I collapse into my sisters arms. The news of my husband's death is too much for me to handle and I weep with a sudden wild abandonment. I had always warned Brently to be careful when he was working and I suppose the railroad disaster was no one's fault at all. Still I feel empty inside, but not in the way in which I had been mourning. With grief still weighing heavily upon me, I wanted to be alone. The upstairs bedroom is where I open the window and begin to think deeply. The warm spring air that enters the room gives me a renewed sense of freedom. The exhaustion that had haunted my body seemed to dissipate with each breath of air. My heart was racing as I came to the realization that I was finally free! Free from the control of my husband
Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately
As she hastily made her way through the long-winded hallway, the realisation of her husband being away at war suddenly hit her. The delight evident on her face swiftly turned into an expression of extreme woe. Heartbroken by the fact that he was missing this major milestone, her eyes were a waterfall, dripped with salty tears down her
I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,
As Oekeke awoke, he shifted in his bed with a pain coming from his chest. It wasn’t a pain that made you clench up and scream, he knew from that moment something was very wrong. He tried to open his at last, from when he awoke his eyes were still weary but it seemed as though he was stuck in time. His heart pumped faster and his mind was propelling from left to right to across the back and back. All he could think of was his family, but with such confusion he could hardly focus on the realty of his situation. It was a sensation he’d never felt ever before, and as he saw his life flash by him he knew the only thing he could do was to wait it out. The old man finally grasped control of his life covered in sweat and disorientation. He asked
I awoke today with the light streaming into my room and hearing the birds chirping in the distance. As I regained my conscience, I smelled the mold and felt damp room conditions all around me that imprisoned me. It reminded me of what would have happened only in a nightmare. It was only yesterday that Corey, Nurse, Hale and I had gone to help the accused women. So many times I felt that I could win the battle, yet just as many times I could feel the rope slipping through my fingers.
My mind was going one thousand miles per hour, those words haunting my head. Hot tears flowed down my face as the words sunk in. I slumped in my seat feeling exhausted and too cold for this warm house. My father’s arms reached for me, trying to comfort me. He wouldn’t understand the mental loss that was turning into physical pain. My chest heaved for air, trying to get this drowning feeling out of these thoughts that envelope me bringing a soft cloak of anxiety. “Not again, please.”
As the Profession of Arms, we have the unique trust of the American public. As
The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of
While reading the poem, “The Discardment” by Alan Paton you were able to see that there was a discnt shift in the tone. This change occurred in line 13 with it expressing a oxymoron of “intolerable joy”. At the beginning of the poem it is demonstrating how the attendant feels and then swiftly shows changes to the perspective on how the writes sees the condition. Up until the shift changed, the poem seemed to be in a way more joyful tone as the attendant receiving the discardment was showing everyone what they received and was dancing around as if it was something to be satisfied with and adoring the moment. Yet, after the change the poem starts to become more gloomy expressing that the attendant has now appointed their commision and
As I went downstairs the tone of the room felt hot, humid, and empty. Hot, because of the burning Atlanta temperatures of ninety-eight degrees or higher. Humid, caused by the broken air conditioning and affecting the density of the atmosphere. Finally empty. The furniture was missing and minimal sounds can bounce off to make echoes. I was departing from a place that I called home. I lived at the address 353 Leisure Court for almost a year; the identity of the street brings back smiles to my face because of its pleasantry. Living here has made me feel secure like a dog to his owner. Moving away from this security brought feelings of uncertainty. My lack of confidence was about the new beginnings my family would experience after the move. But
Hello, old friend. It's been quite a long time since we last spoke, and you're probably wondering why I'm reaching out to you now, but don't worry, I'll get to that very shortly. To be blunt, things between us ended very badly, and while I won't force either us to relive every little detail, it's still such a damn shame how everything went down. But this isn't about that, nor do I want this to be some rant about you. Whatever happened happened, and I've long accepted that. Instead, I'd like to go back in time a bit to when our friendship was at its peak. Music is very much a vital part of my life, so naturally, after meeting in February of 2013, we very quickly found common ground over that. There was one band, however, that really sealed the
The accident, which occurred on board of the seaward platform Piper Alpha in July 1988, took lives of 167 people and cost billions of dollars damage of property. The Piper Alpha is placed in the North Sea, around 193 km northeast of Aberdeen. The field was discovered in January 1973 and the same year construction of platform took place. The depth of it was up to 140 m, and at the time the development and installation of the Piper Alpha platform give tongue to a major step in both the development of the UK offshore resources and technology. The basic design of the topsides was establish on those used in the Gulf of Mexico. The platform production of oil started in December 1976 when the first two wells
A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside
Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s
Touched by fading moonlight, the girl looked pale as a ghost, distressed and sorrowful. Great drops fell from her eyes; the heavy rain clouds in her mind let loose their turbulent nature. She felt the muscle of her chin trembled like a small child, again, she looked toward the window as if the darkness outside could soothe her. However, she tried to keep her sobbing down by biting her lips, afraid the woman would “visit” again. Meanwhile, in the hallway, there was only deadly silence, creating an overwhelming sense of emptiness.