MY FIRST DATE (Narrative) T ‘was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly in the East. Birds chirping‚ sweetly singing on the branches of a trees. Warm smiles of my neighbors‚ together with the refreshing smell of cold breeze joined the atmosphere. Everything was so perfect. BUZZ‚ BUZZ‚ BUZZZZZZ. My alarm clock rang. What?! I’m so late for my class. Blame that stupid dream. Hurriedly‚ I forcefully took a bath on cold waters. Within 15 minutes‚ I was all set. I arrived at school very late
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Becoming Airborne Lub-dub‚ inhale. Lub-dub‚ exhale. My heart was pounding as if I had been running on a treadmill for a straight hour. Sometimes it pounded through my brain‚ other times out my throat. My stomach was clenched and buried somewhere near my ankles. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe because my biggest fear was standing right in front of me. And the stupid thing is‚ my fear stood still. “One ride on the Wild One‚ Monica. Just one ride and you’ll get the funnel cake you
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The summer of 2009‚ I arrived to the United States with my mother and two siblings for the first time. While I was looking forward to new opportunities in a country known for its liberties and opportunities‚ leaving my home and family was devastating. I cried every night because I was 1‚509 miles away from my birthplace. I was now in a foreign land and I could not identify with many people. That was the start of a brand new era. It was difficult adapting to a new country‚ language and culture. I
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feeling that could lead to death. The short story‚ “The Lady or The Tiger?”‚ is about a semi-barbaric King‚ a beautiful princess‚ and the love of a handsome boy. When the King learns of the forbidden love‚ he gives the boy a chance of fate‚ live‚ or be killed by a tiger.
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My experience as a founding member of Baila as well as my current positions as a research assistant‚ and volunteer at the Baltimore Rescue Mission effectively demonstrate my personal competencies of leadership‚ reliability & dependability‚ as well as my service orientation. When I entered Hopkins‚ the demographic was very different from what I was used to. Coming from Miami I was accustomed to a very prominent Hispanic community. However only about 10% of my fellow incoming freshmen where Hispanic
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2 hours later me‚ and my mother walked out the room. Nothing moved‚ it was almost as if we were stuck in a movie‚ I couldn’t believe this was real. I saw my father’s dead body lying lonely‚ and silent in our front hallway. All I could think to myself was this wasn’t real‚ it can’t be happening‚ not to me. The mysterious man wasn’t there‚ just my father‚ just my dead‚ loving father. My mother started to cry‚ tears running down her face like a little river running through a peaceful backyard‚ except
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Here I kneel‚ with my aching and bruised knees on the painful‚ damp sand of the Mozambique beach. My mind is utterly confused and terrified; and my body remains at the complete mercy of my nameless persecutors. My last memory was going to sleep‚ while on a family holiday. My mind begins to speculate which reaction would be ideal for this problematic situation in which I find myself stuck with a thousand overwhelming emotions of confusion‚ anxiety‚ anger‚ encouragement‚ joy and peace. Distress and
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April 22‚ 2013 Narrative Essay My very best day was‚ when I was visiting India for the first time in seven years. I was born and raised in India‚ but ever since living in United States for seven years it was the first time I was visiting India. After living in United States‚ for this long time and visiting India was very exciting. I was planning this trip ever since February 2012. It was a very different experience. It wasn’t anything at all like I was expecting‚ but it was more surprising. I
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However‚ after reading these three different narratives on the lives of slaves‚ my eyes have been opened to a whole new meaning of understanding. Just being able to put faces with the stories makes my heart cringe and makes me feel disgusted for the way these people were forced to live their lives. The three narratives I chose to read were: Linda Brent’s‚ Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl‚ the WPA narrative on Richard Toler‚ and the WPA narrative on Charity Anderson. Linda Brent begins her
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Full Name Teacher Class and Period 25 September 2013 Lost In Hanoi Imagine you are in a foreign jungle with your siblings and only a map. Chances are‚ how you are feeling is what I felt when I went on a vacation with my family and found out that I was lost with my two brothers. It was the first day and we were in Hanoi‚ Vietnam in the summer of 2013. What was supposed to be a normal vacation turned into an unforgettable one. The day started with my mom and dad waking my two brothers and me
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