I am Felix and I am 20 years old I have just abandon my farm and I have 8 gold nuggets and I need money to survive.The winds in the valley where strong and I got dirt‚sand and I am bleeding from my leg a rock came tumbling from the hill and hit me in the knee I am stranded though my map got burned because of a fire that started last night from lighting...you know my dad died of being stranded when he was in war on the way to the battlefield his horse got out of control and started to run to the middle
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Sunlight filters through the windows until the room is painted in hues of amber. The brilliance of the rays overwhelms the shadows formed by twilight‚ driving away the monsters that thrive in its inky depths. The aurora tumbles like fresh snow upon a sheet of unyielding ice‚ doing little to penetrate the December chill that descended overnight. The wintery atmosphere is far away as I open my eyes‚ encased in a cocoon of commodious blankets. For a brief moment in time‚ I am alone. The troubles of
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I’m three miles in on a four-mile morning training run along the sandy Southern Californian coastline. I can’t breathe‚ and all I see is the ground an inch in front of my face. My Drill Sergeant’s booming voice jolts me back into my senses. I push myself up as I spit out the mouthful of wet sand between my teeth‚ and immediately my legs begin propelling me forward. My running buddy‚ De Guzman‚ already got 10 or so seconds on me so I lean forward‚ wipe my face‚ and keep advancing. For another what
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I have to say Aids is the worst and horrific killers I have witnessed in life. Ron came to stay with me in his last year of life. I watched him suffer‚ cry and fear death‚ regretful and unknowingly spread this deadly disease to several married men. Staying up until two and three even four in the morning‚ while he told me of his experiences in life and as a child and growing up and what happen to Keith. The molestation‚ how and where it took place and who did it. The reason he disappeared for ten
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I remember being a very sassy‚ rebellious‚ careless‚ and pot-headed fifteen year old girl‚ who had the external facade that “I do not care about other people’s opinions of me‚ if they don’t like me they can go fuck themselves.” However‚ internally I wanted to cry when people did not like me and ask why are people so judgmental? As if I would get the answer to this question‚ but at that time‚ I had given up on living up to people’s expectations such as my parents‚ teachers‚ and friends because people
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Madly in love with a nickel in my hand‚ it reflected light like a shining star before 6 o’clock in the morning. To me‚ the nickel represented the joy of hope. As I began to walk home‚ beside the slimy lake‚ there was a log with six or seven toads. They were the largest toads I had ever seen. I came to take a closer look. I noticed the spotted white and blue pattern on their backs‚ which probably meant that they are venomous. And although I always carry a switchblade with me‚ like a swarm of swifty
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In my English 102 class‚ my professor inquired us to write a story concerning Halloween. When being asked this question‚ a story popped into my head about the time Halloween was ruined for me. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday when I think back to my childhood. Halloween makes me think of a lot of great memories‚ hayrides‚ trick-or-treating‚ and dressing up. As a child‚ I loved the feeling of being able to dress up and get candy‚ but that has been distorted. As a child‚ I have always
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Creativity continues to be a difficult word for me to define succinctly. Yet throughout my journey of self-reflection and self-realization‚ incited by Dr. Johnson’s course‚ Leadership & Innovation‚ I notice that I am doggedly pursuing mastery of the creative energy within me. In this pursuit‚ I have learned that truly embracing and knowing and utilizing my own creativity requires a fearlessness‚ free of self-conscious worry and self-judgment. There’s a quote---whose source has been debated (Henry
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“To those who fought and won and those who lost‚ To those who are a still fighting and our valiant allies” “I...uh have a condition called trichotillomania” I had no idea what trichotillomania was but it sounded pretty fucking serious. Devon‚ Sorry‚ I really am. I know this is hard and you will be disappointed in me but please know there is nothing that could’ve been done to save me. I was far too broken to be fixed. I fought for a long time‚ I fought for 34 years‚ beautiful years
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The bright blue background and High Mountain tops over 10 feet taller than me standing at 5’8’’. The slightly chilly breeze that lightly brushes my skin leaving small goose bumps throughout the surface of my whole body. The sound of the waterfall and view of the lake so translucent I can see the yellow fish all the way to the bottom. The trees singing in the background mimicking the echo of the water. The dirt soft and warm in-between my fingers from the pulsating raises of the sun. The rays drift
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