Monifah Davis 5/12/15 creative writing Short story Julie comes from a rough background‚ when she was seven years old her mother and her father were murdered by her uncle Tom. Tom did not have a good relationship with Julie’s dad.The two of them were gambling and they made a bet on the L.A. Clippers game. Julie’s dad won the bet and Uncle Tom did not want to pay up. The two of them got physical and Uncle Tom grabbed his gun out of his back pocket. Julie’s mom tried to stop him and stepped in front of her husband
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sight sickened many who were very close to the once lively young man. Amanda sniffled‚ trying to hold back tears. She was grief ridden and hardly ate or slept anymore in fear of his memory haunting her behind closed eyelids. She bowed her head‚ hunched her shoulders‚ closed her eyes and lost herself in happier memories. Minutes melted into hours; the coffin was closed and buried‚ mourners eventually left the cemetery with heavy hearts and tear stained cheeks.
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Lesson 8 By 1900s the meaning of American identity at home____________ excluded more people than previously Progressive reformers were primarily concerned with____________ making democratic capitalism work better American women of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries found that the settlement house movement_________________ was a good place to use their talents to help society Progressives launched the social purity movement to___________________ attack prostitution
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Elena stood in the field‚ circling around as she scanned her surroundings; She hadn’t the faintest clue on how she came to be here. In fact the more she tried to think about what had recently taken place‚ the more her memories seemed to fade away. It was as if the last 24-hours had been a blank. "Think.." She softly spoke to herself‚ trying to remember even the tiniest of clues to how she got to this place‚ face down in the dirt and grass. All she could remember was being
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Creative Writing: Unexpected Horizons Wow! I love going deep sea fishing on our boat. I was excited when my dad had asked me if I wanted to go this weekend. We departed that Saturday morning after almost a week of sheer anticipation‚ our destination‚ Port Canaveral‚ home of of some of the best fishing on the east coast of Florida. The sea is a very dangerous place when riled by a storm‚ even a mild one‚ so we always made sure the day would be at least close to perfect before we ventured out
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In the fall that I turned fourteen years old‚ a deep depression crept over me like a fog. I would have expected it to come crashing in like a bolt of lightning‚ but it appeared so quietly and gently‚ settling on top of everything. If it hadn’t been for the ache in my bones and the dullness in my mind‚ it could have come by entirely unnoticed. I spent that year like a ghost‚ wandering the hallways of my home at night. When all became quiet‚ I would arise from the dead. My feet moved softly on the
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Tired eyes could not contemplate the barren surroundings. They blinked once. Twice. Three times. And still‚ the gray walls did not metamorphose into the equally unfamiliar golden blades of grass. Memories dotted her consciousness. Rough hands‚ heaving her on cold tables. Sharp pricks of pain embedding themselves in her legs‚ her sides‚ and her soft belly. All at once‚ something brought the lumbering wolf to her unsteady paws with a start. The voices flooded her ears‚ blanketing all of her senses
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companionship and colorful imagination. It means release from care‚ boredom and worry. It is joyous intimacy with friends and a feeling that life is good. But not so with us in those last days of heavy drinking. The old pleasures were gone. They were but memories. Never could we recapture the great moments of the past. There was an insistent yearning to enjoy life as we once did and a heartbreaking obsession that some new miracle of control would enable us to do it. There was always one more attempt and one
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of your other ones.” “Okay‚ okay‚ hear me out: I found the most beautiful tree I have ever seen in my life‚” Sal states. “And?” Henry questions. “And I think it would be a great sketch to put in the memory book!” Sal says excitingly. “Is the memory book going to be for your mom?” Henry asks. “The memory book is for my mom. It will contain pictures of her in her golden days‚” says Sal. “I think that if I make another one for you brother‚ my mom would be happy. Is that a good idea?” “That’s a great
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water. Nebulas are the conglomerations of dust and debris left floating away from the collapsed orbits of dead stars. Somehow‚ these drifting particles come together into a breath-taking formation shining and sparkling for millenia. We bring our childhood tradition of naming cloud shapes to these wonders like the Crab Nebula‚ the Mystic Mountain‚ and The Eagle Has Risen. Even with reading all the knowledge we have assembled about puddles and star corpses‚ this is the essentials of what we know to
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