankets form a protective cocoon around me‚ saving me from the terrible monster brewing outside my window. My eyelids attempt to glue themselves shut as I feel relaxation consume my sore old body. It all
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Reflective Essay Conclusion: During writers craft the genre that I enjoyed writing most was poetry. I love everything about poetry. Poetry is a piece of writing that can be interpreted in many different ways while being written in one. My favorite part about class was writing poetry and the many different types of poems we wrote. I was not too big on the fact of reading poems in class sometimes that where too hard for me to understand. I am more of a reader who likes to know what is going on
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Creative Writing He had stood that day‚ the world’s foremost spokesman of popular government‚ saying that democracy was yet worth fighting for… He incarnated the assurances and pretenses of popular government‚ implied that if could and might perish from the earth… He did not assume that the drafted soldiers‚ substitutes‚ and bounty – paid privates had died willingly under Lee’ shot and shell‚ in deliberate consecration of themselves to the Union cause. His cadences sang the ancient song that
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