"Creative writing continue the story of the other time by peter appleton" Essays and Research Papers

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    The Lakehouse I remember a majestic time‚ simple and happier then now. An agenda consisted of eat‚ play‚ sleep. Life as a four year old boy was carefree‚ joyful‚ eternally having fun. Although my memory may now be faded; one distinctive will always remain planted in my brain. A time of summer holidays spent entirely at my favourite place‚ which I keep close to my heart; special only to me. Our family’s humble bach‚ set in the dated lakeside town of Kuratau‚ is the place tender to me. The place I’ve

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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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    Creative Writing: Drowning

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    Drowning: She slams the door shut‚ shaking the house with pure madness. My parents step out of the house‚ and take their big argument outside. I walked over to the window and watched their lousy arguing. It always ends up in the same place. One either gets kicked out of the house or someone leaves and doesn’t come back till a few days later. I was lying down on my lonely bed‚ looking at the ceiling fan go round and round. I was surrounded by the thin‚ white walls and the sounds of bickering outside

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    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 thing

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    Creative Writing: Greer

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    of the large door‚ he found the lever. It was gray and heavy. He placed his hand on it and inhaled sharply as he pressed down. The strength that was required to even move the bar surprised him‚ but he could hear the screeching of rusty gears on the other side; then‚ he pushed his shoulder against the door with a grunt. A grinding scream came from within as the door wailed in protest; it didn’t want to open. Although Greer was relentless in his intentions‚ it would only budge enough to allow him a

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    The crack of gunfire in the defining darkness drew him from his sleep. He silently awakened his raw-boned family. Sitting up and listening to the pandemonium which lay outside of the windowless skyscraper. The fire danced around creating demonic shadows upon the walls and across their gaunt faces. The man held his wife’s only hand as they rolled back to their sleep. The lemon soured light beamed throughout the city resting like a gargantuan beast‚ overpowering the horizon. The Dilapidated buildings

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    “Do you remember that day‚ Kora?” Jonas asked. Staring at him‚ I knew what he was referring too. It was a few years ago‚ when my parents had owned Corp‚ Inc. and his parents were working for mine. They both knew each other very well‚ but something happened and they got into a heated argument. Leading to my parents firing his and it all went down spiral from there. Jonas’ parents unfortunately died in a car crash a few months after and that led Jonas to insanity. “Yes

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    Creative Writing Belonging

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    passing time. Making the sky more radiant as it climbed higher and higher into the sky. But as beautiful as the morning was I knew today would be horrible. I walk out of my small but dainty room and there to meet me by my door is my two beautiful German Sheppard’s that you will ever meet. Their long fluffy brown tails wagging uncontrollably 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

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    Modernism Creative writing

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    taste of yesterday on her tongue. It was a thursday. Tuesdays had tended been friendly to her‚ thursdays however had never treated her kindly. One of her happiest tuesdays had been near a year before this morning; where after realising that her time of the month hadn’t occurred for over one‚ it was tested and became apparent that she was pregnant. How or why the protection did not function was a mystery to her‚ for in those days she had always been rather meticulous with such matters. When and

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    Creative Writing: Genocide

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    Exiting onto the unpleasant frigid city walkways of Oslo‚ Norway in the early winter morning of the Walk. The wind was blowing over the rough scene of the rural city. He is pacing down the bustling roads and pondering which foot will come next. "Left‚ Right‚ Left‚ Right‚ Right‚ Left. No‚ no‚ that can’t be correct." He murmured under his chilling breath. He slipped on the newly solidified walkways‚ he stood up and glanced around‚ feeling humiliated… he saw nobody‚ heard nothing‚ it was as peaceful

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