My Perfect Day Tik‚ tok‚ tik tok‚ my palms are sweaty‚ my breaths are shallow. My hearts is pounding in my ears‚ I feel so stressed‚ maths examinations make me really nervous. Think about a good place‚ calm my nerves‚ yes my perfect day‚ I carry myself back to a perfect day at the beach........... Excitement builds within me when I hear the soothing sound of waves crashing on a deserted beach and smell the saltiness hanging in the air. Waves crashing onto the fine sand beckon me to pick
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Nothing seemed to scare him more then the quiet before the storm. It wasn’t a familiar feeling for Keith‚ fear. Often he didn’t even spare a moment to worry about circumstances before rushing into dangerous missions head first. Usually he had Lance in his ear‚ edging him on‚ filling his head in that calm and confident manner‚ his voice filling the silence of space. Now‚ Keith was left to listen to the void‚ his nerves prickling at his skin underneath his armor. Screw the silence‚ he thinks‚ screw
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Logan White American Civilization/ English 11th Dr. Graves/ Mrs. May-Washington November 15th 2010 The Road to Freedom I be mighty grateful to mistah David Ruggles‚ who be a abolitionist Republican wantin to hear my story and publish a book about me. My name is Elijah White; I was born outside West Point in Bates County‚ Missouri. I worked on my masta’s farm. The farm was called da White farm. It was about forty acres an grew tobacco an hemp. My masta was Colonel Walter Prescott White
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How could he just treat us all like we were cattle as if it was nothing? The speedometer crept up to 60 miles per hour. Didn’t he care that people everywhere were starving? How could he do this? When he was elected he promised that he would Make America Great Again. 70 miles per hour. I had to get to the rally. We needed change‚ we could be that change. 80 miles per hour. My thoughts were interrupted as my eyes caught the reflecting glow of red and blue lights paint the night sky behind me. Crap
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Hours passed quickly as Akiak and Shatiya slept soundly. Once the sun had risen and the clock read seven forty‚ there was a loud knock at the door awakening Shatiya almost immediately. Her poor husband looked so comfortable laying next to her‚ she didn’t have the heart to wake him up too. She agreed to tend to the duty of greeting company herself. She quietly slipped out of bed and threw a robe over her thick plaid pajamas. “Ey?” She asked impolitely acquainted a large man holding a bag and a small slip of paper in his
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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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