Body Odour Creative Writing

I walk in and a pungent, musty odor hits me in the face like a truck. It looks like a tornado has made its way through here, for there are clothes strewn everywhere. The thickness of the air from the heat off the sun-beaten backs of the athletes covers the room. The constant groaning of the archaic washing machine rings in my ears. The taste of Clorox sits on my lips, and it’s accompanied with the sweat rolling down my

The class teacher should be referred to straightaway in the instance of a pupil swearing at other pupils or at members of staff; or if pupils have been fighting (physically) with one another.

On October 27, I, along with Jenna Mrofchak and Andy Norton, shadowed multiple teachers at the Chagrin Falls Middle School. During the day, I shadowed Mrs. Mrofchak, a life science teacher, Mrs. Bauer, a world history teacher, Mrs. Dennison, a health teacher, and Mr. Richmond, a english teacher. Throughout Mrs. Mrofchak’s first period class, I was able to interact with the eighth grade students by answering any questions about the high school or my freshmen year. Afterwards, the class began to take notes and continue in a day to day class schedule. As a result, I was able to watch the class's reaction to the different explanations the teacher gave. Additionally, I was able to gain knowledge about how to control a classroom

Apparently, all high schoolers can be consumed with work, studies, and socialization events. We passed through the crowds of students as we made our way to the lunch hall, a good meal would be a pleasant solution to wake up the sluggish soul. My friend was in the middle of his conversation and I was a zombie with my eyes attracted to the lunch line, when they strayed away to movement, folders and sheets of papers compelled to gravity flew out when a girl lost her grip on her binder. My first and only reaction was to leave, I interrupted my friend with a soft groggy mutter that I was going to help her, so without his response, I

It was my first class, of my first day, of my first year at Sartell High School. As a freshman, everything about high school is nerve wracking. Simply just looking at an upper classman would send chills throughout your spine. Basically, school was prison at the time (metaphor). Every freshman would walk into their classes, crossing their fingers, and wishing to see one of their friend’s vibrant faces. I clearly remember that day; I trudged through the halls with some of my very best friends, and we tried to find our first classes. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies swam up my nose (personification); I then realized that I must be close to my first class, foods and nutrition. Standing outside the room, I look in and notice the room was white and vacant (Participial Phrase). My stomach dropped to the floor; I knew nobody in this class. I quickly glanced around the bare room, looking for a familiar face. The only other girl in my grade was absolutely the last person I would want to share this class with. She looked like somebody I would not normally want to associate with, conceited and stuck up. With rapid, quiet feet, I walked into the classroom, and I heard the rustling of papers (Prepositional Phrase). This could only mean one thing, a seating chart. I scurried through the chart and found my spot. Of course, I sat next to her, the cruelest girl in school,

I leap, burning my palms on the concrete road, but the pain is subdued by the smell that pierces my nose. With my gun secured to my side, I enter the interrogation site that seems to reek of a metallic scent: a smell I know too well, the smell of blood.

My name was called eighth and my hands trembled as I walked into the cramped room. The floor and walls were covered in light blue tile and there was a slight scent of filth and dirt, but it was concealed by the overwhelming smell of bleach. Standing in front of me was an average looking petite woman with greying brown hair in a lab coat and two hairy, burly men in light blue doctor’s scrubs, they all looked menacing, which did not help with my concerns and in that moment I knew my fears were justified.

As dawn began to break across the beautiful sky, I heard the powerful iron doors of the main building being closed and locked. Dawn to me is the most beautiful part of the day. Colors streaming across the sky make me forget about the horrors of the world. Under me I heard some sort of loud bombs or grenades being thrown into the lowest hall and exploding there; they seemed to make only smoke, but they may have been incendiaries. Later, the ground floor began to burn a scorching heat. Perhaps benzene or petrol had been poured around. Sadly I was still lying among the bodies of others. The bodies smelled awfully and were terribly wounded. Since they were wounded I got streaks of blood on my face and body.

