September 12‚ 1988‚ I was 13 years old. It was about week into the beginning of the new school year. Every child was very happy going back to school. I tried on my uniform the night before school. I was very excited‚ because it was first day at a new school (Highgate All Age). Most of my friends from primary school were also in attendance. I remembered listening to the radio and heard the meteorologist said‚ “It is coming It is definitely coming‚ Hurricane Gilbert is coming.” That was a day before
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had to write about it. It should also be noted that it was around valentine’s day and I was thinking about my “perfect” mate (don’t judge me‚ you’ve done that before) This piece is also about on how I would be a “perfect” mate‚ and how I would have to change in order to actually protect who and what I love. Now‚ a problem I ran into was that after I had personified the storm cloud in such an evil manner‚ the wolf character seemed like her had to chase after her‚ and just thinking about it just made
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Puffy clouds were floating on the radiant blue sky. The murky‚ sticky air surrounded the peaceful New York. Contaminated ominous smoke belch out from skyscrapers across the river. Rigid cement was about to melt down‚ animals stayed underground and people began sweltering as if they were the farmers below the fierce sun. Smoothly‚ the breeze danced over the resting people sitting on the wooden wall nearby Hudson River. The day was quiet as the grave to a wonder. The clear blue sky contrasted itself
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As a young girl‚ I experienced what at the time I thought was the end of the world. Yes‚ I was a little bit of a drama queen. At the age of eleven‚ and on my way to a ballet recital a woman who was careless pulled under an awning in a non-parking zone in front of The Girls Club. I was running to catch up with my group. I looked left and right and proceeded to walk under the awing to the parking lot across from the building. From the corner of my eye’s I saw a white car pull up in front of me very
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but finding her face I hesitate. My chest begins to burn‚ cringing in pain I struggle to hold emotion from showing‚ my heart screams for comfort and my mind beckons for help. The pain killing me from the inside‚ I feel disgusted with myself‚ shamed about how selfish I’m being. Racing to the car I hold back my tears‚ it feels as if my head will explode any moment. I feel it coming‚ my eyes are hurting‚ hands trembling‚ trying to unlock my car before I fall apart for someone to see‚ slamming the door
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Queens of The Stone Age‚ Clutch‚ Monster Magnet‚ maybe even The Grateful Dead prior to the passing of Jerry Garcia! I forget my earlier misconceptions and start to daydream of that type of life; living from day to day‚ not worried about what must be done‚ only worried about what you want to do. I could travel from town to town following my favorite band in a rusty old dust covered Volkswagen bus. I could live off the land‚ surviving on only what Mother Nature and the goodwill of strangers provided
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I was pulled into the waters by the current. My heart pounded against the waters. My eyes were tightly shut‚ and I could feel my hair slapping my face wildly. For a moment‚ I forgot how to breathe. And then it hit me‚ I was about to drown. What should I do‚ this was it‚ this is so the end‚ all these thoughts ran through my brain. I felt suffocated under the pressure‚ but I calmed myself down. I tried to kick my feet loose from the seaweed. Once I freed myself‚ I kicked up to
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It’s almost last call. It has reached the point in the night where the sensible members of society have left‚ leaving only the hopeless drunks and a few young couples too lost in trivial conversation to realize the bar is closing soon. That’s a lie. This place doesn’t bring in any sensible people‚ in fact it hardly brings anyone in at all anymore. I like to remember how it used to be—so full of life and genuinely pleasant—and pretend that’s still the way it is. But this bar in particular‚ which I
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Someone shuffles next to me who coughs weakly vibrating the bed. Puzzled‚ my neck twists around to catch myself gawping at the same golden eyes. Occasional snorts and grunts escape from the loftier man who hovers over shielding her from me as if I was about to pounce onto her. I try to question her presence just as her gaze alters to the man followed by the flowing brown colour of her hair. The question queried earlier seemed to bother her as she asks it again but from me. “How come your skin be black
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I awoke that day to the sounds of men yelling and whips cracking‚ people screaming and chains rattling. I had no idea where I was. Though I had a splitting headache‚ I could tell I was moving‚ on something like a stretcher. I opened my eyes slightly‚ and saw that I was being carried by some men who appeared to be Fulani‚ along some sort of beach. I assumed I was on the coast‚ for when I glanced toward the sea it appeared to go on until it met the horizon. After understanding where I likely was
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