A night in New York City On a late Saturday evening I was studying continuously when suddenly I heard a monotonous and awful scream which made me run out of the house immediately. When I reached outside I could not believe what I had seen. A two-storey and turquoise coloured house had caught on fire. People were rushing in and out of their square shaped houses bringing huge and heavy buckets of water trying to extinguish the ravaging and terrible fire. I was behind the crowd panicking‚ trembling
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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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Tonight at 8‚ the kidnapping of Liam Quinn a local 6-year-old boy. Details to come. A dead air fell over a vacant room‚ filled with the elements of childhood. An unoccupied race car bed‚ stark blue walls‚ and an idle toy train complimented the eerie - yet somber - atmosphere. A dark shadowy figure lurked in the corner‚ standing ten feet tall - no definite shape. Slithering onto the floor and over the bed‚ the figure moved with haste‚ attempting to lurk as an agent of subterfuge. Arriving at the
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Smoothly‚ the breeze danced over the resting people sitting on the wooden wall nearby Hudson River. The day was quiet as the grave to a wonder. The clear blue sky contrasted itself from dark‚ filthy smoke trying to push itself away from the active city. Adhesive sweat stuck into his indigo shirt and bulky footgear fastened the heat that wants to escape. The beaming sun cannot be shielded by sunglasses and he frowned his face. Immediately‚ the thought of baseball game
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Thus‚ comfortably seated with a pen on hand in the warm confines of my bed room‚ I started to pour down my thoughts into writing‚ quietly praying that he will be able to know‚ at least the extent of my emotions… Briefly written in a small parchment‚ I folded the paper into four and noticing how it started to our heavily outside‚ I pulled out my drawer and produced a red folded
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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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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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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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“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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