Chills running up my spine‚ rapid foggy breathes expelling in front of me like a car on a cold morning. The clock running down second by second with green illumination‚ it said we only played 4 periods of hockey‚ but truly we played 6 with triple overtime. I feel exhausted and wonder how much more I can give without collapsing. I grab my water bottle and begin to drink‚ and the distinct taste of iron from the water in the iron range rolls down my throat. Suddenly one of our players starts with full
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The night was cold and quiet as if the whole city block went to sleep. With nothing but silent raindrops and distant voices‚ I wake up from my four hour slumber and looked at the time. Glancing at the clock on my computer‚ the numbers on the screen clearly says 12:20 pm. “Yeah‚ today is Halloween‚” I think to myself sarcastically. Suddenly‚ I hear a loud rumble‚ like the earth was being shaken for a firm moment. Realizing the sound‚ I end up finding out that my stomach was just hungry. Famished to
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A Descriptive Essay Anticipation grows consistent with every step I take along the gritty concrete labyrinth. Beneath a blazing sun‚ the smell of baked asphalt‚ sugary cola‚ and pretzel surround me. I follow the unpainted‚ gray chain fence that leads me forward. Overhead the deafening whirl of metal and screams briefly fill the hot air. The consistent drone of greasy motors and hissing pneumatics engage my curiosity. My heart rushes like a child on Christmas morning about to receive a favorite
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The world seems hazy‚ like clouds have drifted into my vision and blinded me‚ forcing me to rely on my other senses. I listen‚ open up my ears to the world‚ but hear nothing except the occasional thud of heavy‚ ghost-like footsteps off in the distance. And then it is quiet‚ everything goes quiet‚ like all sound has been voided out of my ears‚ gone forever‚ leaving me trapped inside a prison that I don’t know how to escape. Suddenly‚ I feel the pounding in my head‚ a sharp‚ shooting pain‚ that
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The morning sunlight‚ slipping through a thin opening through the tent‚ reached in to tap my cheeks with a tinge of warmth. Laying on my back‚ my sleeping bag clinging tight to my Autumn chilled body‚ I began listening to the glorious melodies of the nearby river singing its way through the valley. Soon I noticed small heaps of leaves that gathered on the top of the mesh roof of my pentagonal shaped tent. Above them‚ was a spattering of leaves that had just parachuted from their trees‚ gracefully
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delved into the written word I began to recognize writing as a powerful tool for expression. I turned to poetry and short stories to capture childhood moments‚ expanding my vocabulary and becoming skilled at transferring raw emotions and ideas onto paper. My parents encouraged me to make frequent trips to the library‚ and I often staggered home beneath the weight of a pile of novels. When I entered high school as a published author and poet‚ my writing continued to mature. Although I still marveled
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My buckling legs trudge towards the fireplace to resume my task.The aching in my back resorts to unbearable as my hand reaches for the metal bucket.I squeeze the side of my rib in hopes of lessening the pain but it gets worse. It gets really worse. Unable to bear it any longer‚my knees buckle and I fall on the hardwood floor.My hands grip my sides‚hoping to stop the sudden pain‚but my attempts are futile. My bones crack as I crouch down in agony.But I know I can’t stay on the floor any longer
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Essay - Men crying - revise Name: Bryan Class: 6B If your male friends are crying‚ what will you do? Laughing at him or trying to console him? John smith said that “in women‚ crying is excusable; however‚ in men‚ crying is a mark of weakness.” Nowadays‚ the society both allow men and women to cry. However‚ when men cry‚ people will feel that men are not strong anymore‚ but when women cry‚ people will console them and try to help them. I agree with Smith’s argument. I think crying in men is a
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Its frosty air makes warm breath turn to a slight translucent haze; continuos sound echo’s around the glossy polished tiling covering the whole bathroom. Being night only reflections from the window lightens the room‚ making silhouettes. Broken mirror shattered sharp like knives over the floor‚ picks up rays which dance along the window sill‚ moist air made it seem like a shower had been taken‚ letting off a putrid smell‚ as though something was withering away in the corner and had been forgotten
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The old trees bordering the fields acted like guards‚ muffling the sound of the busy city around them and creating a peaceful haven for the small creatures that lived inside. The only entrance was a narrow path that gradually widened as it ran through the field and up the hill. It was lined at either side with different types of tree; thin birches‚ broad maples and tall sycamores. Their long branches intertwined creating a golden canopy over the path. The only sound was the rustle of the leaves as
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