Distortion. If I could put that moment into one word that would be it. Everything in my mind was racing‚ as if my thoughts were on a high speed merry go round that was no longer full of merriment‚ but filled with a feeling of disaster. Drowning in a vast sea of uncertainty‚ the light shining from above was slowly vanishing from sight. I no longer had hope. I remember just wanting to sleep. To drift away and have all my pain and worries leave my body. I never wanted to wake up and feel the agony
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It took Isaiah too long to call 911. It took the operator too long to pick up. The conversation they had took too long. Everything was so drawn out. Seconds were a lifetime. When the bright red and blue lights finally arrived‚ Thomas‚ Alexia and Lane were all unconscious already. It didn’t matter how hard Isaiah shook them. They refused to wake up. The ambulance felt cold and sterile. Isaiah had never been in one before. It didn’t seem like it was going faster than any of the other cars on the road
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That summer afternoon‚ as I remember it‚ was doubtlessly a commemorable one. Breezy‚ yet humid. Bright yet shadowed by the monsters that the afternoon sun cast upon all things animate and inanimate. Even though my generation belongs to one of technology‚ I will always be gratified to be able to claim that my youth was still filled with sweaty foreheads and rusty old bikes. I was only twelve when my great adventure took place. Keelan and Matthew Daniel‚ known to many as the definition of rednecks
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For the sake of anonymity I’ll keep some names private‚ and call myself Beowulf. My story happened around two years ago‚ I was 26 years old when my family and I had noticed that my grandmother was starting to forget our names‚ couldn’t recall certain events‚ and at times seemed in a daze and lost from her state of mind‚ completely forgetting where she was in that moment. This was followed by her stumbling around the house and falling a few times. One time it got to the point where she fell down
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what got a job done‚ that’s what can save your life in war. In war‚ you’re always on the job‚ you’re always watching‚ feeling and smelling. At war we were taught to such out horror we call it survival mode. Your mind and body go numb. I don’t recoil from the horror; instead‚ you make jokes about it . Now‚ being back home‚ I thought it would be different but I’m still in survival mode. I block my memories by keeping a busy life. I’ll work 10- to 12-hour days. I do this because it helps me forget‚ it
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In late September after Rico‚ a low level crack dealer in North Las Vegas‚ was picked up on charges‚ he was asked why he was now dealing on the street. He said someone was renovating the old homeless shelter and the tweekers who normally ruled the place were all gone. * * * The sheriff looked at the picture attached to the missing person’s report. Carmel was a beauty queen. Her homecoming picture showed the blonde was tall and shapely‚ with a youthful innocence despite the fact that the man next
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asks her about her husband. She started to break apart as she says “The boy – the boy died; [She sinks back down] I’m afraid I‘m - going to be sick! [Her head falls on her arms]‚” (p. 31). This represents that her husband’s death has resulted her to go into a depression. She is unstable whenever she is reminded of her husband. She had some memories with her husband that she cannot forget causing her to be really sad. It is later revealed in the play that her husband was with another man. He killed
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a natural delivery. I had to go back to work seventeen days after Micah was born. Just before 4:00 a.m.‚ the monitor‚ which showed the baby’s heartbeat‚ became dead silent. The nurse moved a few things and then got the doctor. The doctor quickly came in and
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I began to cough severely‚ to which i had been coughing for several days. To me‚ the cough meant nothing‚ but Montresor objected. "Come‚ we will go back; your health is precious.” Enough” I silenced him. “It was merely a cough‚ nothing more‚ I shall not die of a cough” He presented me with wine to which I was most gracious and consumed the wine in one gulp. We pressed on. Into the catacombs we
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wanted to keep it to herself. Hug it to her chest and never let go of this newfound happiness. If that made her selfish or crazy‚ then so be it. This belonged to her now. “They’re criminals!” Mercy nearly shouts. “They’re agents of Overwatch!” Rae reasons. “They don’t belong here.” “Everyone can find a place to belong in Overwatch! You’re the one who told me that.” That gives Mercy pause. She sighs. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She admits. The word “again” hangs between them
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