A Lost Hope The lights appeared out of the darkness. I heard a soft voice talking to me as my eyes slowly opened and everything was blurred. My eyes adjusted I found I wasn’t at home in my own comfy bed but a horrible hospital trolley. My mom was sitting on a chair beside me her hand in mine and her eyes filled with tears I could tell she had been crying. It had happened again I thought to myself‚ I had collapsed for no reason. My mom explained to me why this was happening and a sharp pain shot
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----------- The Mienshao opened her eyes and gasped loudly. She could instantly feel that she was sitting in a very uncomfortable position in small‚ enclosed space. The ground felt cold and metallic. It was obviously some kind of cage. The Mienshao looked down to her stomach and rubbed it‚ relieved to feel that her unborn baby was unharmed. "Richard‚ long time‚ no see buddy. How’ve you been?" a voice spoke happily. "Dr. Feinburg‚ it sure is great to see you again‚" replied a second voice
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The Clod and the Pebble "Love seeketh not itself to please‚ Nor for itself hath any care‚ But for another gives its ease‚ And builds a heaven in hell’s despair." So sung a little Clod of Clay‚ Trodden with the cattle’s feet‚ But a Pebble of the brook Warbled out these metres meet: "Love seeketh only Self to please‚ To bind another to its delight‚ Joys in another’s loss of ease‚ And builds a hell in heaven’s despite." Corrupted By The Sun I saw her. In a miniscule moment. Her
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Fantasy Story: Once upon a time there was a girl named Belle. She lived in a magical kingdom‚ but was unaware of it‚ until her 13th birthday. She and her friend Sunny are to discover that there were more than flowers in a garden. “Let’s hurry!” yelled Belle “We don’t have much time!” “Ok‚ ok‚ I’m coming!” murmured Sunny groggily. It was 3 in the morning after all! The two girls were heading to the Tulip Meadow. It all had started when they were having a sleepover
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SI can remember that day when I was ten years old. I was going to the primary school with my friends by bus as every day in the morning. On that day‚ I leaved home at six a.m. and got to the bus. After that‚ I saw a strange man was following us in his car. He was about 40 years old with dirty clothes. Before we arrived to school he had shouted‚ "stop stop stop the bus" to the driver and he tried to stop our bus. So he hit the front of the bus by his car. After five minutes the bus stopped totally
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Gary Torry English II July 16‚ 2013 Drill or No Drill? The National Artic Wildlife Refuge (NAWR) is home to many animals‚ such as: moose‚ caribou‚musk oxen‚wolves‚foxes‚ grizzlies‚ polar bears‚ and migratory birds. Leaders in the oil industry‚ however‚ believe that the refuge is the perfect site for the “environmentally sensitive exploration” of oil. Environmentalists are wondering: What will become of
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Chapter 1 Mom’s word stuck me like a lightning bolt. I was so shocked that I forgot to give reaction to what I had just heard. Maybe because a part of me still believed this couldn’t be true. Well‚ was it a joke? I looked back into mom’s eyes. She was still looking at me with pitiful look in her eyes‚ which showed me sympathy. I wanted to ask her if she was joking‚ but then I realised it would be hard to bear the pain if she said no. Instead I wanted for her to say something else or give a reaction
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Once upon a time there was a boy laid in a corner of a dark room‚ he was alone and silent. The only noise was that of footsteps which entered the room. "Macro! Get up you swine" said the man. His voice was very deep and menacing. He wore a redcap with a dark green army suit‚ again he shouted and the boy slowly rose from the floor. “We know that you are involved with a gang of villains called the Mad Catz but where IS your secret layer?!!” screamed the man impatiently “I don’t work with them
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In Aldous Huxley’s Brave new World‚ John the savage is undeniably the most complex character misfortunate enough to be influenced by the dystopian society illustrated in the future. The characteristics that Huxley uses to define John not only add to that complexity‚ but also reveal the inevitable demise of one who has been denatured by the dystopian society- despite moral beliefs‚ knowledge of literature to understand the world‚ and the desperation for self-exploration. In the dystopia of Western
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The Chapel I sat in was lined with wooden pews‚ unadorned as befitted the sombre mood. Inside the atmosphere was oppressive and a faint mustiness hung in the air. I was vaguely aware of the murmurs and rustlings of the other mourners as they took their seats. I dabbed my eyes with the hanker-chief as the deeply moving and melancholy chords of “Amazing Grace” began to filter through the stony walls. Ahead of the pews the mahogany casket was polished to a glossy shine and adorned with pale pink
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