There once was a boy named Edward. Edward was seemingly normal, as any other child, with one exception. He was extremely lucky. Edward gets all of his luck from his amassment of lucky items which he carries with him in a blue satchel. Some items include a rabbit’s foot, an eight ball, a horseshoe, a penny, and much more. He lives in a quiet town called Garyville. Garyville is a place of tranquility and being casual. The town is plentiful with flowers and other things of nature. The bodies of water
An unwelcoming scary gloom weaved its way into the hallway. A standstill conversation stood between both of us. The silence stood over the argument we were having. "Dad, its Hammarskjold," I blurted out, breaking the silence. I clutched my basketball Jersey, holding tight at the number eleven. I was going to win today's game. But as of right now, my dad is dumbfounded and doesn’t know what school we are going to. Through the dimmed window I saw, it was pouring, the rain pummeling the fragile roof
I’m outside my building, hood hiding my face from the camera that are stationed on every corner. There’s a little tiny remote box in my hand that my fingers squeeze tightly. I roughly shove my way through the rush of people walking up and down the filthy streets. They were all trying to survive. To live with some sanity. Tall filthy buildings line the street and Hovers zoom at deadly speeds up and down, not caring if they hit anyone who’s stupid enough to step in their path. It’s chaos, but it’s
The seat beneath me is made of some broken-down cheap plastic lining that is sapping more and more feeling from my lower body the longer I sit. My watch tells me that two hours have passed since I first sat down, so it’s not much longer now – just another hour to go. I want to get up and walk up and down the aisles, both out of boredom and a need to regain circulation in my legs. But the seatbelt sign is on, flashing a bright, blinding orange. “We’re experiencing some major turbulence,” they had
Chapter one Cell had never seen a girl like that attack someone quick. He asked, “who are you?” The girl said nothing and put her sword up, and still had Cell’s sword. Cell ran quick to see Sky and Jett. Sky was sitting down putting her hand on Jett’s arm that was bleeding a lot. “I think he will live but we need to heal him before it gets infected,” Sky said. Cell nodded but in a sad way. Cell said “Sorry, if i protected you this would---.” Jett punched
Whispered good-nights turned to snores, chirping birds turned into croaking frogs and the warm summer night ascended over camp. The molten summer day was cooling as the sun sank below the horizon, darkening the sky and stringing stars across the landscape. I sat on the stage of the lodge, where a few hours ago I was looking out at the meadow where there were piles of kids and counselors looking for refuge from the sun, dumping water on each other to relieve themselves from the weather. Now there
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed” Ernest Hemingway once said. Writing means a lot of things to many people and is because this form of expression is use in so many different ways we can barely count them, however most of the writers in today’s society use it to free their ideas into paper or a computer so they have more space in their brain to imagine little more. Writing has different creative ways, there is not a specific format to writing, creativity comes
I failed the test the first time, I began to hate writing, and I started to doubt myself. I doubted my ability and the ideas I wrote about. Failing the second time made things worse, so perhaps to protect myself from my doubts, I stopped taking English seriously. Perhaps because of that lack of seriousness, I earned a 2 on the Advanced Placement English Exam, barely passed the twelfth-grade proficiency test, and was placed in developmental writing in college. I wish I knew why I failed that test,
"Yeah!" Mayers chimed in, equally excited. He leaned closer to the man and looked him right in the eye, "Chop them right off." He smirked. "Sucks to be you." He added with a shrug. "We can't kill them," Ron sighed, placing a hand on Mayers back, "We aren't allowed to hurt them unless they threaten us or someone else." Mayers stepped back but still grinned wickedly towards the man. "I never said we are going to kill him," Alice's familiar innocent voice countered, "All we wanted to do was cut his
Stonewood shrugs, his hands in his suit pockets. “We rarely have trials. I believe the last one was nearly five years ago. Most situations don’t require one. I’m surprised you stood up for Brielle and be capable of knocking out a Second Class Demon such as Rile.” “I’m even more surprised everyone believes that demon’s lie,” I reply, coldly. “Yes, well when you’re the only witness besides the attacked and the attacker, and you’re human, it becomes very easy to spin lies people will believe,” he states