nestled in the foothills of the Putney Mountains located forty miles southwest of Charleston‚ West Virginia‚ had its own dark history. Having lived his entire life in the two–story house on the outskirts of town‚ Ernest Cassidy was familiar with the myths‚ legends‚ and lies about his city and was always quick to defend it. The mysteries began years earlier when Dr. Ronald Hackney; a surgeon at General Hospital in Charleston came up missing. One morning‚ he didn’t arrive at the office‚ his nurse called the
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HSC STUDY BUDDY Belonging Creative Writing Perfection?/Perfect Chaos. The steel door slid closed behind Jian with a quiet susurration‚ sealing the room with a series of soft mechanical clicks. The hideous moans of the Misbegotten that perpetually polluted the air faded. He was swallowed by sanctified
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Beowulf: Short Story In the beautiful town of Ventaria‚ which is located near the southern- most point of Ireland‚ a once proud colony of people enjoyed the magnificent surroundings and a simplistic life. Brian the Great‚ beloved ruler of the Ventarians‚ had been killed by the evil Filth-Sammich. This vile creature‚ with a crocodile-like build‚ had a head larger than the immense church in the center of the town. When fully-opened‚ the mouth of the Filth-Sammich could open wide enough to fit
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“I disagree with your interpretation of the main idea.” Kim said to Austin as they sat on the cement stair in Austin’s backyard and discussed about their short story analysis work from English class. It was just after rain‚ the sky was still filled with gray clouds‚ but at least the temperature had cooled down a little bit. Kim secretly felt bad for Austin‚ that now he was stuck with her for this “working buddies” thing in English. Why would someone stupidly arrived class late and became my deskmate
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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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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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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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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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