We all gave out a collective groan as we came out of the portal. As I stood a wave of nausea hit me. I bent over and vomited in a metal bucket that came through with the barn. I could see others doing the same thing off to the side. The barn transported us to the area shown in The Folder. A beautiful blue stream snaked through the lush‚ vibrant green forest. We stood on a small dirt path that sliced through the woods. The trail seemed well traveled and the thousands of feet compacted it. In the trees
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have to take it. Detora was aware of his prowess with a sword‚ all his life he had trained with it‚ The odds of defeating or even disarming ere miniscule. As Dr. Hinzman strided forward swinging‚ Detora had to run. He ran through the entrance in which Dr. Hinzman came out and began to seek a place to hide. He grappled up onto the dining room chandelier and quickly leaped to the balcony. “ Ah there you are” Hinzman said approaching him. The fight was inevitable. Mason pulled out his hidden blade
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Ripaibodon charged and grabbed Blue. She called for help. Out of nowhere an adult Tyrannosaurus rex came running out of the forest. It bit down on the Ripaibodon’s already injured head. The Ripaibodon snarled and twisted around out of the grasp of the short armed T Rex. Twenty nine more
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When reflecting on the day and then writing this story‚ I discovered that although we were together as a family for the entire day‚ at the same time‚ we were separated by an invisible wall created by technology that took us away from being in the moment with each other. This was the exact message my dad was trying to get across in his hour-long lecture. I won’t give the exact play by play of his entire lecture‚ but it started out as him telling me how “bratty” and selfish I had been toward the family
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Routledge. This satirical tragic-comedy is about a middle aged woman called Irene Ruddock who writes letters of criticism and the short period in her life when her letter writing is most malicious and trouble making. She is judgemental and likes to look down on people‚ as if she is better than everyone‚ when really she isn’t. Her mixed up life leads us away from the irony near the end of the play. Bennett came from a lower middle-class family and grew up in Yorkshire. He graduated from Oxford University in
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the drive-thru line moving too slow to no fault of my own. Yet‚ despite all this‚ I was happy at the change of pace. I think it must have been being poor that has made me love philosophy because I can more easily see how all of our lives are so short that it becomes absurd to care about many material things. I suppose that my love for thinking about living and how to act merited me to become a Telluride Association Summer Program finalist among the hundreds that have applied and had made me want
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sounds like. Here i am writing in this diary‚ letting all my emotions and expressions out‚ it was the only thing i ever told my story to. I cut every night‚ my blood gushes out like a tap all over my clothes. I feel so depressed‚ rejected‚ betrayed i just wish my life was over‚ and tonight i will end it‚ im going to sleep and never wake up. Im going to write my story and i wish god will forgive me.. It was a friday night‚ usually on friday nights all family members would have to stay home‚ thats
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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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down our drinks‚ and cheered the news which brought us closer to the long awaited moment to savor the “saumon a la mayonnaise’‚ specialty of Mélanie la cuisinière. In the middle of the agitation‚ I was approached by the Baron de Valfort to escort Dame Irène Chaboix. I was glad to do it. I went over to the Diva right away‚ and offered her my arm‚ which she accepted with the grandiloquence of stage actors. Like most old artists‚ she had kept a coquetry which had made her cover her wizened face with
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at parties‚ including her father that had partaken of too many spirits‚ but never under the influence of a drug. Dehydrated‚ weakened were in need of water hurried to the stream. As the end neared‚ girls noticed the long pole. Four scorched ropes dangled from it the carrier missing‚ disturbed when at the end the warrior’s mate emerged nude covered in blood. The sunken face skin of the warrior dangles about between her
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