was so young during that time period‚ I had absolutely no idea that my family was homeless. The word homeless comes with such a bad attachment‚ so for a long time I never spoke about it to anyone. But‚ I think it’s important to share your personal story‚ in hopes that another can relate. About three years of my life were spent either in a car or a shelter or once in a while at a family/friends home. Given that‚ I think it would be best to speak only about the first year. Granted that it was the most
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character‚ and the one whom the reader sympathizes or in some way identifies with. This character is commonly “the good guy”. Antagonist: Usually the opponent of the main character‚ who in some way prevents or obstructs the protagonists goal in the story. This is often “the bad guy”. Types of characters: Flat: Not much is known about the character. Reader doesn’t usually see this characters thoughts or feelings. Character can be summed up in one or two sentences. Stereotype: a type of flat character
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Five Short Stories Alphonse Daudet The Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction‚ Vol. XIII‚ Part 4. Selected by Charles William Eliot Copyright © 2001 Bartleby.com‚ Inc. Bibliographic Record Contents Biographical Note Criticisms and Interpretations I. By Henry James II. By George Pellissier 1. The Siege of Berlin 2. The Last Class—The Story of a Little Alsatian 3. The Child Spy 4. The Game of Billiards 5. The Bad Zouave Biographical Note ALPHONSE DAUDET was born at Nîmes in the
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Five Somebody told me before that when you feel almost nothing at all‚ only plain unhappiness‚ then just die. You always want to find an explanation for feeling so empty‚ but what was that for? Nothing. If you feel that way‚ then that’s depression‚ and I’m telling you‚ that thing kills every part of you. Well‚ at least‚ that’s what it does to me. Dr. Marie once said that she knew everything about my condition and she’s dead wrong; I know myself more than everybody does. After that check-up‚ I
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Zichao Huang Mr. Lambert English028 March 17‚ 2015 The Story of an Hour “The Story of an Hour” is about a woman named Mrs. Mallard who is married to a man named Mr. Mallard. Mrs. Mallard does not have a very good heart‚ and she is sick. Something bad has happened‚ and people do not know how to tell her about it. Josephine is her sister‚ and she tells Mrs. Mallard that Mr. Mallard died in a train accident. Richards is Mr. Mallard’s friend‚ and he is there because he knew about the accident. Richards
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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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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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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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"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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