Creative Writing: Broad Street

One day, cutting through the swamp, David comes across the remains of old Indian souls and discovers a skull with jewelry still buried on the bodies. As David kicks at the skull, he hears a voice and looks up to see a black man seated on a stump just looking. The man, wearing a black sash around his body, has a soot-stained face, which makes it appear as if he works in some fiery place. David soon recognizes the stranger as the devil, the black man. Twenty years later we had a family reunion with all my relatives and they started talking about the fire.

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing in their minds showing them what it all meant to them. With every step they took on the sidewalk they remembered a different memory as if they were walking down memory lane. Ponyboy didn’t think it was possible for him to be walking down this street for the last time as a high school student, but he had gone through the years with great grades that earned him many scholarships.

She comments on how different the neighborhoods are and how she doesn’t feel welcome. “There are no streetlights so it’s hard to say who else sees me. I feel as obvious as my vehicle: large and white.” (Stockett 143).

She trekked forward, valiantly, against the aloof, inhospitable environment. Around her, she witnessed as the rudimentary surroundings drove individuals away as if it never wished for accost. Despite this she continued to trudge forward, despondently, waiting for a sign-- anything to warn her if she ought to continue or if she ought to give up. Eventually, she persisted. Ann Petry, in her novel The Street, explores the dynamic relationship between Lutie Johnson and the unfriendly urban setting through the articulate use of dramatic personification and vivid imagery as a metaphor for the uncertainty that ensues when relocating in a new, diverse, and vastly dissimilar environment.

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

“Yes I am dad.” Kevin screaming at the top of his lungs,” Mr.Cromwell needs to go!” While Howie and Kevin argued ,Cromwell was over there eating Kevin’s breakfast, waffles. It was too late, Howie and Kevin turned around ,the waffles were gone.Kevin and Howie went straight over to doggy daycare. Cromwell had stayed 1 hour knowing he wanted to leave.

The driver, Cecilia Blair, of vehicle 1 was traveling north through the intersection of N. State St. and Flint St. when she had a collision with vehicle 2. The driver, Jacqueline Muir, of vehicle 2 was heading west on Flint St. when she was struck by vehicle 1.

What is the personal significance of your given name (first, middle, and last)? My given name is Kimberly Müller. The personal significance of my given name is very important to me because I want my name to always have something great behind it, that’s one of my goals. My surname came from Germany, I sometimes wonder how a German surname came all the way to Haiti. My first name is the most perfect name for myself, so I just have to thank my parents for that, my mother’s name starts with the same letter as my name.

You could feel the riot before you could see it. There was something else in the crisp early morning New York air, a certain electricity. A certain static that could only have been brought about by the winds of change. Even at three am the city is usually alive, but in these early Saturday morning hours Christopher Street was more alive than usual. However, it wasn't the normal flamboyant energy it had come to been known for. It was an angry energy, one that's only capable of being created by an oppressed group fed up with the constant mistreatment they've too long endured.

CHARGE!!!, the crowd went wild as the song was playing in the stadium. As I got closer to the seats it got louder and louder I felt like I was at a monster truck show. Then I got to the seats I turned my head to look at the field and it look a lot more greener than on TV. The home team was practicing on the field ready to beat the Washington Nationals.

3rd Street S. and Franklin is a neighborhood that is slightly impoverished in terms of the old homes along with the more modern buildings. Visiting Betty’s neighborhood allowed for me to see the lack of mingling between the few who were walking around, while also taking in the few amount of cars that were parked. This really surprised me because I figured that Minneapolis is always busy and crowded. It was, for the most part, quiet except for the few cars that were blasting hip hop music. The apartment buildings looked almost exactly the same- red brick, old, and a bit worn down from the entrances and some windows held air conditioners. This contrasted with the new lofts that were on the opposite side of 3rd street. These lofts had clean

Before you turn the page of this book I want you to know that this book is not pleasant. It is full of bad witches and morphed fairies. Even worse a girl who has to go through it all. Her name is Bell Linmor and she has it rough. But don’t worry it all works out.

Christopher’s journey from the enclosed suburbs of Swindon to the bustling city of London exposes to him to an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity, prompting him to gain practical and essential life skills that allow him to live independently. Lost in a London train station, Christopher explains “I did detecting by watching and I saw that…people were buying tickets at big black machines on the wall. And I watched 47 people do this and I memorized what to do. Then I imagined a red line on the floor and I walked over to the wall” (Haddon 173). Sheltered by his father in Swindon, where each house stands in a neat row along the block and has a defined number, Christopher has no knowledge of how to function in an urban environment that is structurally

Riding public transit along the Kipling 45 bus route and making observations made for an interesting group assignment. It became apparent that the route took riders through multiple different areas. When beginning the route the first distinct area that the bus passed through was a suburban residential area. This suburban area has beautiful curb

Again, the dark laughter echoed in her head. Shit, shit, shit. She was so damn stupid, so bloody arrogant. In spite of the sunglasses she wore to lessen the risk of overstimulation to her senses, the lenses were no safeguards against the weighted stares of the people on the bus, and Tung wasn’t here acting as a buffer.