guests. “Ah‚ about time you’ve noticed me! I was beginning to wonder if you were doing this on purpose.” The young-looking man spoke in a hushed tone as he leaned against the windowsill. “Mud? As in‚ the Mud that my department has been trying to pin down for months?” “In the flesh.” “Well‚ aren’t you peppy.” Moss
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Creative Writing He had stood that day‚ the world’s foremost spokesman of popular government‚ saying that democracy was yet worth fighting for… He incarnated the assurances and pretenses of popular government‚ implied that if could and might perish from the earth… He did not assume that the drafted soldiers‚ substitutes‚ and bounty – paid privates had died willingly under Lee’ shot and shell‚ in deliberate consecration of themselves to the Union cause. His cadences sang the ancient song that
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guitar were shoved at my feet was not my idea of a fun way to spend nine o’clock on a Friday morning! I was‚ however‚ extremely excited about arriving in Sheffield and our ‘battle of the bands’ competition that lay in the weekend ahead of us. We had reached the national final and were somewhat astonished at how far we had gotten. After finally arriving at Doncaster train station (our route had been changed as a result of the serious flooding surrounding our destination) with my other bandmates and
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before he pulled his eyes back to her‚ and the confidence and strength in her voice surprised him again. As had her attractiveness‚ and the tight‚ young body‚ he could see straining against the shorter and tighter expected of a prestigious private school
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the schedule for today?” Angela starts the day with the usual double shot Espresso. She updates herself on what is current in the country and every now and then‚ a colleague reveals a case for the next salient report in their next issue. Lunch was spent with the ladies at the nearby café. During this time‚ Angela would relax in a pool of conversations about who has been where and who did what and other small chit chat. Once back in her dull office‚ decorated with best news reports of all time‚ Angela
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I slowly opened my eyes to the bright sun shining through my eyelids. Rubbing my eyes I now noticing that they burned a bit "ugh‚ what happened?" I looked around and noticed that I woke up at the bottom of a giant crater. I slowly respond still tired after last night "that’s right‚ I must have cried myself to sleep" I said looking at my hand and clenching it into a fist. "Why?.....why did this happen to me? more importantly why did Kanako’s life have to be taken!?" I say as I punch a nearby
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is THE day! The day I finally get to be welcomed into the King`s castle.” Well… not exactly the ‘king’ yet… but I am here for the coronation of the King; King Macbeth. Macbeth invited me to the castle as a reward for helping the community. I entered the Great Banquet Hall and the whole room is filled with splendor; I smell the great feast being slowly roasted to perfection in the kitchen‚ I hear the laughter of fellowship; it feels like paradise. As I am being escorted to my spot at the table‚ the
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Gunpowder’s mane whipped at my face. With inhuman speed‚ the dark figure was close behind me‚ a sound of hooves becoming louder. It was a nightmare had turned into reality. The bridge...I had to reach the bridge… The sanctuary of the bridge was ahead of me and I cracked the whip and Gunpowder whinnied and raced on ahead‚ an unstoppable force of nature. At last‚ I had reached the bridge. Turning to face the dark figure‚ he had pulled the reins‚ forcing his horse to raise up. My eyes could not turn away
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In the Fall of 2010‚ I watched my first televised football game from beginning to end. I sat down beside my older brother‚ Nick‚ and watched him as he analyzed every play of a Green Bay Packers game. He would scream at the tv when a bad play happened but would rejoice when a good one followed. I wanted to be just like him and know everything about football. I watched every game that season and annoyingly asked Nick every question that came to mind throughout the year. On February 6th‚ 2011 the Green
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night of that bloody rain again. God I hate winter. Lying in my bed‚ the pound of each raindrop as it is thrown from the heavens onto my roof rings in my ears. The gusts of wind freeze the hairs on my neck straight. Snuggling down into my bed‚ I feel a warm‚ almost happy sensation as my blankets form a protective cocoon around me‚ saving me from the terrible monster brewing outside my window. My eyelids attempt to glue themselves shut as I feel relaxation consume my sore old body. It all seems so majestic
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