English Writing Dear Diary I am standing alone in a lake. The water is still‚ and there is no one with me - nothing containing any life… and yet I still feel like something is observing me. I can’t hear anything or see through the thick blanket of fog that carries an air of melancholy across the marsh. I am standing alone in a lake. Until I open my eyes. Tranquillity leaves me and I am transported to a place where there is no adequation; where hierarchy takes over and all beings abide by it
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The car ride home was quiet‚ just how Allie wanted it to be. She didn’t have enough patience to deal with Rumlow’s snarky comments‚ especially when he thought her fate was doomed. However‚ she saw that Fury was still alive‚ which changed her future substantially. When the car finally arrived to it’s destination‚ Allie quickly opened her door merged her way into the house. "You should clean yourself up‚" Rumlow suggested as he followed her inside. Allie turned her head around to face him and nodded
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When reality took a turn for the surreal‚ that was where Buffy lived. Monsters and lingering in cemeteries and back alleys and death prophecies. A day had passed‚ and she wasn’t coping‚ wasn’t dealing‚ she was just taking life one demon fight at a time. It was hard not to tell Willow about the prophecy; Willow‚ who was talking about Homecoming dances or colleges and the rest of their lives. Buffy never noticed before‚ how much of living was spent on thinking about the future; Dawn talking about her
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does‚ after years of burning flags‚ protests‚ fighting‚ greed and word that stuck in her throat‚ a word that made her sick to say - hate. Pointless hate‚ unknowing hate‚ hate because you were told to‚ the worst kind of hate. They fled the country‚ hearts still beating‚ fuelled by half hopes of a future. A word used tentatively for the fear that ravaged their bodies‚ the fear that could sometimes be suppressed with drink or running away but a fear that could never be escaped while their accents were
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As the days go by Mary Maloney is waiting to get the call that the detectives had found her husband’s killer. Although‚ Mary knew they never would find the killer‚ because well quite frankly she would never turn herself in. The next day Mary got a call from the detectives. “Hello is this Mrs. Maloney?” said detective Jack Noonan. “Why yes‚ it is Mr. Noonan‚ have you found out anything else about the case?” “Yes‚ about that Mrs. Maloney‚ we have found your husband`s killer.” Mary was in shock‚ “What
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Far away‚ she sees the biggest volcano of Hawaii‚ Mauna Loa. Kailani looks down at her prosthetic leg and then looks back at the volcano. “ Well; I guess this is it Kiwi‚ hopefully we’ll make it all the way to the top. We really need to get that letter to rescue Father.” she said. “Roof” Kailani takes her very first steps towards the volcano. Her legs shaking with fear of what will happen. She worries that something might go wrong. Kailani starts to walk very slowly as she approaches a rock
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Creative Writing The short story by Etgar Keret is about the metaphorical aspect of creative writing using two characters; Aviad and Maya‚ husband and wife who have recently gone through the tragedy of a miscarriage. The story begins with Maya‚ who has been encouraged to attend creative writting workshops in hopes of getting out more and moving on rather than sitting at home dwelling on the lost child. Aviad at first seems quite pleased that Maya has been doing well in her workshops‚ however
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Creative Writing: The Fossilized Story of Mr. Allosaurus As the mud starts to surround me I am no longer able to breathe. I catch my last gasp of air and feel a few last raindrops fall on my head. I say goodbye to my Earth and my land. My mouth and lungs fill with mud that travels throughout my system. I am blinded by the wet black soil that has been downpoured on so hard that it has become deadly. I am frightened. Slowly inch by inch I sink farther and deeper in the mud. My life will
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shallow and inconstant. He must of lost lots of blood. I touch his wrist to get his pulse. Nate’s eye lids fly open‚ his big blue-grey eyes resting on my face. “E…Elena?” he croaks “I’m going to need help taking you back to camp” i say with a half-heart laugh “Elena” he takes my hand in his “I don’t think I’m going to make it” he lifts the hand on top of his wound. Scarlet pools around it‚ further staining his shirt. The hand is back on top of the wound again. Tears are fighting their way up to the
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The better half of the last day of human civilization was rather boring and extremely uninteresting for most of mankind‚ even the few who felt they knew the ifs‚ ands‚ buts‚ speculations‚ and coming of the apocalypse. As the Monday morning lunch rush proceed with unintelligible yells and upward thrust middle fingers‚ no one had a clue something more eventful than a twenty cent increase in gas prices was going to happen. They had a whole morning of blissful‚ uneventful lives before it all cascaded
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