New London. A place of opportunity. A place for the future. A place of fierce oppression. I grew up just like every other child in New London. We’re raised by parents that were raised just as us. We’re given predetermined jobs. Twenty thousand dollars is then given to the children when they reach seventeen as birth money. From there‚ they do their job. They’re given a wife at age thirty. And the circuit is repeated. Just as it has been for the last seven hundred years. Complete stability. Nothing
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I crouch alongside the Pennsylvania State House silently. I peek out from the edge towards the front door. Two guards stand on each side engaging in small talk. With a groan‚ I slump back against the building. How am I supposed to get in? I lean my head against the wall and look up toward the sky. The window directly above me suddenly opens and I freeze in fear. “Why are you opening that window? It’s out in the back hall!” “Well‚ I thought we could leave the door open and have a nice breeze flow
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I miss them already. Despite the freezing cold snow and the nipping air‚ we had a lovely Christmas break. As I inspect my child‚ now grown with children of her own‚ holding tickets back to their home‚ longing envelopes me. Hoards of people push past‚ unaware of my pain‚ on their own schedules and heading toward different trains‚ talking and texting on their cell phones. My family boards‚ time as if in slow-motion‚ and motions goodbye until I see them again. I can’t do anything but wave‚ a fake
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The Cattle Barn It’s a small lot on our farm‚ with white and red tin siding that many people overlook. It’s right next to the voluminous silver towers of our mill. It’s a place where many lessons are learned and see many “joys and discomforts” of agricultural life all throughout the year. Starting in the middle of December all the way to the beginning of July is where I get to watch my project grow and develop. As soon as the herd sees me stumbling down the hill‚ they race to the gate and acknowledge
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The adrenaline pumped through my veins. My heart was beating so loud and fast. There was the ball‚ held in the referee’s hands‚ about to be thrown up into the air. I stood a few feet behind the boy on the opposite team‚ poised and ready to catch the ball when my teammate smacked it toward me. Oh‚ I was so nervous. Suddenly the basketball hit my stomach with incredible force. It bounced off and rolled away on the floor to be picked up by the opposite team. The game had begun‚ and I had already dropped
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Something any soccer player wants most than anything in the world‚ a President’s Cup championship. Practice is the reason for these types of tournaments. All the practice and extra work I put in payed off. I put in so much hard word and dedication‚ you wouldn’t believe. We had to do a lot of conditioning and drills to get to this point. My team and I worked ourselves to the point of breakage. We worked all summer for this moment. We played against higher level teams to make us better‚ and that was
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Silver Bracelet It was selfish‚ I knew in that moment that it was selfish. My sister‚ Bridgette‚ was only six years old‚ and I took advantage of being only a year older than her. She was oblivious to what I was doing in that moment. We were at the arcade in the middle of July in Stone Harbor‚ NJ. We decided that after we were done playing all the games‚ that we would combine our tickets and split it. After about an hour‚ we came together to add up our tickets. To my surprise‚ she had won more tickets
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His ruthless heart on the ruby-splattered blade of its guiltless bearer‚ he dropped like a stone to the bloodstained turf‚ letting a cry of anguish blend in with the rapidly retreating footsteps of his cowering soldiers. He knew he would survive‚ but they didn’t‚ and at that moment in time them not knowing was what really mattered. He stared through his supposedly closed eyelids at his killer. A girl‚ this time‚ with blonde‚ wavy hip-length hair and startling cyan eyes. That was what got him that
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Carina Wallace English 111 Ms. Simmerman Jan. 22‚ 2015 My Second Home I wake up to the sound of laughter downstairs‚ and the smell of fresh hot biscuits in the oven. I sit up drowsily in bed; the sun is shining through the window‚ making little patterns of light on my sheets. I rise‚ feeling the coolness of the wood floor against my feet as they touch the ground. I walk to the closet and grab my faded old jeans; I slip them on‚ buttoning the snap in one fluid movement. I pull open the top drawer
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Childhood is like a magical sand castle on the shore. One moment it is there and the next washed away by the high tide. The beach is a special place through the eyes of an innocent girl. Remembering the warm summer days spent on the beach with her family. Her favorite part is feeling the dry sand trickle through her dainty hands. She explores from day to night trying to unravel the oceans mysteries. The beach contains little things that bring her joy and childhood memories which have not been washed
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