Meygan giggles as she spins around in circles on the bright green grass. She gets dizzy and falls down‚ still giggling. She looks around for her daddy. But he’s no where in sight. "Daddy!" She calls out‚ suddenly frightened of the big wide field she’s in. "Daddy!" She cries. No one responds to her pleas. Meygan starts to tear up. Where was her daddy? Why had he left her all alone? She cries and cries. Her tears seeming to start a river below her feet. "Daddy!" She cries out one last
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To Write as a Cook Having a college writing class with the theme of Food for Thought‚ I am exposed to many different ideas of the food subject. I found that writing is like cooking. They both are a long process. However‚ I have gained a lot from the process of cooking‚ as well as writing. To create an essay is just like to create a dish: creativity and patience are always required. To me‚ writing is a difficult task to accomplish‚ for I do not have the sense of imagination and humor that a
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kissing from hearing a fellow tell a story once” (Hemingway 86). Just taking a second and logically thinking about what that means‚ one most likely cannot learn how to kiss through a story‚ but actual practice. So the assumption can be made that Mr. Elliot learned to kiss through practice with another “fellow‚” so other man. Therefore‚ hinting at possible previous homosexual encounters. Even the ending of the story has an ironic meaning as Hemingway writes about Mr. and Mrs. Elliot and the “girl
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letters‚ sounding them aloud. “Jung…han…” he said‚ smiling once he’d finally gotten out the syllables. “I like that name!” It only took five minutes for Junghan to conclude that Chan talked a lot‚ and asked far too many questions. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been interrogated so intently‚ and it was unfortunate that all he could do in response was nod‚ shake his head‚ or write down an answer if the question was particularly tricky. After several poorly draw flowers and stick-figures
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want her to have strength for them and have strength for the place that they had all once loved together. Doudy and Perry walked silently for kilometres‚ out of the city‚ searching for a place that seemed more hospitable. A story uncovered itself in Doudy’s subconscious. A story about a forest that shield people from harm‚ a place that Doudy could only dream
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Stephen King “write or die” Write or die‚ and excerpt from On Writing‚ discusses two key influences on his writing. A guidance counselor at the end of his rope with the young king and a ruthlessly honest newspaper editor. In the passage he explains why and how he started writing‚ his counselor felt he should turn his restless pen into more constructive channels buy filling in the spot as the school sports reporter. He also tells bits and parts of his past when he began to write‚ and how john
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she turned quickly and rushed past her mother into the shop. “I wonder if his parents are part of Charleston Society.” Her mother’s words were typical; it was always about wealth and society with her. Either you were well bred or you were commoners. “Probably not‚” she advised herself “since he is best man at a merchant’s wedding. I do not remember who Jeanette’s fiancé said he was. Do you remember his name‚” her mother asked. “No mother‚ I don’t” Allie said quickly‚ turning to look at a bolt of cloth
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vibrant green eyes ran up to Itasha and wrapped her arms around her‚ “Oh my god Itasha‚ it’s so great to finally meet you! I can’t believe you’re actually here‚ this is like the best thing ever!” Itasha dropped
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hurt her. I am hurt. Melina trusted everyone. I trust no one. Melina wanted to learn English. I am punished for saying no. Melina worked at the local market to support her family. I work for nothing. Melina wanted to become a teacher to help people. I service up to 40 men a day. Melina was in love. I loathe. Melina’s family thought she was dead‚ but the truth is I was Melina. And I am now Maria. Whoever is reading this; I am either dead or have found a way to escape from hell. I don’t know
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cheerful as someone in her city could‚ she started home. Passing a dark alley‚ a hand reached out and grabbed her‚ pulling her in swiftly and causing her to drop her things. The fox held her close and put a knife to her neck. "Well well well‚ looks like I found a pretty little rose." He said‚ looking Mei up and down. He held her waist close to him causing her to shudder in disgust.
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