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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huge‚ wiry man dressed in a tan leather jacket‚ a white shirt with some strange dark splattering on it‚ and jeans‚ who had definitely not been there a few seconds ago‚ stared down at me. His large eyes were green and bloodshot; they had a crazy look about them. I recognized him as the man who had entered after the other boy into the alley. “The letter. Give it to me‚” he rasped. His rank breath hit me as he spoke the words‚ “You have no idea what that is.”
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“Bro these guys are huge! We are about to get beat so bad. And look how fast they are.” Austin Blake was usually never intimidated. As the captain of the defense he was generally so stoic you would have thought there was no one he couldn’t beat. His attitude always inspired confidence and tenacity in us. He was our fearless leader. But today it seemed as if his lack of confidence was just a foreshadowing of yet another total mental and physical collapse of a team in the face of Westwood High school
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gulped in some much needed air. The camp was just a small clearing off the road. A fire pit sat in the middle with about ten logs around it. There were no tents or signs of shelter aside from a couple of low hanging branches that could provide some protection from a light rain or a particularly bright sun. A thin river ran at the far end of the camp‚ which was a small incline about ten feet deep with a couple of willows and an assortment of other trees that benefit from the running water. I took
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Sparta Essay By: Belle Cardwell The rain; it’s calming like my mother’s grasp around me‚ engulfing me with warmth. That is over‚ though. Today is the Flagellation Day. It’s the day that proves if you’re man enough to become a Spartan Warrior. The heavy beatings and rude nature of the Flagellation go completely against my name‚ Charis. Charis‚ in Greek‚ means loving‚ kind‚ or loyal. I decided a long time ago that I should just forget the meaning behind my name and focus on being a good warrior. The
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