likely was‚ I tried to recall where I had last been. Last I could remember‚ I had been in Gobir‚ fighting the Fulani warriors… Our general lead us into the village on the outskirts of Gobir‚ under cover of darkness. It was disturbing to see the burned out huts and charred foliage lit up only by the moon and the stars. The more we walked‚ the more we could see the effects of the hard-fought battles. We neared the village center. The well had been leveled. We took our positions in preparation for the
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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 fast. The momentum of the car pulling up that close almost made me roller over the hood. I put both my hands on the car‚ and pushed my self away. Stepping back on my right foot‚ my left foot caught under the tire. I screamed in pain‚ and yelled at
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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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Le Fou was a spectacular musician who loved to perform in front of spectators‚ and he loved playing all assortments of instruments. But by far‚ his favorite was the harp. Le Fou was infatuated by all string instruments‚ almost to the point of insanity. He enjoyed the feeling of the soft but coarse cords against his fingers. So when Le Fou heard the rumor of the golden harp he was obsessed‚ he had to find this “magical instrument”. Fortunately‚ Le Fou was born into a wealthy family and had inherited
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Absolutely nothing in this known world can break the silence—the room was lifeless. The floorboard painfully cries under the teacher’s fantastic high-heeled shoes; it invades the monastic stillness. Under the scrawls of a madman‚ written in a jet-black marker that has seen the end of its days a long time ago‚ slivers of the once pure whiteboard remains. My eyes dart towards the window as I stare at the barren tree branches; they shiver‚ afraid‚ in the thick cold and velvety air of winter. As my stoic
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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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In the book‚ On Writing Well by William Zinsser he stated his opinion in what he believes a good writer is. He believes that a good reader needs to have simplicity and be original to himself. He brings out many good point although I do not agree with all of his ideas. One of the method that I understand and can rather agree and disagree with is clutter. I would have to say that all clutter is not necessarily a bad writing choice. However‚ it should be used appropriately. In his book‚ he stated
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“Shut-up you idiot! Why the hell am I still with you Ben?” Snow barked‚ her voice pierces through the air. I left my girlfriend and headed for the car without a word‚ the echo of each step I make towards the doors that lead outside resonate inside my head as if the sound was mocking my emptiness. Even as I closed the door‚ she could still be heard swearing and throwing mess around. I’m sick of fighting with her every second of the day‚ but the thought of Snow leaving‚ well it just tears me in two
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the soaring trees overhead. This space has an X shaped side walk cutting through a garden. The garden makes it feel very peaceful‚ but yet there is still commotion going on with students walking to class. People interact with this space in several ways. I see people sitting on benches enjoying the beautiful surroundings‚ people studying‚ and also using it as a walkway. It is a very busy time of the day as several students are walking by me. I see people stopping to take pictures as they are coming
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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.” “Uh‚ yes I do‚” I snapped‚ not the least bit scared of the figure. I was never one to be afraid of anything. Except for clowns. And chihuahuas
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