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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The Chase My wrists started to ache terribly as I trudged along the hard concrete road. Usually‚ when I took this route home‚ I passed all sorts of strange looking people. Where we lived‚ was an odd place‚ the people there were very friendly‚ but sometimes too friendly‚ getting in the way of your private life‚ asking personal questions that you didn’t really know how to answer. But on this particular night‚ a humid night at that‚ there was absolutely no sound to be heard. Not even the squeal of
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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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Black Dog is based off of a stream of concious I did in February during one of my many routine walks through a cemetery near my house. It was night time‚ and everything was cold and damp. But the moon made this atmosphere that I just loved that I 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
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As I wake up lying in my bed doused in sweat from the nightmare I just had‚The same Nightmare that I have every night the last thing I ever saw. The accident. Before the accident I was a normal kid no scars‚ no getting made fun of and certainly wasn’t blind. I didn’t want another day of getting made fun of just because I was different. Still I got out of my sweat drenched bed and got ready for another day of dread. I barely made it to the bus and I sat in the first seat I found with nobody in it
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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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I inhaled the night time city smells of street food‚ sweat‚ cigarettes‚ and garbage‚ as I stepped toward the bus. I hadn’t taken two steps before someone shoved me to the side and dashed down the street weaving through people like a true professional. I tottered and nearly fell‚ but I kept my balance. Annoyed‚ I swept my gaze throughout the crowd and saw the rude stranger- a young man‚ maybe in his late teens‚ with thick black hair‚ dressed in a dark gray t-shirt and jeans. For a moment‚ he looked
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The Beach. A storm brews above. People escape the beach‚ quickly grabbing their possessions as rain spits down on them. Music from cafes and fare rides come to a halt as their customers quickly disappear and the happy sounds of laughter echo around the empty beach. A gloomy shadow descends over the sea. Feeble light from the few surviving streetlights and lanterns appear to dim as the dark clouds move across the sky like a creeping panther. Birds silence their song and flee to safer places. Sandcastles
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Eagle River No wifi. No Service. No way to connect to the outside world except through the ancient landline phone hanging on the wall labeled with the numbers of the Eagle River library‚ the home phone‚ and pizza take out. The door screeches open; the rustic smell of the cabin fills the air and the aged wooden floor gives a small creak when stepped on. The two cabins have room to hold three families at a time‚ however the quick race to claim the rooms soon begins. As always‚ the kids end up in the
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A dozen squealing‚ laughing little girls tugged my arms‚ legs and hands. They were so excited to show me their bedroom. Meeting all the orphans at the Colima‚ Mexico orphanage was very overwhelming and very emotional. At first‚ I felt very out of place‚ like seeing grass during a Michigan winter. All these kids surrounding me right now have no families and have nobody to love them. These kids were all beautiful in their own way and really knew how to make you smile without even trying.They were like
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