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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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The Nice People‚ by Henry Cuyler Bunner‚ is republished from his volume‚ Short Sixes‚ by permission of its publishers‚ Charles Scribner’s Sons. The Buller-Podington Compact‚ by Frank Richard Stockton‚ is from his volume‚ Afield and Afloat‚ and is republished by permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons. _Colonel Starbottle for the Plaintiff_‚ by Bret Harte‚ is from the collection of his stories entitled Openings in the Old Trail‚ and is republished by permission of the Houghton Mifflin
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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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The sun was slowly setting from its rightful place in the sky‚ soon bringing the night sky over the metropolitan city of Novastoke. The city was very lively on a daily basis always leaving people with something to do and never allowing boredom to exist. Isaac walked with his hands in his pockets as he looked around looking at each shop. He wore a sleeveless white t-shirt which was filled with holes‚ khaki pants‚ which had dirt all over it and worn out black sneakers. He was a dark skinned male‚ 5’9
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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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and you beat my dog in a handsome contest. Ralphie always with the casual look. Madi wow what can I say pulling out all the stops tonight.” I grabbed Adam’s arm and walked out to the limo. We drove for maybe an hour through dense traffic and heavy rain. “Oh no this is going to like ruin my hair‚” Steph complained. “Steph don’t worry it’s going to be fine‚” Ralphie assured
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On cocktail night! The sheer embarrassment of it all!" "Hush Samantha. The server is back." Jocelyn muttered‚ turning to smile shyly at the young man as he strutted towards them with a tray in hand. "I’ve got here‚ one black velvet‚" he started‚ setting the first drink down in front of Samantha‚ who made a scene of accepting it straight from his hand and brushing her crypt-keeper fingers across his gingerly‚ "uh‚ a virgin bloody mary- and an orange juice. Are we all set for now?" "Virgin bloody
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English 010 The Bicycle Page 32 SightLines 10 1. In what point of view is the story told? First person narrative. Why is it effective? The point of view is effective because the reader is able to follow Hannah’s thought patterns and temptations as she grows up. We feel closer to the protagonist because we come to know her thoughts quite intimately. 2. What are the names of the composers that Hannah studies? Chopin‚ Bach‚ Mozart‚ Beethoven
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When Rosie was younger she used to play in puddles. “Jump‚ Brock!” Now‚ she sat in a puddle of sand‚ surrounded by the water that crafted a false ground. “That’s dirty water‚ Rosie.” She was trapped there‚ on some sort of island‚ waiting for Union or Veridee to save her. “Oh.” She needed an escape‚ a way to truly get away‚ yet none presented themselves. It was just her. Alone and waiting for night to come and show tell her who died so she’d know who was left. I’m left. Me‚ me...and five others‚ right
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