The horn has already sounded and I’m still running. I can feel my blood pulsing in my ears. The sounds of useless advice feels the air. I continue to run. I come across a cave and ran into it. I gasp in shock and as I walk into a lab filled with mindless people editing videos. A film crew rushes at me and says, “If you were able to be in Divergent, which character would you be?” I shake my head in confusion. I attempt to back up slowly, but they grab me and place me in front of a computer and yell, “Edit!” The slam the headphones on my head and everything becomes a blur.
As you walk down the ally it rains, it is night you should not be out here everyone knows that except you. You are just visiting from acrost the bay. Tonight while walking back to your car, you relise that your car was stolen. All that's left is your keys in your right pocket next to your phone and a peice of gum. Then just as you think that it just can't get worse, a mugger comes up from behind you. He puts his gun to your stomach and says " We both want something the other person can provide, I want money and you don't want to get filled with led, so..." after that all you hear is a scream. You look up and all you see is somthing unhuman this creature had long pointed ears, it had wings that were 6 ft across, and you can already see the
Thank you for taking an interest in the role! I really appreciate it. — So I have some background for the Emilia role, but it's open to creative freedom. She, Brandon (me) and the Kit all grew up on the bad side of town (I haven't picked a location yet, as I wanted everyone's input once I got the group together) She and Brandon are very close, almost like siblings, and he's very protective of her; they have a relationship like Dom and Mia from Fast and the Furious.
I am fixing my hair, and humming along to a song I heard on the radio, when I hear the concert start. I heard the announcements begin and the lights go dim. There was people all around me. People tripped over cords or called out demands. Some had microscopic mics on their faces, some had been putting on makeup on.
I choke on laughter at her suggestion. How in hell could she possibly think that I would agree and go with her and Diego the Brazilian bull-dozer that ripped our family apart to live with in fucking Argentina?
Markus Zusak’s, The Messenger features the protagonist Ed Kennedy, and how he completed each mission of aces; diamonds, clubs, spades and hearts. The suit of spades was symbolic to Ed’s overall mission as Ed had to dig through truths about himself. Before the suit of spades Ed’s thought of himself was that he was worth nothing, evident through the narration of Ed’s monologue. The suit of spades saw Ed wanting more for his life, evident through the characterisation of Ed, the changes in his monologue.
If you're having relationship problems, don't ask me because I'm going to give it to your straight and raw. I've seen it time and time again where people are just disgusted with their partner and they come to me for advice but leave madder than they came. (haha)
I awoke to beams of a dozen spotlights, my vision gradually adjusted to the brilliant white light which illuminated everything around me. The realization that I had fallen asleep during rehearsal caused my eyes to widen in utter shock and confusion.
The air reeked of alcohol, the intoxicated breaths of young people colliding together over drunken slurs to create one distinct scent. She kept her head low as she made her way through the maze made by the seemingly endless crowd. Full of regrets, she was doing all she could to get out of there, the distraction turning out to be nothing more than a few drinks with people who didn't even know when her birthday was. The song finished abruptly, followed by simultaneous cheering. She kept moving, weaving in and out of people with fierce determination until she walked right into him. She murmured a quick apology and went to continue when the familiarity of the figure in front of her hit. She hesitantly looked up, heart dropping into her stomach at the mere sight of him.
THE ORNATE SCRIPT ON THE BOARD TWISTED in the candlelight, making the letters and numbers dance in my head. They were jumbled and indistinct, like alphabet soup. When Claire pushed the heart-shaped piece into my hand, I startled. I wasn’t normally so twitchy, and hoped Rachel wouldn’t notice. The Ouija board was her favorite present that night, and Claire gave it to her. I got her a bracelet. She wasn’t wearing it. Kneeling on the carpet, I passed the piece to Rachel. Claire shook her head, oozing disdain. Rachel put down the piece. “It’s just a game, Bell.” She smiled, her teeth looking even whiter in the dim light. Rachel and I had been best friends since preschool, and where she was dark and wild, I was pale and cautious. But less so when
“Bien, pero había mucho trabajo, algunos de los cuartos estaban muy sucios.” Mami responded beginning to complain about her day. After they talked about their day, Luis began to ask the question he asks every day: “Can you give me money, I need it for gas?” With a dry, neutral tone he takes a sip of his ice cold Budweiser, with a blank, careless face, he begins to question my mother if she has any money for him. My mother with her now abrasive tone she tells him that she’s tired of giving him money every single day. “You used all the money I gave you?” Mami inquired, even when she knew the answer. “Well, you didn't give me enough!” He responded beginning to raise his voice. As little as twenty dollars a day and as much as a hundred a night intimidated she gives it to him. Scared thinking, “If I don’t, what’s going to happen to me, or even worse, what’s going to happen to my children?”
“Concentrate, Aiden!” He clapped his hands. “Please you really need to focus. This is important. Children have to be careful when they venture into the forest. There’s a pack of wild, voracious wolves with gaping mouths reeling with fangs and forked tongues each as thick as my wrist. They roam the woods, ten feet or more, and then hung in the trees, breathing raggedly tasting your scent, considering how best to devour you. As a matter of fact only, the other day several of them snatched a baby elf out of its sleeping mother’s arms and thrashed the poor little dear to pieces.
My drama paragraph: Your mother's "trying to help" days are coming to an end, and the time is coming to let it go. This is a final attempt to reach you saying everything conceivable down to the last atom of my energy. Being strong-minded (in your head) hasn't allowed your heart and spirit to listen and hear the pleas from your children, Grandpa, sister, and parents!!! If this last "try to help" as your "fairy godmother" doesn't work, your parents' twilight years will be peaceful, but with deep sorrow.