was yesterday. I was only 6 years old and I remember how excited I felt when my parent tells us about the trip one week to the day of going away. I had heard interesting stories about Canterbury Tales and I was so excited that in a week I would finally get the chance to visit this place. The wait was long for this day seemed longer hours and seemed like months. Then the day came and we were all set to go abroad on this trip‚ after all the preparation. My father‚ my mother‚ my sister and I grabbed
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First Day I had just graduated high school about two months ago just starting my first semester in college. It was a summer semester and I started off taking three classes. This was all new to me my parents were no longer taking me and picking me up form school anymore. I would walk in the blaring Miami heat to the FIU engineering center then from there take the bus to the main campus. This was a special semester where I took all three classes with the same people who were all studying to
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goes into the school gate‚ lots of other students greet her warmly‚ she has to stop a few times in order to respond. All the details show that Alice is such a popular student. However‚ things were so different when she came to this school at first. Three month ago‚ Alice stood in front of her new high school gate‚ “East Vancouver High School”. Her father recently got a job here and she had to move here form New Brunswick. Today was her first day. She had to admit this high school was as beautiful
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Creative Writing I jump back as a black feline shoots across the path in-front of me. I catch a glimpse of its matted fur; a screeching hiss pierces the night air as it encounters a mammal in the undergrowth. They say a black cat at night is bad luck‚ but I honestly doubt my luck could get any worse in light of recent events. “Get out‚ you don’t belong here anymore”‚ “Just looking at you makes me sick. Leave now and get out of our lives”. It’s funny how the ones who are meant to love you the most
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Creative writing As I wind down my window piercing sounds of cicada instantaneously bash my ear drums with their high pitched drill echoing into the bush. Hot air swells into the open window‚ and is being pushed back out by the ice cold air conditioning which effortlessly hums out of the vents. The strong sweet smell of summer fills my nostrils with every breath I take. It was just like I had left it so many years ago. The rigid road leaves a enormous dust cloud behind me. It feels like I am a
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Kenya Quezaire My First Day at Vincent H.S It was an early September morning and I was on my way to my bus stop to begin my first day at Vincent High School. I show no fear on my face but in the inside I was terrified. My bus arrives at 7:45 and as I waited on the block of 14th Walnut waiting for my bus to come more kids started to come stand on the bus stop with me so I didn’t feel along and more. When my bus finally pulls up to my stop I step on to the Joy Farm bus and I was looking to
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English Creative Writing The soft cushions‚ the filtered light fell upon the faded‚ dusty dark carpet. “She was a good woman‚ your Grandmother‚ she taught me a lot‚” said Jenna‚ trying to comfort me in my despair. I didn’t reply because it would encourage more of her pointless words of sympathy‚ adding to the awkwardness of the situation. “Would you like to hear about our experience at the lake in the summer of 1965?” Jenna exclaimed. Although I did not want more pathetic words of comfort‚ this
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my first day of high scholl was very exciting and disapointing because.hsbvjsfkjvbbgkdbbgsdjgfvvifbdgbdg;oeovtboevytovn.oew9vby9beg9v9sybecnneb9terjmvrnycowuvtcsbhfbe.fdhiufdbsgidbsjbigvjsbvcbsivsbivsbsks.sdhoshiovbsdbvisbkvsvbksbvosdlbvsjvnsdknsdnlvsdlnlsdnsdsd.sdosbhbsdknbsbndsjlbsdlbbgr ebiv‚ fnd.vkkbicblbiixhfdibfhii.jfjbvoisnjckknfnjvnlsnjcjxmvcjuifn;lkdnfo;vlkflsbiidkjbkf.bdjbidibdibndbbvjddbnkdibinvbib ubibvi‚nbidbikn.hbviyvbidikbvibdhvibidbviidbvibdjibvikisbibvjbushdbvjkd.vuhdbivkoiidivdb
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and homework assignments. This way‚ she was just another average girl that no one would bother. One day‚ Anathema sat down at her usual spot to find a small‚ black book in the desk compartment. This was quite odd because‚ well‚ no one used those compartments anymore. That was precisely why Anathema stored many items there. No one‚ not even janitors bothered to check
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Creative Writing 2. She lay there in a pathetic huddle of glass and blood‚ whimpering softly as the overwhelming stench of betrayal seeped out of the bundle of bones which had become her body. She certainty knew how to draw a crowd in. He watched them watching her; the do-gooders‚ the neighbourhood watch‚ the office workers; even the man from the corner shop snaking around her fragile‚ vulnerable body. Each of them carried a concerned look‚ muttering words of sympathy‚ occasionally
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