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    Kendrick Creative Writing

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    The teacher looks at her roster with one eye and at me with the other‚ asking‚ a bit curiously‚ “Do you go by Kendrick?” I nod my head‚ in a staid manner: yes‚ I do go by Kendrick. But I understand where she’s going: it’s such an unusual name‚ one that she doesn’t see often‚ and people with unusual names often go by something else. I don’t; for the most part‚ I like my name. Later that day‚ someone says “Hey‚ Kendrick‚” passing me in the hallway. My brain freezes for a second; I have no idea who

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    Gertrude Creative Writing

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    The sharp burst of lighting cut through the darkness of the room and illuminated my ex-wife. If I were in my right mind I would have sent her packing back to her lake house in the Hamptons. But I let her stay for the rest of the night. She needed my help and I couldn’t bring myself to flout her. God forbid something were to happen to the broad‚ well‚ I’d censure myself for the rest of my life. For the mean time‚ Gertrude would be adjunct to my life and I would have to put up with it. A long chat

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    (ME) “Today is THE day! The day I finally get to be welcomed into the King`s castle.” Well… not exactly the ‘king’ yet… but I am here for the coronation of the King; King Macbeth. Macbeth invited me to the castle as a reward for helping the community. I entered the Great Banquet Hall and the whole room is filled with splendor; I smell the great feast being slowly roasted to perfection in the kitchen‚ I hear the laughter of fellowship; it feels like paradise. As I am being escorted to my spot at the

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    At 0713 on the 31st of February‚ thirty-two minutes before he had to leave for work‚ Moss dragged himself out of bed amidst the roar of rain pummeling against his capsule’s window. He showered in the cramped communal bathroom‚ drank his Honcho™ in his cramped doorway next to his cramped kitchen counter‚ and sat down on his cramped desk. As he pulled up a paperback copy of The NEON Patriot‚ he spied a figure blocking the ghost insignia on his window. Twenty minutes left. He wasn’t expecting guests

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    CHAPTER TEN The following morning‚ I try on my tennis clothes. I glance in the bedroom mirror. Yuck. The skirt is too short‚ and the top fits snug. I grab my racket and swing. Not bad. At least‚ Michael knew which racket was right for me. I sit on the bed to check my emails when I notice several texts. One if from Zack‚ the art director‚ who tells me that Simon’s driving him crazy. And that my office is ready‚ down the hall from his. I reply. “Chill if possible. See you on Monday.” The second

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    Bullying Creative Writing

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    I lean forward‚ the tips of my fingers on the track‚ back foot at a ninety degree angle from the ground. My eyes dart towards the tree about a hundred metres away from where I am. Dad blows the whistle; a high-pitched squeal that echoes throughout the isolated park.   I push my whole body forward with my back foot‚ and I’m at seventy percent of my full speed for the first sixty metres.   The brown grass beneath me is soft and I’ve reached sixty metres now‚ and the once hidden beast inside me has

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    Sam gasped when she felt the bonds fall from her wrists and feet. Loki helped her to sit and a blanket appeared to cover her. The angry and incensed god turned slow to face his followers. A snap of his fingers had Connor’s father before him and bound in chains- the same chains that had earlier held his son. A wave of his hand had the exits sealed closed. Sam took a measure of satisfaction in the panicked murmurs around the group. “You have one opportunity now‚ godhi‚ to tell me why I was called

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    Packers Creative Writing

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    In the Fall of 2010‚ I watched my first televised football game from beginning to end. I sat down beside my older brother‚ Nick‚ and watched him as he analyzed every play of a Green Bay Packers game. He would scream at the tv when a bad play happened but would rejoice when a good one followed. I wanted to be just like him and know everything about football. I watched every game that season and annoyingly asked Nick every question that came to mind throughout the year. On February 6th‚ 2011 the Green

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    The Rebirth My body laid stiff as board. I didn’t feel pain just my back pressed against the hard concrete cement. I yelled and screamed for him‚ but I couldn’t move. Then I pass out. I woke up to unbearable pain as the freezing cold air from the ambulance pieced my open wounds. The screams of horror and torture fill the cavity of the ambulance as I begged for anything to make the pain stop. I pass out again. Suddenly‚ I woke up with a thin unmistakable white hospital sheet laid over my body up

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    Flood - Creative Writing

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    Another night of that bloody rain again. God I hate winter. Lying in my bed‚ the pound of each raindrop as it is thrown from the heavens onto my roof rings in my ears. The gusts of wind freeze the hairs on my neck straight. Snuggling down into my bed‚ I feel a warm‚ almost happy sensation as my blankets form a protective cocoon around me‚ saving me from the terrible monster brewing outside my window. My eyelids attempt to glue themselves shut as I feel relaxation consume my sore old body. It all

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