Allen Slate-Personal Narrative

His alcohol breath washed over her face. The girl struggled in the rough ropes that bound her arms, each second becoming more desperate. A large hand cupped the hinges of her jaw and squeezed harshly. The man sneered, silver strands dropping onto his eyelashes.

The footsteps reached his door. There was a barely perceptible pause, then the door creaked open loudly. David shrieked as a dark shadow threw itself at him, passing through him as a gust of poisonous air.

When she left the doctors came. Just before they injected the anesthesia into his arm, Allen saw an image of Leaf again. This time he had something silver in his mouth, It was Allen's ticket into the building.. Soon after, he had a mask on his mouth and nose. When he woke up, he could not see very well or even open his eyes.

Her expansive shoulders lay motionless, Seated with open arms offering its knowledgeability to anyone that walks by. her mind flooded with pure intellect is occupied with Melbourne’s comprehensive history. Before her entry, fixed with boundless glory and pride stands Edmond Barry. Carved with her intricate design to match her exterior, myriad of fiction, mystery and encyclopaedia to acquire ones every need.

Coach Shapiro raises his monogrammed aluminum whistle and it is the most unholy sight I have ever laid my eyes on. I allow myself to exhale. I attempt taking in the air of the room when I inhale. Instead, I am greeted with the sweet ripe smell of ‘determination’. Determination is Coach’s word for sweat, as in Ya ain’t had enough ‘til ya got determination all over your body or Practice ain’t over ‘til ya are able to fill a glass with your determination. My pores are boundless and eager. My anxiety starts to show itself through the determination that leaks off of me like a faucet.

Looking down, Ash placed his head into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes, and began to weep. The cries built up gradually, hitting their crescendo with him sobbing, “I’m so scared,” over and over and over again. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to comfort him or hold him, so he sat across from him and watched.

and pinned me to the wall, his knife at my neck, the scent of his vanilla cologne wafting into my face. “I don’t care how you got in here, but you won’t be leaving, that’s for sure.” He didn’t waste any time on threats-- a good idea, as my watch now buzzed 8:57-- and soon my arms and legs were wrapped impossibly tight in the chains and the chains bound around the white block. He didn’t even say a snappy

While the horse beneath charged on he held his target in sight. All the while he recalled the last man who'd been brave enough to give chase to the dreaded thing.

With his now free hands he grabbed the unconscious persons and tied their bodies together with rope he found making sure to tighten

Make sure actors are in the fame of the camera (using blue tape to keep actors in the fame)

Running his forearm over his face, he staggered to an old oak, sinking down against it. In the space of a day, everything he 'd loved in the world was dead.

He couldn’t remember his name. That seemed important. His head felt heavy and he couldn’t think past the pain in his sides. He felt open wounds, all seeping onto the table he was lying on. The cold metal made him shiver, which caused even more pain.

My grandparents had gone to bed, and I had decided to stay up, watching Nickelodeon and eating junk food, since it was Friday night. Spongebob was just getting to the Krusty Krab when there was a ring at the doorbell. Since I had nothing to gain by my grandparents waking up, I answered it myself.

San Francisco had always been a haunted city; a city of tragic fires, earthquakes, and a feverish lust for gold, spurred on by the constant hum that seemed to make up the very fabric of the land. It was a city of hope and courage, a beacon of civilization and modernity casting it's brilliance into the bay. But

He made his way over towards the prisoner kneeling down beside him. He frowned noticing the boy's wrists were bound along with his ankles. There was a small puddle of what looked like vomit beside the boy. Louis sighed shaking his head and rolled the boy onto his back.