ball in my hands and blue cleats in my peripheral vision. In that moment‚ all I could hear were the voices in my head yelling "no". My position as goalie contradicts many of my human instincts. The voices tell me not to sacrifice my body to save a shot‚ but I have been trained to do so. Anxiousness fills my body as I hit the ground‚ but relief overcomes my mind when I feel the ball inside my palms. The details of this image are a blur. I can only remember where this took place and when. The people
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Analyzing: “The Victims” by Sharon Olds “The Victims” by Sharon Olds is a poem‚ which gives us an elaborated and refined view of a tortured family in our modern society. It describes the immature resentment of the young speaker and her family towards the father‚ and the more mature expression of sympathy of the grown up speaker. The poem is divided into two parts‚ easy to spot due to a sudden change in the verb tenses‚ speaker‚ tone and purpose. The first part of the poem‚ transmits to the reader
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The Blue Wall of Silence Beru Cakrazli "Charlie! Charlie‚ come back here!” Her German Shepard’s scruffy tail wagged from side to side as he raced away from Anna. "It’s early. The grass is damp. The wind is brisk. The birds are chirping. Prospect Park is filled with people. Just not my dog." Anna heard the echoes of people screaming and Charlie barking. She rushed towards the commotion‚ sheer terror masking her face. "Someone call an ambulance!" A knock sounded at the door. "Commissioner Hyde
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Oh gosh a new school‚ a new year. I never liked this moving back and forth thing every time Dad gets a new job. There is no point in making friends‚ but this year will be different I thought‚ as I waited for the bus to arrive. I started to see the ugly mustard yellow bus approach me. As the door to the bus opened‚ the smell of damp‚ wet towels that have been sitting in a pile for weeks on end ‚and overly sweet perfume punched me in the face. “Maby this year won’t be so different after all‚” I thought
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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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wounds or makes one’s life a little better‚ a little more enjoyable or productive. It’s easy to talk about these things‚ much harder to do them. I think the only one who can help you is you‚ just the same as the only one who can help me is me. I’m writing about the actual work of change‚ what is sometimes called transformation. We might get ideas from others and that can be good. Especially if we know that person has lived the change they’re preaching. We might even agree to work with some mentor as
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Then he was being kissed deeply‚ and for a moment his eyes shot open. When he realized what was happening‚ Haru was kissing him‚ Haru was kissing him like he was the last drop of water and he was parched. Makoto then let his eyes slip shut‚ and made a pleased noise that was promptly swallowed by Haru. Haru pulled
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Fried Chicken Monster comes closer to my dad. Boom! my dad punches the Fried Chicken Monster. They begin to fight‚ my mom gets the phone to call 911. My sister and I start screaming and yelling‚ stop! Stop!. Boom! Pow! Pow! The gun sounds off . My dad shot the Fried Chicken Monster three times. Knock! Knock! We hear a knock at the door. My mom opens the door and it’s the police asking questions. “It’s over now”! Says my dad to the Fried Chicken monsters red bloody body.
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The car ride home was quiet‚ just how Allie wanted it to be. She didn’t have enough patience to deal with Rumlow’s snarky comments‚ especially when he thought her fate was doomed. However‚ she saw that Fury was still alive‚ which changed her future substantially. When the car finally arrived to it’s destination‚ Allie quickly opened her door merged her way into the house. "You should clean yourself up‚" Rumlow suggested as he followed her inside. Allie turned her head around to face him and nodded
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they were building. But frequently memories would flood in through cracks in the wall and she would remember. She remembered dirty cobblestones and grey skies‚ the sound of her shoes on the road and the eggs that fell from her hands when the gunfire shot. Wide eyed‚ she had continued on‚ past the broken glass‚ bloodied snow and the skeletons of trees. It had all come to an end‚ as it always does‚ after years of burning flags‚ protests‚ fighting‚ greed and word that stuck in her throat‚ a word that
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