December 29‚ 2013 was the date that I recall when it happened. It was a chilly winter day in Kagawong. I was visiting my grandparents house about a mile from the town on Manitoulin Island in Canada. Ice hung off the tree branches in glistening icicles. Snow‚ as tall as a mailbox‚ was piled up on the sides of the roads. It was only noon when my grandpa walked into the room. My grandpa is a tall man with broad shoulders‚ grey hair‚ and a black and white beard. He always wears his brown boots with a
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BELONGING STORY(2) Coughing violently‚ I passed the glass pipe along to the young man beside me‚ who took a long drag before handing it on the next in the circle. I could feel the foul-tasting smoke tear down my throat and withstood the urge to vomit. The entire room was overflowing with a fetid haze; it grated against the back of my throat as though it were sandpaper. I fought to maintain my composure and appearance of serenity‚ but if anyone looked close enough they would easily be able to distinguish
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In Control In my sophomore year of high school‚ I remember a particular speech I had to deliver in my English class. It was just like any other‚ honestly. But this one‚ this specific one‚ gave me the greatest trouble. My irrational fear of public speaking consumed me and turned me against myself. I remember the mindset that I had for most of my sophomore year: me vs. them. That was how high school was. It was every man for himself. But never would I have ever thought that I was my own biggest obstacle
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very few could manipulate it to their will. The man in this story is me‚ my name is Rayn and I write this story to chronicle my rise to power. My journey started when I was in my mid twenties and our country was at war with a neighboring kingdom. I was a guard for a small village which was ruled by the empire of Luton grod. One day while out on patrol a strange old man was making his way to our village. This is where our story begins. The
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is these times that we neglect to see how great our lives already are. This is the theme of Scott Westerfeld’s novel‚ Uglies. Like all great writers‚ Scott Westerfeld supports the theme of his novel with symbolism that is hidden in every character and event. Uglies takes place in futuristic Northern California. In this story‚ society is divided into two main groups‚ the “Uglies” and the “Pretties”. These two groups are separated by a river that runs between their cities. The reader first meets
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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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12 may 11 MEMORANDUM FOR THE RECORD SUBJECT: BOOK REVIEW OF THE UGLY AMERICAN First published in 1958‚ The Ugly American became a national bestseller for its explanation of American arrogance‚ incompetence‚ and corruption in Southeast Asia. Based on fact‚ the book’s eye opening stories and sketches drew a devastating picture. Combining “gripping storytelling” with an urgent call to action‚ the book prompted the President at the time President Eisenhower to launch a study of our military aid
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The graveyard was dark and shadowed; tulips lined the cobblestone pathway that led to the mausoleum‚ looming darkly against the feeble moon. I strode through the graveyard‚ glancing nervously around at the shadows that lay thick upon the graves like a shroud. Tulips‚ protruding like withered stakes from the ground‚ lined the pathway‚ and I could smell their sickly-sweet odor as I approached the mausoleum‚ looming above me like a forbidding monument to the feeble moon above. “Rachel!” I cried out
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One cold morning‚ just as the sun had risen above High Street‚ two men‚ both in black‚ dashed hurriedly out of the Merlin Bank. One of the men wore a beard‚ and both were trim and fit looking‚ in their late thirties or early forties. They both carried briefcases‚ from which large denominations of banknotes were poking out; the first man was also carrying a sack with rectangular shaped packets silhouetted against the side; he called out to the one following‚ “Get a move on‚ Gilbert; we will miss our
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"Yo‚ Wonwoo! Going to Dongho’s party tonight?" One of his friends yelled a few metres away from where he sat. The raven-haired male responded with a gesture before continuing to keep the papers he had sprawled on the cafe’s table‚ successfully completing an assignment before the next class. As he stood up‚ he was met with a couple of other people he knew‚ greeting him and asking to have lunch together the following day. "Sure. I think I’ll be free." Wonwoo replied and the three figures that
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