Ap English 3 Year 11 Creative Writing

the screeching call again, and I scrambled back, trying to escape, snot and tears mixing on my face, my

“After defeating the Cyclops Polyphemus, my men grew exhausted. They grew thirsty from rowing under the beating hot sun. Sweat dripped down their heads and the ship’s deck grew moist from the mix of the salty, seawater and sweat. We stopped by on a nearby island.

Everybody was gone. Evacuated, they called it. The Pearl of Asia, a city once renowned the world over for its vibrant music and art scenes, along with its French-style architecture –now devoid of living souls. The city centre was only a corpse of its former self: the central market was completely unrecognisable; the surrounding houses now just piles of brick and wood. They said that we did not need cities, that we were corrupted by Western values. They would create a new society, free from the old ways of money and greed. The past five years had been quite abominable, so everybody hoped that this new government would finally bring peace.

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.

Turning off the TV, Andrew grabbed his keys and rushed to the garage, angry for not being more cautious. Driving down the street as fast as he could to get to the cleaners, he said, “I wonder if Margaret has her phone. I will call it,” he said, pushing the buttons, he waited, and said, “Oh, no; it went directly to voice mail. She must have turned it off, but why would she do that?”

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

On weekends, groups of Italian boys piled out of Milan-licensed Range Rovers. They unloaded skis, pulled on Dolomite ski pants and down jackets and trudged up to the slopes. There were a few Australians from the local youth hostel skiing in jeans.

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

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.

Scuttling innocently through the twisting corridors I bore the same expression; head down, shoulders hunched, avoiding any eye contact - my desperate attempts to deter the despot for one day at least. Despite my efforts, there was no escape, as seemingly within the second of having that naively optimistic thought, a cruel, callous voice demanded I surrender my broach. Fear spiked, as it always did, but with it came something else, an alien emotion ... Looking back now, I see that it must have been the cumulative effect of months of torment that brought me to the realisation that at this point I had reached the nadir of my life. Deriding cackles pierced my ears and this time I recognised the emotion, fury. It burned through my veins, along with the memories of the past to form a feeling of overwhelming power. I met the daggers that would usually invoke terror, and calmly, I said “No.”

Logan recalls a time when he knew a boy in his class that was really shy. T

            The smell of an old oak gym floor was the first scent that hit me rushing through the front doors of the gymnasium. That was followed by the smell of hot dogs, popcorn, and pizza that was being cooked in the concessions. Thinking to myself having guilt sit in the back of my mind, knowing that there was a phone call that needed to be made.