of telling someone you like something of theirs. She also said something about wanting to do something so that her face was light colored like our someday. I tried to tell her that God made us this way and her that way and he loves here just the way he made her. We eventually left and on the way home we were stopped by the police. They said that they were going to arrest our driver. What they really wanted was for us to pay a bribe. We did have too many people in the van though and our driver did
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Not even the squeal of a tyre edging around the street corner‚ or the cackle of an old man passing by. Feeling the aching in my wrists turn to a sharp pain‚ I peered down at the several plastic bags that I was holding; full of the essential shopping that I had gone out to get last minute for dinner. One of the bags (the one that was hurting my wrists) was clearly overfilled‚ but I couldn’t do anything about that‚ not now‚ in the middle of the street. Letting out a heavy sigh‚ I carried on walking
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jeans are worn down at the knees. He stubs the cigarette in green ceramic ashtray on top of the wooden banister. Taking out a lighter‚ he walks over to his car. Placing one foot on the gray rear bumper‚ he lights a second cigarette. The luminescent street light overhead hardly reaches him. Given the time of night‚ light comes from above leaving his face to look unequivocally gray. Silently‚ he stands for a moment; his eyes tracking each car that passes with minimal interest. The summer before last
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I never did like driving in the winter. I was almost always running late‚ time just tended to escape me. In the winter‚ everything required a sluggish attentiveness that I didn’t have the tolerance for. Driving had always been a tranquil and lulling thing for me‚ up until I hit solid black ice. I never expected to spin out of control like that and I was so sure that the only way this could end was with my car upside down in the middle of the road. My knuckles were white from gripping the bitter
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September 12‚ 1988‚ I was 13 years old. It was about week into the beginning of the new school year. Every child was very happy going back to school. I tried on my uniform the night before school. I was very excited‚ because it was first day at a new school (Highgate All Age). Most of my friends from primary school were also in attendance. I remembered listening to the radio and heard the meteorologist said‚ “It is coming It is definitely coming‚ Hurricane Gilbert is coming.” That was a day before
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I inhaled the night time city smells of street food‚ sweat‚ cigarettes‚ and garbage‚ as I stepped toward the bus. I hadn’t taken two steps before someone shoved me to the side and dashed down the street weaving through people like a true professional. I tottered and nearly fell‚ but I kept my balance. Annoyed‚ I swept my gaze throughout the crowd and saw the rude stranger- a young man‚ maybe in his late teens‚ with thick black hair‚ dressed in a dark gray t-shirt and jeans. For a moment‚ he looked
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What do you think of when you hear the words “Jane Street”? People often associate the street with the intersection Jane and Finch‚ infamous for crime‚ drugs‚ shootings and gang activity. It is the street that people avoid by all means necessary‚ for the fear that something bad might happen to them. But how are people terrified of an area that they’ve never even step foot in? I lived near the intersection of Jane and Sheppard for about two years. Prior to living in this neighbourhood‚ I had only
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The plaid shirt was covering my tank top‚ the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the collar soaked with sweat. The faded red had been stained a dark crimson from the sweat pouring off me. I threw another bale onto the hayrack‚ straw getting caught in my shirt. I grabbed the open front of my shirt and shook free the straw. I rubbed the sleeve of the plaid shirt across my brow‚ to wipe away the sweat. I grabbed the final bale off the last hay rack of the day and threw it over the side‚ towards where
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Shingle Runners The woman smiles from across the room‚ shadows and moonlight contorting her mouth into a cheshire grin‚ sly and bloodthirsty. God‚ she could kill me right now and I’d still love her‚ he thinks‚ What a fool; can’t even trust my own head around a pretty girl. Smooth sax and piano is marred by the skipping of a disk in the room across the hall and laughter and soft amber light spills under the heavy oak door; the telltale signs of yet another couple retiring from the celebration.
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comforts of her own home‚ Alma and went skipping around the dark‚ cavernous city by herself. While skipping under the main bridge‚ Alma comes across a long‚ narrow road called Snow Street. The narrow road had dozens of open shops‚ but they all seemed to be out of order or abandoned years ago. The only modern object on the dead street was a green chalkboard hanging on the wall with dozens of other names on it. Written in clean cursive‚ Alma wrote her name with chalk‚
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