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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Staphylococcus aureus: From a Spot to the Hospital The hospital is silent this morning‚ as the sun breaks through the blinds and casts off all the silver objects in the room. My hospital bed is uncomfortable‚ and it makes me yearn for my 100-year-old mattress and many unnecessary plush-pillows. The smell of bleach and cleanliness lingers in my nose and almost makes me feel sicker. How did I end up here? Well‚ that is not an adrenaline rushed injury or a freak accident‚ but something that started
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Even though I have ridden the Magical Express bus from Orlando Airport many times‚ I always vibrate with excitement as I crane my neck out the window to get my first glimpse of Space Mountain. The monorail zooms beside our bus‚ pointing the way to the Magic Kingdom. Finally‚ we reach the sign announcing our arrival at the Magic Kingdom. When we walk through the dark tunnel at the front gate‚ it always feels as if I am entering another world. I see Pluto hugging a boy and signing autographs.
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Bright white lights shining above my head‚ while I watch the red velvet curtains cascade to the sides of the stage. I walk up to a sea of unfamiliar faces‚ as I hear the deafening sound of my heartbeat fill my head with anxiety. My body as still as a statue. The first time I ever performed in a play was my last. I got in a role in seventh grade‚ I was playing the Fairy Godmother in “Cinderella”. Since I never had that much acting experience‚ barely even one year of theatre. I also haven’t had much
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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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I never did like driving in the winter. I was almost always running late‚ time just tended to escape me. In the winter‚ everything required a sluggish attentiveness that I didn’t have the tolerance for. Driving had always been a tranquil and lulling thing for me‚ up until I hit solid black ice. I never expected to spin out of control like that and I was so sure that the only way this could end was with my car upside down in the middle of the road. My knuckles were white from gripping the bitter
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I used to love Cape Grim. It was an unspoilt coastal wilderness. My father and I would hike there every weekend in spring‚ when the heat wasn’t yet unbearable and the fresh breeze would caress the light beads of sweat on our foreheads. We’d go down the hidden path on the cliffside to the white sands below. It was a tranquil place down there where the soft sunlight would shine down from the boundless blue sky‚ dyeing the sea hues of orange and magenta. Now I can’t even bear to think of Cape Grim
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September 12‚ 1988‚ I was 13 years old. It was about week into the beginning of the new school year. Every child was very happy going back to school. I tried on my uniform the night before school. I was very excited‚ because it was first day at a new school (Highgate All Age). Most of my friends from primary school were also in attendance. I remembered listening to the radio and heard the meteorologist said‚ “It is coming It is definitely coming‚ Hurricane Gilbert is coming.” That was a day before
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I captured the sight of the sun rising through my blurred safety glass window‚ must be morning. Awakening in the same claustrophobic battle scarred room has been my life for 3 years now. Getting to my feet I peer through the withered cast iron bars of my cell to see the guards carrying out the routine cell checks. This time something was different. I see a guard broadcasting to a fellow officer for assistance a small number of cells down from me. I feel a cold shiver ran down my back. This occurs
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Cancun‚ Mexico: where the ocean is so salty‚ the water burns your eyes‚ the humidity does not allow you to wear denim shorts‚ and the jungle extends far beyond where your eyes can reach to. The Riviera Mayan Jungle stores my memories‚ waiting for me to return. Looking out the airplane window‚ I wondered where the aircraft would land; there was no runway in sight‚ just layers of jungle‚ every shade of green. The airplane began to dip down into the earth and eventually landed on a strip of concrete
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