I can hear many different sounds like seagulls squawking and lots of people laughing‚ screaming and shouting with so much excitement. I can feel the golden yellow sand brushing against my feet with every sand grain hitting my leg. I found out how cold the sea is the hard way when she accidentally splashed me. Around me there are lots of children digging holes burying themselves and making sand castles with moats going around the outside of the sand castles. As I look in to the horizon I can
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would I sacrifice my life for the safety of millions of people I haven’t even met. Its very hard to imagine. After you make the ultimate sacrifice for your country‚ all you are remembered bye‚ is a little scratch‚ among 58‚306 other indents in stone cold granite might be even a little harder to contemplate. But in reality‚ over 58‚000 people made this sacrifice for
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A way that I express my creative side would be through drawing‚ I love to draw. Many times drawing seems to work like my stress reliever. Drawing in general relaxes me and makes me feel at ease‚ that is why I enjoy it so much. I have developed my drawing skills every time I have my sketchbook at hand. If I see a symbol or a beautiful drawing I must draw it‚ and while I am drawing I get this feeling of motivation‚ which makes me want to draw more. Drawing for me is like an escape from the world. All
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at least. I was in shock now‚ for I had seen her dead‚ lifeless body‚ how could this be. She took the Blood Blanket and wrapped it around my hand. I could feel the heat of the blanket intensify‚ then my hand was cool and the Blood Blanket was no longer a blanket but a gauntlet! “Save my boy. He will save this place one day.” I was back in the present‚ stunned but aware of my mission now. The Blood Gauntlet still on my hand‚ I charged at Dmitri. He saw me coming‚ and this time he didn’t bother to swat
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midlife crisis. The sound echoes hollowly around the morgue. It bounces off lithe gray walls and sharp corners‚ completely out of place around the pale skin and lifeless eyes. The emptiness hangs in the air accusingly‚ reprimanding me for invading the cold silence.[d] The feel of death. The feeling of something missing that was there before. I turn back to my clipboard‚ marking down things like age‚ height‚ race‚ hair color‚ and of course‚ time of death[e]. I look down at the white cloth. It’s spotless
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In Cold Blood Analysis 1. Syntax “More markings‚ self-designed and self executed‚ ornamented his arms and torso: the head of a dragon with a human skull between its open jaws; bosomy nudes; a gremlin brandishing a pitchfork; the word PEACE accompanied by a cross radiating‚ in the form of crude strokes‚ rays of holy light; and two sentimental concoctions—one a bouquet of flowers dedicated to Mother-Dad‚ the other the celebrated the romance of Dick and Carol‚ the girl whom he had married
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The Crack Of Dawn.....By Dean Fearon Walking‚ out of the door‚ I saw the moon in the distance. Harmlessly‚ I stood there sobbing the moon‚ was glistening as bright as the sun would and It was so luminous I could see the reflection of myself and the monstrous red creature in the shadows of the snowy woods. I couldn’t think straight as the scenes of people being murdered replayed over and over in my dismayed head‚ and the sounds of dogs howling
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Creative Writing: Unexpected Horizons Wow! I love going deep sea fishing on our boat. I was excited when my dad had asked me if I wanted to go this weekend. We departed that Saturday morning after almost a week of sheer anticipation‚ our destination‚ Port Canaveral‚ home of of some of the best fishing on the east coast of Florida. The sea is a very dangerous place when riled by a storm‚ even a mild one‚ so we always made sure the day would be at least close to perfect before we ventured out
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It was the cold seemingly endless winter of 1947 in Paris ‚ Latin Quarter. . Sheets of snow put the rest of the district in almost complete obscurity; all but steeples and tall spires were invisible‚ on such a bleak day as this. The railway station was a vast cavity made to look smaller by the hoards of hagglers‚ travellers‚ tourists‚ natives and locals. Beggar boys being whisked from sight and hidden by wardens with preying eyes and superstition written all over them.The wonderful smell of the patisserie
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handle and my hand came away sticky. It was blood‚ who’s I didn’t know but the handle was coated in it. Now that the ash no longer clouded my vision I could see that the panic room was pristine as ever. The walls unlike their fellows outside in the hall‚ were crisp and colorless. All except for the maroon streak that crawled along the floor oozing from a sizzling wound in someone’s leg. It was May‚ her chest heaving‚ her hands coated in the blackened blood. The acrid stench of burning flesh now filling
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