I sat there‚ amongst the now overgrown and old rubble‚ staring out over the horizon. Holding her tiny‚ delicate hand mine. I have yet to tell her about the one she’ll never get to know or see‚ and about the war that erupted like a ferocious spark upon a weak dry shrub. Which I may never be ready to put onto her poor heart. It was a quiet afternoon‚ the village was alive with mirth‚ you could hear birds singing a melodious tune‚ kids playing in the town square‚ you could even hear the blacksmith
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Redbird With the dull look of a drunk‚ Gabriel hugged the tiller singing to himself‚ his square jaw deep in stubble‚ face as gray as a wet street at midnight. On the head a pointed hat‚ on the left foot a dirty bandage; between the two‚ naked. Opening welcoming arms he fell back on the rudder post drunk as a weasel‚ breath heavy with whiskey and onions. Waving a lantern in our faces‚ ‘Francis‚ Pat me favrit boys‚ ‘ave a drink.’ Scrabbling around‚ he shook an empty bottle close to the light‚ berating
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anxiety flutted around in my chest and gripped each breath like a vice. The daunting and steep steps danced in my mind making the simple task of walking up stairs more difficult than the impossible task to run a mile in a minute. Next‚ a boy pushed the door open behind him almost as an afterthought‚ but in my chaotic mind it was the best thing all morning to happen. On the dreadful first day of school‚ chivalry was not dead‚ or at least that’s how I was able to comprehend his actions. I glanced around
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care what other people think and talked about things he knew or what talents he got. Till this day I still admire him for that. On those times I was a total jerk to him which I regret so much because when the years pass more and more he shuts his doors of trust in front of me. He became a very talented piano player and right next to him is the bass player‚ me‚ trying to catch up to him. Erick when I first met him he was a jerk. I literally didn’t to talk to him until I went inside the youth group
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Haley Wiedenman Gender 380 Book Review Millionaire Women Next Door: The Many Successful American Businesswomen 10/28/13 At first‚ it was hard to address the question “why I chose this book.” I chose it simply because we were giving a list of books and I had to pick one of them‚ simple as that. When I looked closer at the reasoning I realized there was more to it than that. The title made me think about everything we have discussed in class. How a
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that he is worried that Trentino will reject his apology and will embarrass him. So out of fear of being humiliated‚ he panics and decides to slap him instead. Trentino is infuriated and declares war. The movie ends when Trentino is trapped in the door frame and surrenders while Firefly and his men throw oranges at him. Mrs. Teasdale sings out the national anthem as the men comically begin to turn and throw oranges at her
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She walks in the room and he hears this sound and turns around. It was a unique sound of keys banging together. His attention was drawn to the lanyard‚ it was bright. Everything about these keys made him think. He thought it was strange‚ nothing has made him think this much about an object before. Thoughts of him running his fingers against the lanyard and among the keys made him shiver. When she walked in sounds of keys hitting together brought it to his attention. They had a distinct sound because
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just like ours‚ the people dead inside. I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. I followed the map and easily found Lilith’s house. As I got closer to the door‚ I saw a sign that said “I can take it all away”. I didn’t know what to make of that but I felt a sudden urgency and I needed to get this over with. I knocked the door‚ and a lady who seemed to be in her early thirties opened it. She had long white hair‚ but barely any wrinkles. She wore a long velvet dress‚ and her neck was covered
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After taking Amabelle’s face in my scarred hands‚ I brushed my lips against hers‚ gave her a reassuring smile as our pupils met‚ and then I raced to find Mimi. The evening dampness cooled the skin on my scarred back‚ as I crisscrossed the stream and Don Carlos’ mill to reach the cement non-vwayagé home of Doña Eva. Hurrying past the spacious yards‚ crowded with fruit trees--laden with mangoes and avocados--to provide cover from the burning heat of the sun and to fill their bellies with the sensuous
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their parents instead of in my yard throwing stones at my flowers. After she decided to go‚ I sat back down and started to think. I thought about how those children some more. It was getting pretty dark so I went back into my house. As I entered the door I heard that little boy Joey
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