Creative Writing: Jarrod's Attractions

That look. All I can think of is that look in Johnny’s eyes. He wasn't suppose to die, the rest of the gang could die at the same time but Johnny just can’t die. He was supposed to stay out of trouble, get away from his godforsaken parents, leave this place. He was supposed to be better than all of us.

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.

"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.

It was late. The moon had risen high and the starry sky brightening up the dark night. Various hex-tech lamps lit up the mostly clear streets of Piltover, and the buildings had their lights off. All, but one.

Her voice was like a whisper as the jail’s bars slowy closed upon her face. her vision was still dizzy, and she had not eat anything for hours. turning her head back, she tried to walk. clumsy steps were the best she could do, occasionally almost stumbling to reach the bed, or at least what seemed like a bed to her.

You can't catch anything!" Tommy exclaimed to Blake. The two young boys were playing catch in the park. It was a bright sunny Saturday afternoon. These two were best friends and always came to this park everyday to play catch. This park. The park they're parents would never them go to. This park was known for being a bad park. Anything bad anyone could think of had supposedly happened here. Blake and Tommy knew that, but it had the best baseball field. The baseball field was definitely not in good shape, but it would prepare them for any bad field they could play on.

Upon taking a flashlight, brand new with full battery life, into the tunnel, I found the fuse box that controls the lights overhead. After opening it, I found all the fuses were in perfect condition and functional, once confirming this fact I proceeded to move the switch into an upwards position to test if power was still coming in. To my surprise, the light came on without hesitation, save for the few that blew out instantly. With the lights now on, I ventured farther into the tunnel to record its length and depth. At around one mile in, the smell of decay and old blood was becoming stronger and the walls were beginning to turn red from what I can confirm to be blood, purely that of a

On the first day of riding a new bus, I was lonely. I had just moved to a new house back in second grade so I had a new bus. That meant new friends. I knew nobody at all. I sat sadly near the back of the bus. Then at Ranchero Road two girls that seemingly had kindness in there eyes got on the bus and looked for a seat. Then the one who was a dirty blonde said “What about that seat?” She pointed to my seat.

Jarrod Cross arrived at her offices, and unknotted the mauve and white neck-tie he wore with a pale blue silk shirt, and a three thousand dollar grey Armani suit. It had only been a short walk for the thirty-three year old man with shortish light brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and athletic body of one who regularly played tennis and squash, from the downtown office where he ran a one-man stock consulting business, and kept his own hours. He'd whistled the entire way. For a man who was supposedly depressed, Jarrod was in a good mood, however he deliberately changed his apparent demeanour by curling his lips down into a scowl, rubbing his eyes with his palms to redden the irises, and roughly mussing the hair on his scalp until each strand stood up straight, before he pushed through the entrance door.

“Now you’re thinking.” Jim said, patting Mike on the back. “Now, come on. We’d better be get back in there and break the news to Miss. Withers that she’ll be going home instead of our sex dungeon like we had planned.”

The single drive and one story house was home for a family of 4. Teaching school and driving buses got them the house on a street filled with strangers who would soon become life long friends. Marriage and college took the children dear to their hearts to new streets where life would mature them. Bumpy roads and misfortune would bring this 4 person home back together, but this time adding two more little ones for memories to be had. Years of growing older and moving through grade school would turn a short time visit into a long one. Friends and family coming and going, that door never once came unhinged. A house as busy as that one could never break because of the love shared in it. Home improvements along

“Wow, I hope that’s me someday…” Bryan (the Rocket) Rockwood thought as he gazed upon a wax mannequin of Wayne Gretzky holding the Stanley cup. Bryan and Ty were at a hockey hall of fame museum fairly close to his home. “Wouldn’t that be amazing?” Ty asked in awe. Rocket’s best friend were Ty and Adam. He was humongous, about 5 foot 9. Compared to Rocket he looked like his older brother. Rocket guessed that he was about 5 feet tall. Rocket was very short. They had all started playing for AAA Rangers hockey team 4 years ago, the year Rocket moved here. Bryan moved here because his parents split up. It was tough because he rarely saw his dad, and his mom worked almost 12 hours a day and got next to nothing. Nevertheless, she managed to pay for his hockey. “I just want to see what's inside!”

JJ sighed. "I know," she said, pushing her pillows up against her headboard. She smiled as she turned to him after settling herself back in the bed.