BELONGING STORY(2) Coughing violently‚ I passed the glass pipe along to the young man beside me‚ who took a long drag before handing it on the next in the circle. I could feel the foul-tasting smoke tear down my throat and withstood the urge to vomit. The entire room was overflowing with a fetid haze; it grated against the back of my throat as though it were sandpaper. I fought to maintain my composure and appearance of serenity‚ but if anyone looked close enough they would easily be able to distinguish
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In Control In my sophomore year of high school‚ I remember a particular speech I had to deliver in my English class. It was just like any other‚ honestly. But this one‚ this specific one‚ gave me the greatest trouble. My irrational fear of public speaking consumed me and turned me against myself. I remember the mindset that I had for most of my sophomore year: me vs. them. That was how high school was. It was every man for himself. But never would I have ever thought that I was my own biggest obstacle
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Power One theme among five stories included in chapter eleven was the power struggle between characters‚ either within themselves or among other characters. Power is somewhat of an elusive concept in which it can take many forms. The characters within this chapter exhibit a wide spectrum of power including the power achieved through independence and feelings of empowerment‚ the corruption that may coincide in great power‚ or the illusion of power. In the first story‚ titled Sweat‚ the character
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Short Story Scrutiny. Scepticism. Shock. It was all too familiar‚ the look on the faces in the room. An aboriginal female in a doctor’s coat. She glanced around the room as she sat down. The dullness of the grey walls seemed to absorb the lost hopes and dreams of the young men around her. The stale oxygen that lingered in the small room was slowly suffocating under the sterile smell of disinfectant. The only glimmer of light was a small corner of a window where the morning sun shimmered through
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very few could manipulate it to their will. The man in this story is me‚ my name is Rayn and I write this story to chronicle my rise to power. My journey started when I was in my mid twenties and our country was at war with a neighboring kingdom. I was a guard for a small village which was ruled by the empire of Luton grod. One day while out on patrol a strange old man was making his way to our village. This is where our story begins. The
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Ona’s baby because they did not want her to cause any trouble like her father did. They did not want the father to have an offspring whom he could preach and teach his ideas to. They wanted to make him suffer for what he did. This would also be an example to others. The government held the whole family responsible for one member’s actions and affiliations. The government officials are murderers of innocent people and they don’t even care. This realization changes Lina by making her realize how harsh
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"Yo‚ Wonwoo! Going to Dongho’s party tonight?" One of his friends yelled a few metres away from where he sat. The raven-haired male responded with a gesture before continuing to keep the papers he had sprawled on the cafe’s table‚ successfully completing an assignment before the next class. As he stood up‚ he was met with a couple of other people he knew‚ greeting him and asking to have lunch together the following day. "Sure. I think I’ll be free." Wonwoo replied and the three figures that
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Short Story Screaming in pain‚ Rebecca was about to give birth to her first baby. She was forced to have a homebirth as there were no hospitals around for miles. Her shrieks of pain had woken everyone in the neighbourhood‚ many came up to the house to get a glimpse of the situation. One of Rebecca’s friends‚ Rick‚ had rushed into the house in a matter of minutes after he heard the screaming. Rick stayed with Rebecca for several hours that followed to comfort her as best he could. His best attempts
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It was one of the more curious things about Humanity‚ our reluctance to allow others see us cry. It could be said that it was a form of defense‚ of never letting one know your weakness‚ and perhaps there was some truth to that. After all‚ hadn’t Humanity kept the Deadly Races at bay for a time by pretending to be strong? That day‚ however‚ Intrepidus was not able to hide his weakness by refusing to go home a mess. There was a shadow he had failed to realize did not have a place in this cavern any
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desire to possession through a breathing-taking fear that the goal may never be reached‚ but in most cases it’s the goal that diminishes the fear. It diminishes the fear merely into a Dandelion seed that one day will float in the air. Take Angela for example‚ she grew up in a small village in South America with a mouth full of dreams and an ocean filled with overgrown seaweeds that were hungry for the light that her dreams emitted* from her own eyes. Her dream was to become a famous writer‚ but when her
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