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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Once there was a girl. A girl that didn’t think she ever mattered. Sure‚ she had good parents and decent grades‚ but she never thought herself to be worth anymore than a plastic wrap on the ground. The girl isolated herself whenever she could‚ only speaking when it was required by her teachers. Even so‚ half the grade thought she was mute. She learned a fair amount of sign language to encourage the rumor‚ just so that more people would leave her alone. If anyone had truly paid attention to her
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‘Please take a seat‚ I will be back in a second’ Said Mr. Alford‚ as he pointed his hand towards the lounge. I nodded gently as I walked pass my parent’s old bedroom. As I looked around‚ the bedroom itself hadn’t changed much since I was a little kid; I haven’t seen it in a while thought. I remember how I came in here a lot in the middle of a thunderstorm at night to wake my mother up‚ as I was too scared to sleep by myself. My father hated that! However‚ my mother always laughed her head off as
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Insomnia A/N: I don’t ship EreRi‚ but this was surprisingly easy to write. And quite enjoyable. I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m now going to cry because I’m a piece of shit who doesn’t know how to prioritise and is really‚ really stressed because of it. . . . For the fourth time in a row‚ Eren can’t sleep. Throwing the sheets away from his body‚ clammy and gross as shit‚ Eren scrubs his hands over his face and emits a groan of frustration. He (figuratively
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Creative writing: Achievement standard 2.4 Title: Insanity Statement of intent: This piece was influenced by my feelings and thoughts on mental illness and how society deals with it. The piece itself is a metaphor of looking beyond a person’s appearance and what they are truly dealing with inside. I have experienced the effects of a mental illness and how it effects your daily routine. The perspective is a doctor who is working with a mentally sick patient and has to tell her she is making no progress
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Descriptive Writing – The forest. [pic] A crisp winter morning and there was a frosty chill in the air. A sweet surrendering scent of the moist morning dew that cascades all around the sublime forest. The mixed cool autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; they were in the motion of turning a brittle brown. There was the sound of shattered glass that emphasised the leaves being crunched‚ as if you were to step on them‚ pushing their papery remains deep into the
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The Curious Traveller. If you only had a certain amount of time to live‚ would you live every day to the most of it? Well that’s what I have to do. I turned 40‚ 4 days ago and a week ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I was told I only have a few months to live. This is when I decided I had to make the most of the next few months; I decided I wanted to travel the world. I have 2 daughters‚ Tahlia (12yrs) and Molly (15yrs)‚ I also have a son‚ Chris (16yrs). My husband was there when we were told
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Just like every other day after school‚ Katie was taking a shortcut across a meadow to get home. She was walking in the meadow‚ surrounded by tall‚ green grass and flowers in all colours of the rainbow. She decided to explore the meadow and the forest surrounding it. She walked towards the forest‚ picking flowers on the way. Katie was so busy twisting the flower stems together to make necklaces‚ that she didn’t see the large hole a few meters ahead of her. Tumbling into the deep hole‚ Katie hit her
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Analyzation of Two Poems Melinda Polom September 12‚ 2013 I will first be giving to you‚ my analyzation of the short poem‚ titled‚ "First Fig"‚ written by author‚ Edna St. Vincent Millay‚ who was born in the year of 1892‚ and died in the year of 1950. I am at first‚ making the assumption that‚ when the author is speaking about a candle‚ which "burns at both ends"‚ that she must be comparing a candle‚ and the "light that it gives out”‚ using the candle‚ as a symbol‚ or as a “representative”
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The General pretended to sleep‚ hoping no one was watching her. She knew McKenzie’s men were angry with her‚ but they weren’t looking at the whole picture. She slid from her bedroll and snuck around the trees to where the horses were tied up. In the darkness it was hard to see‚ but she finally located her horse and led it away from camp. “And just where do you think you’re going?” A voice sounded loudly behind her. The General clenched her heart as it pumped wildly and spun around‚ staring
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