The War of Persuasion ‘’Team listen up‚ TEAM listen up! Pray‚ what would our coach want us undeserving men to do on a dark night like this when the fearing wolves howl amongst the trees? We gotta wait for the team to arrive so we shall sit by the fire together‚ c’mon team‚ let’s warm up our bodies. Remember boys‚ God loves all men‚ team‚ he does.’’ Only one of the members from the team that had arrived at the cabin looked up‚ the firelight dancing in his eyes‚ the gold-braid in his hair glowing
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Putting the mask over his face‚ Erik stared into the mirror. His one-sided conscience told him that destroying the property of families and friends is hilarious. “Let’s go!” Arthur‚ the sidekick begged to start vandalising. The two high school boys got into the black Jeep. Erik grabbed the brown bat. There were red streaks in the groves of the bat. Smashing the window‚ Erik began to hit the mailboxes. Arthur’s car engine roared‚ wanting destruction. The mailboxes cried. Brown‚ black‚ pink‚ orange
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said a few seconds later‚ hoping that it was true. Eight months into Megan’s pregnancy the car door hit her womb causing the baby to die. Ryan and Megan were not the typical couple. Megan was not able to conceive traditionally‚ so they attempted to use In-Vitro Fertilization to help them conceive. Their first attempt failed horribly and with their second try they got pregnant. “Th-this is my fault.”‚ Megan said‚ sobbing. “I-I should have watched where I was walking.”‚ she stuttered. As Ryan
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A pleasant village of loving Kwakiutls once resided near the coasts of the magnificent ocean‚ the Pacific. The cozy village was prosperous‚ for their waters were blessed with an abundance of salmon‚ and each being in the village donned in cloaks of riches woven by Mother Earth herself. For hundreds of peaceful moons‚ the people of this village operated cooperatively‚ with kind hearts and content minds. But alas‚ darkness loomed over‚ and an age of darkness began. As if an omen has been cast upon
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The tree doesn’t sway anymore. It used to dance‚ hover and protect the large brick house with its delicate‚ elegant branches. Dainty leaves would be released from the tips after a brief gust of wind and float gracefully onto the brick roof. Thick branches would tangle together‚ rejoicing in unison‚ sharing trails of ivy between the tiny gaps. It doesn’t do that anymore. Adara always made an effort to keep everything in pristine condition. She was careful to line the frail bushes parallel to the
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avoid going in to detail. Our rights are constantly discriminated. When it rains the shelter is useless‚ so it is impossible to sleep which makes the days more difficult being so sleep deprived. We had to build it ourselves with little materials to use. Our roof is poorly thatched‚ our beds made of straw and old rags. Cooking over a water-logged wet stove with pots and pans we made ourselves simply just does not work. We are given one ragged pair of shoes‚ and three pairs of underwear each year. You
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In late September after Rico‚ a low level crack dealer in North Las Vegas‚ was picked up on charges‚ he was asked why he was now dealing on the street. He said someone was renovating the old homeless shelter and the tweekers who normally ruled the place were all gone. * * * The sheriff looked at the picture attached to the missing person’s report. Carmel was a beauty queen. Her homecoming picture showed the blonde was tall and shapely‚ with a youthful innocence despite the fact that the man next
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The Story of an Hour Themes and Literary Elements Lora Cruse Ashford university ENG125 November‚ 14 2014 The major theme in Kate Chopin ’s “The Story of an Hour” is freedom. In the beginning of the story the scene opens up and we are introduced to Mrs. Mallard who has been told that her husband has died in a horrible train wreck‚ Mrs. mallard reacts to the news like any other wife would. Yes‚ she is upset so she excuses herself and rushes off to her bedroom
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As I walked my fingers across the brown flimsy opening of the cardboard box my other hand reached for my tattered old teddy‚ I’d had him ever since I can remember – he was a gift from my aunt Elizabeth. While my hands were holding the bear a tidal wave of memories came rushing back into my mind of the moments that him and I shared‚ alas they are now just memories. I don’t recall why but ive always known my tattered teddy as peter‚ I guess I just thought he looked like a peter. His fur used to be
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Bottled up Inside Word Count: 343 Footsteps ran up the stairs‚ followed by a slamming door. Wendy followed behind trying to calm her daughter down until she was standing face-to-face with the closed door. “Stevie‚ let me in now. I want to help. Please just let me know what’s going on‚ I can’t help unless you talk to me.” Wendy pleaded behind the door “Leave me alone Mum‚ I don’t want to talk about it‚ I just want to be on my own.” Sobbed Stevie in reply “Darling please let me in…. I have
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