Creative Writing: James Holland's Return

The story skips James’ college years and jumps to when he’s 24 years old. He was a reporter for the Boston Globe, living a nice and successful life, but still was confused about his racial identity. After years of trying to get information about his mother’s past out of her, he finally learned of her where she grew up; Suffolk. He went to a house near where the store used to be and found Eddie Thompson, who told James what he knew about the Shilsky family. In the middle of the night, James awoke and walked down to the Nansemond River and had felt “[…] the loneliness and agony […] suddenly rose up in my blood and washed over me in waves” (229).

James wants to be protective of his little brother even know he is putting him in danger. James sneaks away with Isaac because “He can't just leave him home.” even know it is way more dangerous to go out at night. James knows it is dangerous so he tries to hold Isaacs hand, he resists and that's when I can tell that James regrets bring Isaac along. When James climbs up the sign you can tell that he is scared that

Jimin wakes up to the sound of explosions and fire. A thousand and some men meet their demise each day, and Jimin prays at night he’s not one of them. The war rages around him, and he gets off the make-shift bed to get changed into his gear to help out. He caps the patterned helmet and looks at himself in the mirror. His reflection stares back, sad and weary, a youth gone wrong. He smears camouflage onto his face, high on his cheekbones until there is nothing left of him but an empty vessel of war.

War is unforgiving. He’s seen the bodies scattered around the fields, hastily buried in shallow graves before they begin to fester and rot. He’s seen them shot down before him, bodies hitting the ground and sinking into the mud- whether friend or foe, it matters not. They’ll all die here in the end. All he can do is wait it out, pray to survive until at least this war is over, and return home to a life of suppressing the memories and forgetting the images of men wiped out and dying, forgotten, in these turgid pits of death.

James Jr. was unable to understand his father’s internal perspectives and like the white men, judged his father for being quiet, passive. In this moment, James Jr. does not see the value in his father’s controlled actions. He needed to take a step back and see the situation through his father's eyes in order to

A dark and smoky gray night fell over the green grass. An old lamp at the end of an overused power cord of a wooden pole was swinging in the wind. It lit up the surroundings of the construction and printed my moving shadow on the wall behind me. In the half-light of dusk, I walked out of the ruins that minimally protected me from the wrath of the RPF and showed my face to a fire-breathing dragon. I walked into a thick and wet mist that linked up with the wind to whisper ghostly oohs in my ears. I was scared and my legs trembled. Under the dim light, I could not see anything. The smoking of the war clouded the roof of the region and the cold breeze spread an odor of blood and brought the moans of dying people. The dense haze covering my vision

On August 21, 2015, a suspected terrorist walked shirtless out of a bathroom on a train traveling to France. He was carrying an AK-47, a pistol, a box cutter, and lots of ammunition and he quickly began firing at the people on the train, wounding several. The incident soon had the look of a horrible mass shooting in which there would be dozens of casualties, but then, three American friends and a British man attacked the gunman. They tackled him to the ground but the gunman got out a knife and began slashing at the men, wounding one of them. However, the hero’s on the train choked him into unconsciousness. The total time elapsed was less than 90 seconds.

"Thanks for seeing me, Doctor. Sorry, Heather" Jarrod responded as he brought his gaze back to hers after having surveyed the room, and the view of the city the seventeenth floor location provided. Despite his attraction to the dark side of humanity, and the fact that since puberty the man his foibles, and attraction to the darker side of human nature, this was his first ever visit to a Psychiatrists office. Judging from the furniture and lush surroundings, he came to the conclusion that the profession must be a lucrative one, and Heather MacMillan seemd to be doing okay for herself. If she had to deal with crazies all day, that was probably appropriate.

Holland looked around the pool of the waterfall, trying to see if anything was out of the ordinary. She’d only been to the Kane Falls a couple of times; once with her father and once with Logen. Holland remembered the note instructed her to knock three times but she had no idea where to knock and the sun was slowly making its way behind the horizon. It wasn't unsafe to be out after dark, not in the city, or even in the towns. The forest however, was a different story. There were so many unknown things in the forest that nobody dared attempt to explore it after dark. Even with the sun minutes from the horizon, the forest looked nearly pitch black and unnervingly foreboding.

Marcus scaled the steep mountain hill, thick gravel shifting around his feet, creating small landslides down behind him. The moon was out, and casting white rays through the thick canopy above, giving him just enough light to stumble his way up. Marcus lived alone, on the outer edge of a small village, enjoying a quiet, mostly self sufficient life. From his cabin far below he had spied bright white lights illuminating streaks across the sky, flowing like rivers from their unidentified source at the peak of the mountain. He had found himself enthralled and unable to resist investigating, despite his better judgement pleading against it. He had no one to tell of his going, so he had begun the journey almost immediately after his initial spotting of the strange

Being closest to the window, he glanced over his shoulder through the white blinds and saw two formally dressed men on the porch. A strong sense of dread threatened to overwhelm every part of his body. His eyes climbed up towards their expressionless faces. Standing there were the detectives–but they didn’t wear the same optimism they had for the last two months. Optimism that Michelle and himself had latched onto. Something was wrong.

the man had taken the paper. James thought that someone was trying to stop him from investigating this case. He thought to himself that he would go back to the scene of the fire and find who what happened as james slept.

Ryder Collins is a smart, and youthful high school senior at batesville high. He has a heart full of love and a head full of adventure. Late one night when Ryder was walking through the graveyard near his house he heard a horrific scream that he thought sounded like a young girl. Ryder became frightened and started to run, as he made it to the exit of the graveyard he saw what looked like someone sleeping in a pile of leaves. Just like everyone would, Ryder became curious and decided to check it out. As he drew near he started to regret ever even entering the graveyard that evening. But Ryder couldn’t resist a mystery, so he kept walking. Finally Ryder got near the pile of leaves and saw something that he never thought he would see in all his

There were hushed voices around him, making him wonder if those odd people had watched him the whole time he had fallen asleep. He found himself feeling oddly detached from the thought, which should have scared him.

The police believed a man by the name of James was committing a string of crimes throughout the city related to theft, murder, kidnapping, and the like. Of course, this wasn’t entirely false. There was a man named James kidnapping and thieving throughout this city. Many refrained from conversing about him. It’s rumored his presence haunts the streets both day and night. Though, I never had time to believe such myths.