9/11: A Short Story Of Star Children

BEEP! BEEP! “Already,” James moaned. “I thought I had the snooze set for thirty minutes.” James thought to himself. Before he could even get out of bed, James's mother swung open the door so hard that he could have sworn she made a dent in the wall. “JAMES! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL AGAIN! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK, AND IT IS ONLY WEDNESDAY!” James quickly sprang up from his bed and began to apologize until he was interrupted as she continued to give him a lecture. She calmed down but then proceed to sass with, “Not only are you late, but your room has also seemed to be hit with a tornado. I want this cleaned up after you come home from school or else I’ll be sure you can’t feel your behind after I am done with you.” James

Claire Alistar shifts in her seat to cross her right ankle primly over her left and readjusts her large, black sunglasses so that they sit farther down on her nose so that she looks even more unimpressed. "Beck got caught during a job in cicily? Really? Cicily?"

Nothing was heard, only the water droplets that drops from the crack ceiling. Making a small puddle on the ground, having mice roaming around the place.

When Rainbow finished her weather patrol duties of clearing the dismal clouds that hung over Ponyville and in other ethereal regions across Equestria, she bolted to The Golden Oak Library; so she could go home and see Twilight, her inamorata. After landing in front of the library, she then took a quick look around to see if Twilight was outside. Not in sight. Satisfied, she tried the latch and found the door unfastened. She entered and closed the door.

Now far enough away from the night club opening, Jessie could hear the distinct sound of a woman screaming. The heart wrenching sound made her stop mid step. Cold terror washed over her as she neared the corner of the alley and peered around it. There were distinct shapes - someone on the ground writhing in pain, one cowering against the wall, and three that approached her. She heard the poor woman crying out for help and saw one of the advancing shadows reach a hand up to strike her across the face. Nausea broiled in the put of her stomach and Jessie took a cautious step in. For a moment she weighed her options - trying to decide what to do. Did she fight or did she fly? Whatever - or rather whoever she thought she saw obviously wasn't real. There was no Superman. But this woman still needed help. Jessie clung to her phone as though it was a bludgeoning weapon and dialed 911. She took a step forward - about to call out to the attackers - when another shadow landed in front of her.

Thunderous roar reverberates in the sky, hole after another fill the world, from within, lay another roar which makes us shudder in fear.

Obtrusively,the thunder bellowed outside and the roaring sound filled the small room like rock music to a broken soul.Amongst the thunder, raindrops could be seen ebbing down the windowsill forming undecipherable miniscule shapes and later sinking down in the wall to gather at the edge.

As kids, we were all warned about the basics. Call 911 for emergencies, tell an adult if someone touches you or even tell the teacher when someone says a bad word. But what happens when something happens to the last person you’d think it would happen to.. Yourself. Who could you actually turn to, and when the time struck, how would the words flow out to confess the crime done to you. Or even worse, would the words come out at all? “Can you tell me what happened exactly?” “It's okay to talk to us, we’re here to help you, not hurt you.” The words kept ringing in my head. But was it okay to talk to them? Speak of the unspeakable with people... people I didn't know, nor trust? Being so young I had no idea what was going on. As my heart was racing,

Nothing I did worked. His skin, so close, so warm against my own, did it distract me? Was that it? I had done my best to free myself from the darkness he had encompassed around me, but my efforts did next to nothing in getting him away. He evaded it all. I was floundering amidst my own failure, but he was still there, still overshadowing me.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?" A desperate eleven year old girl tried to answer the operator's question, but all I could manage were sobs.

We are untitled, unnamed, natural, suspended between was and will be.” The potential to be a Stargirl is a part of us, no it is us. It’s who we truly are. Everything that makes us special is what makes you seem so carefree and whimsical, if you dare to show it. For example, Stargirl. She does not attempt to hide who she truly is, but instead lets her uniqueness shine through. Others, many others, stifle it, they hide behind their smiles, generic clothes and meaningless words. All of us are different, but the only way others can realize this is if you let your true personality shine

The day was dark. I could feel a storm approaching. The gentle sunlight glistening through the clouds, now covered by a heavy mist. Drop. Drop. Drop. The coldness of the water tinged my face. And the earth shook, as a large boom erupted from the sky followed by a light crackle. By now, I was soaked, like that night. I continued walking through the deserted streets when a large flash erupted from the sky. Oh, great lightning, today was getting better and better. A woman and her young child was running towards their car to seek shelter. The walk was a long and dreadful one, I found myself looking at the place I left 15 years ago. The house was still dark and foreboding as ever, the shutters hanging off its hinges and the roof in a state of disrepair.

Of all the early church fathers, only a few would stand up to the story, importance and work of Athanasius. Not only did he take over as Bishop in one of the most prominent cities of ancient Rome, he had a very tumultuous life and spent many years in exile for his defense of doctrine and he steadfast approach to understanding the Trinity, specifically the relationship of Jesus Christ to the father, and remains controversial to this day. This paper will take an overall look at the life of Athanasius, his upbringing, the stage that was set for him in Alexandria, and the controversies and work that surrounded his life, and most of all, showcasing, in their time, some of his most important works that are still used almost 2000 years

In his essay, Edgar Allan Poe describes the ideal poem or short story as having three main characteristics. Poetry and short stories should be written using three fundamental ideas length, method, and unity of effect. Poe uses his own work of poetry “The Raven” as an example of these three fundamental ideas.

Pornography is defined as the representation in books, magazines, photographs, films, and other media of scenes of sexual behaviour that are erotic or lewd and are designed to arouse sexual interest (Legal Dictionary, 2014). In 2002, the adult film industry accumulated an average 3.9 billion dollar profit, and this figure has almost tripled since (Forbes Magazine, 2002). Pornography is misconceived within society as a violent and demoralising form of adult entertainment, and can be perceived as a negative pot-stirrer for relationships. Whether or not it destroys relationships is an opinionated question. Regardless, the porn industry does have a proven negative impact on relationship commitment, of bedroom expectations and body image, and