He sits on the steps in front of his brown house. One foot on the sidewalk the other leg bent at the knee. The orange glow of his cigarette held inches from his yellowing teeth. From inside the house he hears shouting. He stands‚ his light washed jeans are worn down at the knees. He stubs the cigarette in green ceramic ashtray on top of the wooden banister. Taking out a lighter‚ he walks over to his car. Placing one foot on the gray rear bumper‚ he lights a second cigarette. The luminescent street
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The plaid shirt was covering my tank top‚ the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the collar soaked with sweat. The faded red had been stained a dark crimson from the sweat pouring off me. I threw another bale onto the hayrack‚ straw getting caught in my shirt. I grabbed the open front of my shirt and shook free the straw. I rubbed the sleeve of the plaid shirt across my brow‚ to wipe away the sweat. I grabbed the final bale off the last hay rack of the day and threw it over the side‚ towards where
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This August I went on a trip to San Diego which was very entertaining. It started when my parents told me . I was happy but sad because I was going on a trip and sad because I had to wait a long time to go . We took a plane it was fun at the end only because someone got a toilet paper roll birthday cake. After me and my mom ‚ dad ‚ and grandma got off the plane we got our bags and waited for a taxi. The hotel was beautiful but they had horrible service . We got two rooms which we waited for 2hrs
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The trees coated in cold powdered water‚ and the ground was submerged in it. At least 2 feet deep‚ I could not give you the width if I had wanted to. This expansive terrain ran in all directions‚ and frozen white powdered water would lay like an infection for months to follow. I had a thick coat. It was safe to say that I was perfectly secure until weather conditions furthered. Luckily‚ the weather had been at a still for the last day or two. The sun beamed down upon the land with relevancy. I stopped
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rain. Waves rage upon the sand‚ sending sand back and forth as they go. They crash against the sea wall‚ shooting upwards and spraying the abandoned cafes and shops. Yachts begin to rock with the waves; they are like a gymnast balancing on a beam about to fall any second. The pier fights against the drowning waves as they attempt to bring it under the surface. Trees surrender at the battering wind‚ forcing leaves and branches to be torn off their trunks. A bird-usually so in control of its own destiny-fights
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anything. I stood there silent. Tears balanced on my eyelids because at that moment‚ I realized that I have been so ungrateful for what I have‚ while other young‚ beautiful girls around the world have nothing but a bed and a stuffed animal. I think about all my clothes‚ shoes‚ friends and family that
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A white fuzzy blanket‚ yet solid as a rock stared back at me as I peered through my foggy window waking to the sight of snow. The miniature gray couch serving as the centerpiece of my living room seemed cozy that night. On the other hand‚ its rough and awkward fibers made it uncomfortable. Without heat blasting through the vent to conserve our warmth‚ we grew even colder. The bustling sound of the wind knocking on my window layered with dangling icicles smothering my home and the homes nearby shook
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There ’s always that early morning rush and panic when you think you’re all set to go on holiday. You check you have packed everything and that the young children are settled and securely strapped in to their seats. As you drive away from the house your mind is going over a list of belongings you have packed when you realize you ’ve forgotten something. Luckily you’re only a few minutes down the road so your dad turns round and drives back. Of course there is always one person who has forgotten to
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Shingle Runners The woman smiles from across the room‚ shadows and moonlight contorting her mouth into a cheshire grin‚ sly and bloodthirsty. God‚ she could kill me right now and I’d still love her‚ he thinks‚ What a fool; can’t even trust my own head around a pretty girl. Smooth sax and piano is marred by the skipping of a disk in the room across the hall and laughter and soft amber light spills under the heavy oak door; the telltale signs of yet another couple retiring from the celebration.
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Writing About Conformity Everyone wants to be able to fit in somewhere. People love having a place where they feel like they belong. No matter who you are‚ or what you like to do‚ or even what you look like‚ there will always be a place where you belong. Nowadays people will do whatever they can to be able to be a part of something where they think they fit in. I believe if you just continue to be who you are‚ you will find your place in society. From a view point of a teenager in high school
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