50's Short Story

South Bronx in 1959 was rough. The roughest part of New York and to us probably the worst place to live in the world. Not only were we girls in the 50s which was unideal to us because I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend on spending all my days inside as a housewife. People underestimate us because we’re girls and it’s frustrating because I know I can do better. My mama always taught me better but never took her own advice saying, it’s too late for me, She cooks and cleans and takes cares for us. She does her needlework and not much else. My pop was a hardworking man. He worked down at the Motor Vehicle Assembly Plant. He brought home as much money as he could into our little apartment. Although I loved him for everything he did for us

The event thta im writing about took place in the late 1960’s into the early 1970’s.Alot of things were going on in america in these years like how the 60’s were dominated by the vietnam war and the civil rights protests. The 60’s also saw the assasination of president John F Kennedy and Martin LUther king. But ended ona good note when the first man landed on the moon. The 1960’s is way different from today I guess you can say because back in the 1960’s not everyone had the same rights. Like back then the racist opion was very prevelent but today there is hardly any signs of racism exept a few and is full of diversity. Another different thing is back in the 60’s technology was still new like tv’s and computers not much people had them and now a days almost every American family has one.

627 words. It took 627 words to shatter me and my walls, but in turn, they opened me up to a safer

Booker arrived at the chapel early Monday morning, keen to get his debriefing with Tom over with as quickly as possible. He was professional enough to know he needed to put his disappointment to one side and concentrate on their assignment, but the sting of Tom’s rejection still lingered. He thought they’d made a connection, and he’d looked forward to building a solid friendship with the shy officer. But despite a promising start, he realized he now had no choice but to accept what Penhall had told him. Tom was weird, and his mercurial temperament made it impossible to break down the barriers that kept him at arm’s length. Whether Will was responsible for his brother’s character traits or not was still open for debate, but as far as Booker

‘’Woohoo!’’ Exclaimed Ralph, coming out of Cisco’s breach and back at the lab, as the engineer released his grip on him.

Phenix stood in front of the closed door, his heart pounding and his fist ready to do the same to the heavy, whitewashed, wood panel. Damn the Archaeans to hell! Why wouldn’t they let him wrap up this ludicrous contract in the way he usually did, a simple tag-and-bag transaction. Boom! Pay up.

He could sense the second he found it, that spot that would tip her over the edge, and Brett watched Elena's expression, entranced. His fingers worked relentlessly inside her as he felt her climax building and when she shivered and gasped, then came for him, he felt a sense of satisfaction, but also another, indefinable, emotion. More than simple lust. Whatever it was, as she writhed in pleasure, it led to him kissing Elena again hungrily, tongue pushing deep into her mouth, sucking licking and nibbling hers with their lips mashed together, and hot breathy pants mingling. "Good girl."

Jon was moving his room upstairs. Sure, it would be a smaller room, but still. He couldn’t deal with the two alphas in this house. Mainly when they were in rut, the grinding and growling from the two downstairs was distracting when he was trying to practice his violin, and not feeling weird and rutting against his own pillows, confused as he acted like he was in his heat with no other signs of being in heat. (-- removed HTML --)

Sick fate, twisted punishment for something they must have done in order to wind up somewhere so terrible as this cement prison. Humans were cruel… Poking and prodding at open wounds and making new ones were old existed. It felt like years in this personal hell. Most of the time the young creature stayed tucked in the very corner as far as he could get from the outside for it was the inside for them. Fear dripped from his body in waves nearly as thick as syrup. He was scared and he had every right to be. Watching them murder so many… The images have haunted him since the night it had happened. Blood… Gunshots… Thoughts eased into his mind like a bad dream, making everything a dark place he couldn’t hide from. Mother… Father… People

Lincoln found a convenient wall to lean against for a few moments. He had to plan his next move. This was a typical process for a trained agent. He focussed on the main objectives he was sent there for in the first place. Find where this group is operating from. Find who runs it and where they were getting their weapon supplies from. Also how they were being funded. Once done, the AST and the other agencies can step in and eliminate them all. If his spy drone works and the local intel is correct, the first two objectives are almost met. So Lincoln’s current objective was to make sure his drone was working. Once that was confirmed, then get to the Government Headquarters where he first was met and contact the AST. The main problem with that

Ed leaned in to peer at hood of the deep blue Mercedes Benz. He wore a well-loved overcoat and khakis that had at one point been a brighter color but had long ago turned dark. Touching the finely waxed hood, he gazed at his reflection, warped and bent. He was not a tall nor a short man, and he was lean and weathered. Though his hair was naturally rather tidy, it had been awhile since he had buzzed it, the waves of hair tumbling around his face. Two bright eyes peered out from the mass of strands, watching the world go by.

Among other public buildings in a certain town this building was the one at the end of the gravel road and through the dark creepy forest where little dare to go down , which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning the screams you can hear from a half a mile away, or the blood stains all over the walls the shattered windows that make a faint whistle when the wind blows , and to which I will assign no fictitious name and the clown they call Pennywise this creature that rarely comes out of the shadows, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse ; and in this workhouse was born a devil child and the one who is in charge; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat,

Freeing myself from his embrace, I asked, "What if I say I don’t want to work for you?" He laughed and muttered, "Then you don’t. I remember how often you asked me to release you from your contract. I thought I should honor your wishes. C’mon. Let eat."

So Miranda's dad called, he finally got through to them. Apparently he's been trying to call for the past two weeks, but it never worked. Probably because of the landlines and the government is probably blowing up each others phones. Or because the satelilites are screwed up. Anyways I was wondering what happened to their dad and why they weren't trying to call him constantly, but apparently they have been trying, but the call just wasn't getting through.

After four hours of complicated algebraic equations, and unquantifiable amount of differential equations, the clock struck midnight. It was late at night and I was winding down from a long day of school work. My body sagged with fatigue, arms unable to rise above my waist, and my head drooped in eagerness to meet my bed. Of course I was eager in turn to meet my head’s throbbing expectations, leaping into bed to a night long and full of eventful dreams. Then I heard those fatal words, courtesy of my darling mother ,” Did you have good day? Did you get everything done that you needed to?”