Ap English 2 Year 11 Creative Writing

I ran, my feet bloodied and aching, my ankle unsteady and shrieking in pain. I ignored it, gasping

The pictures looked to be in the 80’s, and she could tell because of the neon colored clothes, and her mother’s wild hairstyle with a big bow in front. She was surprised because her mother looked so hip and happening for her time. As she began to collect the other items that fell, like a comb, neon colored tights, and 2 Sweet Valley High books, she noticed two tickets for the Police, and who were the Police? The tickets were sticking out of an old pink diary, the pages were curled as if they had been wet previously. She opened it, and it

Hulga had been missing for three days when Mrs. Hopewell received a call from the police. Shortly after Hulga had gone missing, Mrs. Hopewell jumped to the conclusion that her daughter was in danger; as a result, she quickly notified the police about her daughter’s disappearance. Over the phone, an officer told Mrs. Hopewell that they had arrested a man whom they believed had something to do with Hulga’s disappearance.

The curiosities that revolve around this event infatuate me. The night of the occurrence I knew something was off, I was petrified. I lied awake that night trying to remove my mind from the agonizing fear that crippled me, giving myself countless alternative reasons for the sounds that rudely awoke me. This man that did this to me was not a stranger, I spoke to him many times throughout the week and he was consistently kind, maybe it was part of his plan, so I wouldn’t suspect it. He was a regular acquaintance that I consistently interacted with, to me he wouldn’t ever hurt a fly, but that night, seconds before my death, I saw alarmingly unfamiliar resentment from the way he looked at me. I knew the noises weren’t the crickets. I hoped that

I glance over at the clock it reads 3 AM, my mind buzzing with stress makes me stay awake.My eyes dart around my bedroom, trying to find something to focus on and go to sleep. My mind runs over the long, boring conversations of the day and what I should have said at what specific time and keeps running on, the only thing breaking me from my stress filled thoughts is a sound unfamiliar to me. It sounded like a creak in the floorboards, which happen 24/7 but it still left me baffled.

I wrap my scarf around my neck and reach down to lace up my boots. Careful not to drop my cross body bag as it swings down, I stand up straight and walk out the door. As I lock the front door behind me, I inhale a deep breath. This is my favorite time of year. The air is brisk, yet the sun is warm on my skin. I begin my walk to work since my car officially died yesterday. This is the third time this month, but I don’t really mind. I love walking when the weather is like this. The sounds of leaves crunching beneath my feet sounds like music.

I don’t know why I’m doing this, but this senseless woman or as she says ‘psychiatrist’ said the only way I’m going to get over these past couple of days is to recap. So here goes I guess

There was a sense of impeding doom that turned my stomach. Although I couldn't bear to look at the mask I held outreach to you, my eyes were tempted to look to you. I side-swiped a glance at you before you took the mask. My eyebrow arched as you looked at me, visibly distraught. My eyes did a double take, and my gaze fell curiously back on you. I sensed a feeling of unease from you, and became immediately confused. “Your master never teach you Torture 101, Mr. Ren?” Although I was mocking you, there was a sense of concern in my voice, as I looked over to the Dug and then back at you. “You look like you've seen a ghos-” Holding out the mask in front of you, I watched you intently as your eyes fixated on the item. My eyes narrowed at that reaction, and suddenly, it made sense to me. Perhaps you had seen a ghost. Fully educated in the many various connections within the Force, I wondered if in this moment you had seen anything. If in this moment, his darkness had fallen on you. I pondered the horrors you had witnessed... and if any one of those horrors was my own. I wondered if it was pain you experienced, and even... if that pain was my own.

It’s December 2014 and it’s Christmas time in Newcastle. As usual the grey sky lays like a cozy blanket over the city. Somewhere around the Christmas madness a boy is walking around. Among the smell of cinnamon and food from the Christmas market, the sounds from people, cars and buses. Little noises are heard from pigeons fighting over a piece of dirty bread. As the boy navigates trough the crowds of people he is completely unaware of something life changing that is about to happen. This wonderful boy has sandy blonde curly hair that is partially covered by a grey woolly hat, he’s wearing a black cozy warm jacket with grey sweatpants and worn out vans. Wrapped under his shirt the wires from his headphones are just hanging loose on his chest

"She might me. According to what I've found, she has a husband, two children here in town and works at Scheele Law firm. I have officers sitting on her house and the law firm now."

Steve: “Its been 2 weeks since we had sports so I’m here to talk to you about it”

“You are welcome Mr. Frenchi but why was I called here? Why is my mother here?” I asked in a tense voice.

An accident occurred while working on the new railroad. Among the list of the confirmed dead, lay Mr. Mallard’s name, delivering the news to Mrs. Mallard would not be an easy task. Suffering from heart trouble, Mrs. Mallard had to be told the news gently and with great care. Hinting around the subject, Josephine and her husband, Richard, told her the upsetting news. Immediately, Mrs. Mallard wept floods of tears.

On a beautiful, Sunday morning Mikey, Laurel, and I go to eat at our usual hangout spot, “Gloria’s Pizza”. It’s been a month since our skit and my leg has healed nicely since then, but it still sorta hurts if I move it to much. Tiffany doesn’t talk to me anymore except for the occasional glance in the hallway. But ever since Laurel smiled her beautiful smile that day at the hospital, I’ve had a huge crush on her and today I can’t stop staring at her. See, every Spring our middle school holds a school dance and I’ve been trying to gather the courage to ask Laurel if she would go with me. So far I’ve got no hope. While we sip on Pepsi and crunch on pizza I can’t help but notice how Laurel’s bronze hair cascades down her shoulders in long waves

Looking at Marlene sitting at the defendant's table with tears pouring down her face, Phyllis asked, “Why won’t you let me tell you the rest?”