“You cut you’re beautiful, long hair after your return. Mom thought you were in protesting the war, but I saw you two. I knew the real reason you cut the longest blond braid in the neighborhood.”

This time the room was covered in flames burning, yet unburnt.The room smelt of Eolas’ horrid breath. The rotten stench of eggs filled the courtroom enveloping it and perfusing into every crevasse. This sulfuric fume choked Bernard Lichtträger in his dream. Eventually, Lichtträger awoke in a stark white hospital bed. The air reeked of antiseptic and formaldehyde. Justice Flagorneur and The president stood over Lichtträger. Eolas’ breath still faintly tainted the air.

Today is my first day of Freedom High School and all I hope that is going to be fun, well it is suppose to be, instead stress and anxiety fills the air. What I see on the first day of school are students already stressing about their classes, the endless amount of cliques filling the lunch area and a display case holding our famous cross country team’s medals and trophies. I wonder how I could get a medal, but then I remember being 40 pounds overweight won’t help me. Not only that, I am an elephant who is about 160 pounds and only 5’3”. The classes aren’t bad, but the walking distance in between is horrible. The teachers are nice, but the students are bullies. Everywhere I go, cliques are yelling “Fatty”, “Piggy” or “Obese”. Yeah, I like to be called piggy, isn’t school great? New experiences, zero social skill and a permanent stay. I like to thank my father for his constant job changes, making me move everywhere but this time was the last he says. Before the lunch period ends, I hear thud, thud, thud- a student’s footstep. He taps my shoulder, medium size and a well built guy.

I gag as I catch a strong whiff. I choke back the urge to vomit and my body jerks away from the smell, trying to escape it. I know that smell anywhere. I’ve smelt it dozens of times when roaming the streets of Garbage City. It’s a smell, you’ll never forget. The smell of rotting flesh. The smell isn’t as sickly sweet as a human body would be, but more bitter. I breathe through my mouth and that only makes it worse. I cough, covering my mouth and nose with the sleeve of my shirt.

The aroma of disinfectants fill my nostrils as I take a seat in the center of the room in a cushy yet uncomfortable chairs. Occasional coughs and wheezes break up the silence. Everyone looks sick as a tuberculosis patient, pallid faces and feeble bodies. This room is stale and lifeless, so it’s so hard to just sit and do not a thing. In the corner is a rack full children’s books, One Fish Two Fish, The Little Engine That Could, and many other beloved stories. There is a Culligan water cooler that creates a blub blub sound whenever someone draws water to the other corner. I check the typical round analog clock. I’ve only been waiting five whole minutes but it feels like it has been hours. A few informational posters about disease hang on the

During my high school years, there were several teachers that I encountered. However, there was one teacher whom I shall never forget. In fact, he would be very difficult to forget, even if he were only remembered for his size, for he was an enormous man. His name is Anthony Sweeney of “Sugar Butty” my third form math teacher. To this point, I never knew the exact reason for such name but all students referred to him in such manner. He was six feet five inches tall and towered over us like a giant and he weighed over three hundred pounds. I never discovered his exact age, but, he must have been no more than forty, even though his hair had turned grey relatively early on, and there was a smooth shiny bald patch on the crown of his head. But, it is not just for his size that I remembered him. In fact, one of the things with I remembered distinctively was his sudden change in temper. One moment he would be very jovial and pleasant to speak to in class, and the next he would shout violently at some timid student who was merely looking through the window or he would become very mean and impatient with his students. For these reason, he became my absolute worst teacher.

Personal hygiene is a major part of your everyday life. It includes brushing your teeth, taking a shower, applying deodorant, wearing clean clothes, cooking your food properly, and washing your hands when necessary. There are many different types of hygiene and different ways of doing them. The types of hygiene are food and cooking hygiene, medical hygiene, and personal hygiene, there is even such a thing as excessive hygiene. Excessive hygiene may cause allergic diseases. Some parts of the body like the ear canal, or inside of the vagina are mostly better left alone for the body's own cleaning systems. Also, excessive application of soaps, creams, and ointments can adversely affect certain of the body's natural processes. For example,