Prairie Dog We were making our way through the midwest on a very cold morning when I saw an animal that looked like a dog‚ but seemed to be much smaller. As I tried to near it to get a better look it barked continuously until I was out of sight. I noticed that when the animals felt alarmed the whole village quickly steps into their holes. As well as noticing that I also noticed that they make a call when there is a predator near‚ and once that predator is gone they give out a second call. The small
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bared‚ tremendous legs. It creaked out in the open‚ a startled beast‚ curling it’s watchmaker’s claws at every step. Each leg dragged behind the next‚ a thousand pounds of white bone‚ sunk in thick ropes of muscle‚ as each of the four legs stamped the cold dirt-filled ground. Each thigh shook as the beast walked‚ even at the slowest pace. And above the legs a giant food incinerator hidden by it’s bare skin dangled with extra weight‚ while the head slowly dropped in sight of a predator. And the head itself
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In the fall that I turned fourteen years old‚ a deep depression crept over me like a fog. I would have expected it to come crashing in like a bolt of lightning‚ but it appeared so quietly and gently‚ settling on top of everything. If it hadn’t been for the ache in my bones and the dullness in my mind‚ it could have come by entirely unnoticed. I spent that year like a ghost‚ wandering the hallways of my home at night. When all became quiet‚ I would arise from the dead. My feet moved softly on the
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Clearly‚ his plan was to leave me as I was the last one under my wooly sheep. We could feel the cold‚ night air of the cave sucked in my the humid sun‚ the sheep quickly herded for it. My sheep was the first out as it was light and fluffy‚ whilst it move through the pasture I loosened myself and waited for the others. Quickly‚ scurried our leftover
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I zigzag around the forest edge‚ catching a final glimpse of the sunset over the mountain before racing into the shadows. Freezing air whistles by‚ but there’s too much warmth within me to be cold today. I hear a familiar laugh and swerve out of the way to see Emma glide by me. She flies past gracefully‚ a hummingbird among the hibernating woodlands. She laughs again as I dance around trees‚ leaving a pattern of curves behind me. With Emma by my side and skis on my feet‚ there is nowhere I would
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In Truman Capote’s book In Cold Blood‚ he describes the events of an actual murder that happened in Holcomb Kansas. The Clutter family of four‚ were savagely murdered in their own home with shotguns during the night. The book follows the murders Dick and Perry through events that follow the murders. The two murders have many similarities‚ but are also very different. Their background‚ affections‚ and mental awareness. Perry and Dicks childhoods couldn’t compare to each other they were so different
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Meanwhile‚ Russ‚ Ron‚ Amy‚ and I was standing in the jungle of our lawn. All of a sudden‚ I start hearing what sounds like running water. “Ummm‚ Amy? Did you hear that?” I questioned my older sister. Amy looked at me and nodded‚ apprehension spread across her face as she looked at our surroundings. I staggered over to Amy and gripped her arm. “It’ll be alright‚ Nick‚” Amy told me uneasily. I could tell she was trying to be confident‚ but it wasn’t working. “Guys…. I think we should get moving
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Creative Writing: My Summer Off Memory can be so fickle. Like some great book that is slowly loosing its pages‚ you begin with an entire novel full of details and descriptions and‚ if you’re not careful‚ you end up with nothing more than the cover and the brief synopsis on the back page. My novel on the subject of the end of summer school debate has lost its share of pages but the back-cover synopsis‚ the essence of the entire experience‚ is still with me. "We are about to begin our annual
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In Cold Blood by Truman Capote is a riveting mystery novel about the tragic murder of a family. In it‚ Capote provides an extensive description about the town and it’s residents. Capote views Holcomb‚ Kansas‚ as a small‚ dry town that many people have never heard of‚ until that devastating night‚ by using elements such as imagery and selection of detail to enforce his point. Truman Capote’s usage of rhetorical devices strengthens his descriptions of Holcomb and the kinfolk in it. Holcomb stands
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Homer Homer is a fourteen-year-old mutt that we got at the Animal Rescue League twelve years ago. He is not the brightest bulb on the tree‚ but he is personality plus and part of the family. He’s also a pain in the butt‚ especially over the last couple of years. . . . He has a geriatric tendency to empty his bowels in the living room. He likes to wander off whenever he can—well‚ this is not a new habit‚ actually. He likes to lunch from our neighbour’s garbage—also nothing new. And lately he’s forgetful
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