explain everything to you in a minute.” said Captain Skillman. As they sat there quiet. Deputy Blake held his head down. “Are you okay?” ask Captain Skillman. “Yes I’m fine‚ I’m just a little tired.” said Deputy Blake. “Well‚ we won’t be long.” said Captain Skillman. As they sat there‚ three men walked in‚ Lieutenant Crimp‚ Lieutenant Nectar and Sergeant Prim. Captain Skillman stood up and shook their hands. “Now we can start.” said Captain Skillman. Then six special agents walked in. “What’s going
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The captain’s voice was courteous and friendly as he read the imperative into his mic. “The Australian Capital Territory’ requires all disembarking passengers to have their Australian Federation Cards ready for inspection. All passengers are required to submit to a fingerprint identification when passing through the border-guard inspection gates. We take this opportunity to welcome you to the sunny center of the nation‚ and we wish your stay with us be happy and secure.” The woman in the stiff uniform
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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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“What the heck is wrong with you? You need help‚” Paxon exclaimed‚ “this isn’t the way you normally act. This isn’t the real you.” DJ‚ Paxon‚ and McKenzie were walking around on their way to the gas station when they decided to go off the street toward the old abanded insane asylum. When they turned down the creepy‚ gloomy street they heard crows gawking and making normal crow sounds‚ but McKenzie kept hearing words from the crows and thought she was going crazy. “Do you guys hear those crows?”
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Late Autumn‚ 1942 Today is one of those unusually quiet evenings‚ and sometimes‚ it’s so quiet it becomes frightening. It reminds me of a storm. At first‚ it sneaks up on you quietly‚ then the storm intensifies‚ rushing through cities‚ towns‚ or whatever is in its path‚ leaving behind devastation and desolation. That sense of desolation is what I fear the most‚ and that’s what it feels like now. There have been no loud roars of planes overhead or any explosions for over a month. But I don’t mind
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“YES!!!” Jack yelled throwing his hands in the air. “Touchdown.” He slapped his baby brother Michael on the back .Michael just rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table. “Whatever Jacky‚ we still have some time left. “ Jack laughed and took a swig of his beer. “Patriots are winning 35 to 17 Mikey Boy. You guys should just throw in the towel already.” Michael shrugged off his brother’s statement and glued his eyes back to the tv. As the commercials played‚Jack looked
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"For Justice!" Superman lets out a warcry‚ immediately throwing himself at his armoured archnemesis‚ sending them both into the mountain behind the ruined castle with a loud crash. I guess... that was our cue‚ I assume‚ selecting my target amongst the Young Justice clones. Also‚ I’m guessing that the JL is taking down Luthor’s gang‚ leaving the responsibiliy of handling ’Project Solar Dawn’ to us. We should know ways to beat us‚ right? Out of us all‚ I guess that fighting ourselves is the best option
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Welcome Home‚ Soldier by PaulieG© I was finally going home. After a year in Iraq‚ I was going home to my beautiful wife. Little did I know that not only had the war changed me‚ but my home life would change too. Genneveve‚ or Gennie as everyone called her is 11 years younger than me. At 38‚ I marveled at the fact that she still didn’t look a day over 25. Standing 5-7 with coal black hair contrasting with her nearly translucent smooth white skin‚ the contrasts didn’t stop there. Every bit
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niche blogging‚ I used to keep my storytelling skills confined to the ’creative writing’ label and I used nothing but cold‚ objective‚ descriptive words in my first articles. The mere thought of writing for a niche gave me shivers. It made me anxious. I didn’t like that ice-cold sensation writing descriptive paragraphs gave me. The storyteller in me itched to take the lead and turn that boring piece of copy into joyful writing that would make my readers smile‚ laugh‚ frown and cry. You know‚ move
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Opening the door slightly‚ I was greeted with a thick wall of darkness. Peering out into the inky blackness of the passageway‚ I tried to clam myself down to go down to the kitchen to grab some candles to light up the house. I finally felt ready to go down ‚ as if I was fighting a war with the darkness. As I opened the door‚ the door seemed to come alive‚ making a creak sound‚ warning me not to go out of this room. Biting my lip‚ I groped around the black darkness. I quickly made my way towards the
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