The Shadow The glistening‚ white snow fell slowly to the ground outside the window. The distinct shapes of the snowflakes shown; the light from the street lamp seeping through the cracks. The mumble of the heater in the corner of the room; the faint sound of the blood dripping onto the floor were the only sounds. He lay there; motionless. The thuds were entering the silent room once again. The creaking of the wooden floor grew louder and louder. Still the light of the street lamp shone through
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Storm pulled the oversize sports bag off the back seat‚ unzipped it and took out the two backpacks stuffed inside. He swung the straps of the three bags over his shoulder and set off up the path to the surgery entrance. At the top of the steps‚ he tapped the five digits into the security control keypad. The was a metallic click from the lock mechanism‚ the lights flashed to verify the sequence was correct‚ and he turned the key. The oxygen tanks were easy to find inside the storage room‚ right where
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Changes: Creative Writing Project Writing a Poem In this project‚ you’ll be writing a poem which deals with any aspect of family discussed in the readings from the Changes unit. It could be a poem about your favorite family member (or your least favorite family member); it could be a poem about changes occurring in your family; it could be a poem about losing or gaining family members; it could be a poem about cultural traditions in your family. Writing a poem is a creative project‚ so be
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Seasons of flourish waves In the sizzling summer the long beach waves appear inviting. Smooth sand firstly greets us with their wild sense of heat. As near the view and sound of waves rumbling along the sea starts our excitement. The weather is perfect. Some people dive into the chill relaxing water like a family of dolphins‚ as others sunbath along us being like a group of lazy walruses resting. The atmosphere is comforting. Out beyond the heavy waves. I can see the three mystery islands that
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I haven’t seen many Scorsese films‚ which I am ashamed of. Nor have I been able to finish a Lynch film. I have the gall to call myself a film buff‚ and I haven’t many of these so-called masters. But this review isn’t about David Lynch‚ it’s about fast-talking film entrepreneur Martin Scorsese. And there’s been Taxi Driver‚ The Departed‚ Casino and now Shutter Island that I’ve seen. One thing I have been able to pick up from his movies‚ is that his subject matter tends to be either disconnected people
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Beasts Under Blankets It’s a night like any other… the sun is setting and it’s time for bed. Young Riley’s doting mom reads Riley a bedtime story and gently tucks her into her bed. As she goes to turn off the lights and leave‚ Riley becomes scared. “Mama aren’t you gonna check for monsters?” Riley asks‚ voice trembling. This question has become common since Riley has moved into her own room. To appease her fears‚ Riley’s mom searches high and low‚ looking under the bed‚ in the closet‚ and in every
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CHAPTER TEN Invasion of the Ugly Ogres We felt our way along like three blind mice through the morning fog. Until at last we left the cold‚ damp‚ mist behind and emerged into a backdrop of wind and grit. I was about to suggest we wait until tomorrow before crossing the kingdom when a set of powerful gray hands clamped around my ankle. “Back off‚ ugly.” I drew my sword. “Ah‚ the little brat‚ wants to play at being a bad boy?” the monster said in scorn. “Well‚ we’re tired of playing‚ kid. So now
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Far away‚ she sees the biggest volcano of Hawaii‚ Mauna Loa. Kailani looks down at her prosthetic leg and then looks back at the volcano. “ Well; I guess this is it Kiwi‚ hopefully we’ll make it all the way to the top. We really need to get that letter to rescue Father.” she said. “Roof” Kailani takes her very first steps towards the volcano. Her legs shaking with fear of what will happen. She worries that something might go wrong. Kailani starts to walk very slowly as she approaches a rock
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“What time did you say it was?” I asked. “Twenty past two‚” he said. (380) -- (Alternate ending) -- “Will it all be over now?” I asked. “What do you mean‚ over?” “Well‚ are we going to finally live the life we desired all this time?” He did not answer. I think it may be too early to ask him this question. He’s been to hell and back. I can’t imagine the way he feels. The same three words have constantly been echoing in my head: “Maxim killed Rebecca”. Over and over and over. It just never stops.
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Ernest lay in bed‚ laboriously breathing with turpentine and olive oil painted onto his throat for the war had not been good to him and the Spanish Flu was spreading like wildfire among the people in New York. Mother was sitting in a chair with frozen tears upon her pale cheeks‚ a deep red cascading from her wrists and flowing between her fingers. Her mouth was slightly ajar as though she wanted to say something. But desperation had silenced her forevermore and every voice she had was sewn together
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