My name is Kamilu. It is the only name I’ve ever heard and now what I call myself. I have grown up in a homeless shelter‚ in the beautiful lands of India. As a child this place never scared me even when I was alone at night with no mother to give me comfort. These old brick walls are my home. It is filled with the only people I’ve known my entire life. The superannuated streets are enclosed by the very building which the emperors lived. The walls are rich as the white pearl of gold. It has been carved
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MY MOTHER There is a quote that says: “Mothers are angels who teach their kids to fly”. I truly think that mothers are angels. Although‚ I always thought that mothers were sent to this world to be mean with their kid specially in their adolescent years when we would rather go to a party with our friends instead of cleaning our rooms or reading books. Despite that mothers are known for being ’’super women.’’ What makes a mother so special? When I was little I remember that she used to play with
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My Grandmother’s House My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. I lived with my grandmother for many years when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. When walking in the front door of her house‚ there is a stairway as long as the Red River. It leads to the main hallway of the house. The strong smell of cigarette smoke would tickle my nose by the time I made it to the hallway. My grandmother’s house was always
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Hello‚ Goodbye. I take my first step and duck my head into the too small plane. My nerves start to electrify as the realization sinks in that I am going to be in a different country in less than two hours. The minutes seem to drag on and on as I listen to the guy next to you snoring and the kid behind me kicks the back of my chair. The pilots’ rough voice comes on the intercom and says "Howdy folks‚ just wanna let you know that we are getting ready to land and we should be there in about ten short
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liked to read in my childhood. In my most of childhood‚ I hold a book most of time in my hand. I really liked to read a book‚ especially oriental fantasy book. One thing different from now is the book was Korean but now is English. When I was in high school in Korea‚ I hated not only reading but also writing in English. Because every time I read English paragraph‚ there was at least one vocabulary I didn’t understand and I had to open up the dictionary and looked it up. In my high school‚ they
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precisely the thrill and excitement of having survived the ride that keeps me coming back for more. My first experience with a carnival ride was a giant roller coaster in six flag. Looking at that looming monstrosity spinning the life out of its sardine-caged occupants‚ I was dumbstruck. It was huge‚ smoky‚ noisy and not a little intimidating. Ever since that initial impression became fossilized in my imagination many years ago‚ these rides have reminded me of mythical beasts‚ amazing dinosaurs carrying
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there’s only one in my mind‚ namely my ex-girlfriend‚ Jamila. She is very impatient‚ she’s has a nag of wanting everything to be on time no later than a minute late and She’s also very emotional For insistence‚ on Facebook if she sees a girl comment on my picture she jumps to conclusion of me cheating on her and breaks down. My other reason is that she’s a liar she thinks lying is the best objectives to get her own way and to deceive people me in particular. In my years of dating my ex Jamila she was
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digital camera. It is like one of my children. I go everywhere with it and when I don’t have I always feel like something is missing. It helps me bring my creative side to life and gives me just the shot I am looking for. It is heavy and sometimes a pain to carry but the weight is worth it for the end results. It has endless settings that I can adjust to achieve what it is I am trying to create. When I look through the view finder I look at a whole new world. My camera consists of a body and a
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Savannah Neely October 3‚ 2013 The Haunted House As I stood‚ staring bleakly at the dilapidated house. Chills ran down my spine. I forgot my jacket‚ I thought to myself. The twojackets‚ three pairs of pants‚ 4 pairs of fuzzy socks‚ and boots could not keep me warm against the deathly cold. The walkway up to house were cracked. Weeds emerged out from these cracks. Briars were growing wildly in thick batches by the gate. The moonlight cast a
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coffee tickled the tip of my nose just seconds before a noise so loud roared in my ear like a fire engine screaming through my bedroom. As I wiped the grit from last night’s sleep from the corners of my eyes‚ the bright light hit them. I slung my arm like an elephant trunk on top of the alarm to find the snooze button. I heard a faint voice in the background calling my name. "Kayla‚ are you up?" echoed down the stairs in the deep male voice of my dad. While stretching my hands and feet to the four
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