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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Prolugue I’m Charlette‚ but most people call me Charle. This is my story. The story about a girl‚ just a girl. No magically fairies or wizards‚ no queens or kings and nothing different from the world you live in now‚ yet some people might find this fassinating for reasons unknown. I’m a normal girl‚ well as normal as a 14 year old girl gets. My brown eyes and brown hair blend with a crowd and my average height and weight don’t stand out. I don’t really work to hard with my grades‚ so they are
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where I was. When she finally stop talking to catch her breath I told her I was coming home. I went down the slide and walked towards my car. As I drove home I passed by the same bridge and remembered about being in conflict with my emotion doing that short time. But just like before I forgot all about it once I passed under it. When I finally walked inside the house which was greeted by yelling from my mother‚ I had an
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retrieved her phone from the kitchen table — she then sauntered over to the sofa and sat down. For a long moment‚ she scrolled through her phone and then landed on Kitty. Lorelai had not spoken to her sister in awhile and so she quickly pushed the text button and typed in a message. /what are you up too?/ She pressed send and then set her phone down on the
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life without drugs. Vocabulary: 1. Persecution: (n.) Punishment or harassment. 2. Recreational: (adj.) (of a drug) taken for pleasure instead of medical use. 3. Stereotypical: (adj.) an idea growing stale through fixed usage. Literary Analysis: 1. The use of Contrast in paragraph 2‚ “Adults say the average teenager can’t write complete sentences and has trouble spelling big words …. I’ve found time to write this …” shows the reader the wrong description of a teenager‚ and what they
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Nevertheless‚ as we kept talking I could only listen in fascination‚ our lives seemed so similar to each others. Our conversations were long‚ and laughter filled. We talked about our family and personal lives. We both became pretty close over the short amount of time that we had been talking. When it came to a more in depth conversation about of family‚ we both fell silent. “I used to have a father and mother‚ but they aren’t in the picture now” she explained as her eyes slowly teared up. After
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“That’s that.” Kyle pushed aside a petri dish‚ and shut off the light on the microscope. “What are you doing tonight? You think we could work on the lab report together?” John asked Kyle. Kyle smiled. “Actually‚ I’m going out with Mom. We’re going to see Goblins.” When John rolled his eyes and continued shoving his books in his backpack and did not say anything‚ Kyle continued mischievously‚ “You wanna come?” John sighed. “‘Whatever is pure‚ whatever is lovely‚ whatever—’” “O.K.‚ O.K. I get it;
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Here’s a story of woe within the royal family of our beloved Thebes. Our story begins when a battle breaks out or more like a war between brothers‚ who fought to be the king of Thebes. The war consisted of bloodshed in which sent many people to Hades‚ the god of the dead and the king of the underworld. Among the battling men was the god who bends and breaks the battle-line‚ Ares the god of war. But the war ended and Oedipus’ children’s uncle Creon became king. Later on when the sisters‚ Antigone
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Within a few minutes‚ the sound of sirens rushes across the school parking lot. The heat from the pavement causes the emergency vehicles to waver surreally‚ as if they’re an illusion speeding toward me. I stand numbly next to the wreckage as the firefighters hurry forward to free the lady trapped inside her car. The kid who rolled off the side of the bleachers screams as the paramedics lift him onto a stretcher. His leg is twisted at an odd angle. It’s definitely broken. Coach points to me‚ and
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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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