Creative Writing: Deprivation In America

Right now I’m in these trenches writing a heart-filled letter for y’all. But these unbearable conditions have been unsettling to me. Everytime I want to get away from the gruesome war, I think about you. The shots of the machine guns, getting exposed to mustard gas, and having to see my fellow soldiers having to deal with trench foot, all makes me feel hopeless of me staying alive. All day and night, we had to be on the lookout. Planes from the sky makes us vulnerable for air attacks. All aside from all of those problems, the one main goal is to one day find my horse Joey. Maybe both of us will somehow meet me once again during or after the war. I’m very sorry to you guys if I don’t make it home alive, but I’m going to make a big promise, never in a day or night, will I forget about you guys.

It was a rainy day in Little Rock, Arkansas. Madison, 13, sat in her room for most of the day. Her mom, Amanda, came in her room and said she’s going to the store and wanted to know if she wants to go. Since it was a boring rainy day she agreed. They got in the van and went on their way. They arrived at walmart , and started to get their groceries. Madison passed by the jewelry and scarves then saw something. It looked fuzzy, so what 13 year old wouldn’t be interested by that? She looked and it was a rabbit’s foot. She didn’t know too much about the superstition, she just knew it was supposed to bring good luck and sort of believed it but only really wanted it because it matched her backpack and it was fuzzy. She told her mom that she wanted

Hi Mom! Hope you're doing well. I'm sorry that I haven't been writing to you in a while, things have just been pretty hectic here. None of us have been getting any sleep around here because we are all stuck in these trenches and are always on guard. Every morning, we'd get up and look around. We always have to stay in the trenches unless our "leader" yelled "Over the top", which means the call to attack.

only for an hour or two but 1 day a green light gas came threw

Hello, this is Kelsey Maley reporting from a battlefield in France during spring of 1914. As you can most likely hear, the battle is booming behind us. The gunshots and cannon fires can be heard from miles away. From where I am standing one can also hear the cries and screams, and running horse hooves from the war below. Looking down we can see the khaki and grey uniforms either riding horses or hiding in trenches and with guns or swords. It is hard to concentrate on these men in uniforms because of the dirt and smoke covering the air around them. Walking up here is difficult because of the bumps in the ground. One may be able to feel the rumbling and shaking ground every time a cannon is fired. Each side is obeying the screams from their comandor

By March 1915 the influx of refugees from Belgium was almost at an end and Epworth played host to a social reunion consisting of games, dancing, and songs to bring together all those who had been housed in the Isle. Part of the entertainment featured songs from Mrs. W. Hirst and Mrs. R. Stephenson and a pianoforte solo by Mrs. Breeze. The month saw farmers becoming increasingly rueful; the fine weather created ideal growing conditions but a shortage of men and horse hampered progress. Indeed, there was concern that horses in the Isle were being ‘worked to death in order to make up for the lack of numbers.’ Members of the Belton VTC celebrated the opening of their new rifle range where Mr. G. H. Newborn exhorted them to use it well to learn

After abandoning the camp we stumbled across the country side and found a house. As we sit by the wall, we think about our fellow soldiers now in heaven. I look up to the sky to see shepherds delight or more like the resemblance of the blood of the abandoned. Why everyone was quiet, I don’t know. There probably just tired from the great determination. Many of us seeking an end but will be disappointed and become depressed. Trepidation of death has occurred in several of us.

Today has been the most eventful day in all my life. I almost got my leg cut off, tried to kill myself, and became a war hero, in line to be promoted to Lieutenant. I cannot remember much from the first battle, in which I almost lost my foot, besides the blinding pain the came during it. I suspect the feeling will not leave me for the rest of my days. Pain so blinding I could not even manage a scream of pain. If was as if lightning had struck me and all the hornets in the world had decides that I was their worst enemy. The torture felt as if it had lasted for hours though only seconds after the attack I passed out and was dragged off of the battlefield. I woke up in the hospital tent, surrounded by bloody knives and surgery instruments, and looked outside to see what was to become my fate, a man hobbling along on one foot, being supported by tree branches alone.

Then he cursed as though he learned it from a manual for sergeants, and his curses merged with the metal slapping air sound of a prop turbine. Dad heard the Bunge’s voice sputter. It sounded as if he stored his anger deep inside him. In order for him to access it, he had to pump it out, using every muscle in his stomach, back, and neck. Sarge cursed, rocking with the effort until his voice became a high-pitched hum.

We arrived at D.C. The imprisoned citizens cheered to find themselves freed from the grasp of chains. I smiled a little. I got off the horse and so did Jonathan and the little kid. I tried to pet it again. Its head pushed against my chest softly and snorted, “ what should I name you stallion?” I thought for awhile and found a name for the horse, Night’s-Edge, Night for short. I pet Night’s ear and sighed then put her on a stall to wait for my return, “ i’ll be back, Night. I promise” Night snorts then looks away and eats the grass. The little child that was on Night with me and Jonathan tugged at my pants a little to get my attention. I looked at the child and he looks at my eyes with fear, “ what’s the matter?” the child looks down and whimpers

“I thought this would be a good idea for me. Also I did not want to be drafted.” Before he made this huge decision in his life he worked at a bubblegum factory. When he decided to join the military he was only 18. “I was probably the most nervous person there.” he said. Tom was very brave and Frank his brother was strong. They both went over to Vietnam and they stuck together throughout the war.

A blue house, red shutters, and a white picket fence with a border collie. Three kids are running around in the front lawn up on a hilltop. That is what the American dream is right? The American dream is truly in the eye of the beholder. One might think that the American dream is an apartment in downtown Los Angeles, but others might want the smell of fresh cut grass in a small suburb. It’s whatever the person who is working for it wants it to be. As we can see in the play, all of the main characters might be striving for an American dream, but none of them are striving for their same American dream.

A couple of hours later I walked the trail towards the village jail, in hopes to see Jason. On rehash, he was one of the uppermost honest and friendly folks on the island, and the best shot as well. Though I always considered myself one of the best at spearfishing, Jason was better, and a steadier aim; he literally never missed a shot. His interests and passions had always been so forthright and reliable that in societal context, he took in everyone’s trust for granted. And, as it turned up, Duende resembled him in personality, although she exhibited the unworldliness befitting of a native who never left the islands. Unlike Jason, who was in the islands on vacation from the U.S., and had both his parents alive as well as siblings, Duende never

James entered the office. The room was organized, yet filled with clutter. Faded traces of smoke lingered among the accounts and reports stacked about the corners of the room. A balding, egg-shaped man with a compensating mustache slouched against an ornate armchair; his nervous blue eyes sifted through heaps of yellowed papers. He look up. Recognition.

A thick blanket of clouds soon engulfed the sky followed by an unstintingly mild breeze for the month of January , but it wasn't enough of a deterrent as they only temporarily need to lower their signs so as to prevent them to be blow amok like confetti in breeze. Upon glancing over to the white house it was undeniable the way it gazed back. It didn't seem as white a sit usually is and it did not nod speak its daily words of optimism, but instead of dubious skepticism to their daunting task to which they were moments away from