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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was. He was rarely home when my sister Haley and I slept over‚ so all three of us would rummage through his things. We were always told not to even come close to touching his band equipment but we never really listened to that. We later found out about a man named Tony Lovato‚ my cousin’s semi-good friend with whom he jammed out with every once in a while. Many know of this man as the lead singer to the band Mest‚
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we watched our house become nothing by the destruction of the tractor‚ I watched all the happy memories fade away. I cried for weeks and weeks‚ not realizing that all that time I could help repair and not destroy our family. I wasn’t even thinking about other families‚ just myself. I knew that was selfish‚ but I was only a child. There were probably a bunch of people that passed away and I was crying because I didn’t have a home. What if my brother was still in the bathroom and he could have died
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As rain poured down in thick blankets over Lazy Town‚ faint‚ muffled breaths could be heard from deep within the lair of none of other than the owner himself‚ Robbie Rotten. His plump‚ rosebud like lips rested half an inch apart to allow air in and out while he slept‚ giving him the most kissable look in the entire world. Not to mention the small strand of saliva slowly rolling it’s way down Robbie’s cheek onto the presumably silk covered pillows (only the best kind of fabrics for the number one
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The sun shone down brightly as Tyler and Zoe pulled into the parking lot. Its bright rays reflected by the white snow covering the trees around them. The sound of their doors opening and closing scared the few birds left in the forest. Their speedy escape shook the tree limbs. Their rustling mixed with the flapping of wings created a torrent of sound in this peaceful place. “It looks amazing‚” Zoe’s voice sounded harsh to Tyler. The last few miles of the ride they had been in near silence.
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Teaching a Descriptive Writing Gender: Grade :5 Date:25.Nov.2013 Time:45 minutes General Goal(s): ◆ students will learn the elements of descriptive writing. ◆They will understand the parts of a descriptive paragraph ◆will be able to generate a descriptive paragraph. Teacher Instructions Objectives: ◆ Students will identify the elements of descriptive writing. ◆ Students will write to describe using all five senses. Outcomes: At the end of class student are expected to be able
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The whispers are about me‚ Dexter Brown. For the reason that I’m blind and have scars on my eyes. I’m walking in the school‚ hearing each and every whisper‚ people in the hallway laughing at me and wondering why this was happening to me. As I get to my locker Hank is there
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Describe the scene at a train station It is 8 o’clock in the morning at Liverpool train station‚ the busiest hour throughout the whole day‚ it’s also known as the rush hour. Trains of all imaginable colours gradually draw to a halt‚ causing a slightly burned smell from the brakes. As the automatic doors fly open‚ continuous flows start of people shoving and pushing‚ rushing to get off into the already crowded station. The noise of the tannoy is hidden beneath the murmur of the crowds of people
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I remember the events of 9/11 like they were yesterday. The enormous‚ burning building collapsing to the ashy ground‚ people desperate to stop the plane that was being flown at 600 miles per hour‚ the impact of when the plane collided with the building‚ the screams and cries for help‚ along with my fellow passengers calling their loved ones to say they’re not going to make it. Yes‚ I said my fellow passengers. My name Lauren Kriewitz‚ and I am a survivor of the treacherous 9/11 attack. My flight
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The Fosdyck family is running through the airport‚ pulling our suitcases behind us. Parents all around us are doing a mental roll-call to make sure they haven’t lost any little ones along the way. Outside the huge glass windows that line every corridor‚ airplanes’ engines are heard. We board our flight‚ kids‚ parents‚ and grandparents‚ and buckle up. We stayed in a cabin on the beach. When I say beach I mean a rocky‚ windy shoreline with lots of ocean spray. My brothers played outside and chased
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