Creative Writing: Major's Death

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

Purgatory: A place where the most malignant/hazardous fiends are jailed due to their assailments on the human race. Their thirst for human blood still lingered within them, even after centuries of being caged in Purgatory. They probed everywhere for a way out of the illimitable, gloomy, foggy forest and rivers; killing themselves and others with hunger and insanity. Once a fiend is in, it’s nearly impossible to get out without a Reaper’s or Knight’s scythe.

"Probably not, Ash," Ethan sighed. He had always thought it'd be a SWAT team or a mob squad or some crazed villain that could come kicking down his door, not two kids with fetishes. Still, now was time to start phasing all of it somewhere else. He couldn't really call his Hollow secret now, could he? Well, it was arguable that he couldn't before, but now that two of the people involved in Bastion's suicide had found it, he'd need to move it. All of it. The very thought of the logistics of it gave him a headache.

Sting Eucliffe, 18 years old, approaches the dorm building at Magnolia University. His heart is pounding in his chest, a mile a minute. He honestly had no clue what to expect, but good lord was he glad to be out of high school. There he was bullied endlessly for being gay, both with words and with fists. He could almost still feel their rough hands slapping him across the face, shoving him to the floor of the locker rooms... And the worst part was, no one had cared. Sting's mother passed away when he was little, barely even 4 years old, and his father was a business man who was never home. Sting had gotten used to being quiet about these sorts of things, having no one to really vent to anyways. Here he hoped he could make a fresh start. Find a job, pass his classes, make some friends... Anything really. Anything but a scenario like high school

The weight room became his sanctuary and he was always there 2 hours before everyone else in the morning and a hour more in the afternoon. Football could be his ticket out of high school. He was a top recruit his Junior year and stunned every college coach that watched him run and hit. The only problem was Jack's academics. He held a D average and was always on the verge of dropping out, but his principal knew the school needed Jack for football, which kept him afloat. Jack finished his Junior year football season and had his whole life ahead of him. He felt on top of the world and nothing could stop him. Jack became a big partier and knew he could play football anywhere he wanted, so he didn’t care about anything. After a party he was driving home and was still intoxicated. Falling asleep at the wheel he crashed into a lightpost only a block away from his apartment and broke his arm, collarbone, and left

Thunder rumbled overhead as the funeral procession slowly made their way to the cemetery. The sky grew more ominous as rain drops started to fall. They splattered rhythmically on windshields of the cars that were part of this heart rendering day.

Dr. Partridge, her supervisor, answered, “They had a horrible relationship. The father was in the habit of drinking excessively; and one night, he and his wife got into a fight, and he killed her.”

The party just had to be as grand as possible. How could it not be? The quarter was practically bursting with business, and the family couldn’t be more content. Who wouldn’t love living in the 1920’s New orleans during the time of flapper girls, brothels, jazz clubs and bars. The people who run it love it, but the people who let’s say owe them don’t. However, like any family, there’s always a fight or some type of rift to seperate loyalties and cause drama. Unfortunately, in this family, drama can only lead to death.

It was another day in the monotonous schedule of McGill Toolen Catholic High School. I was stuck in the smallest classroom in the world and longed to leave. The bell rang out, signaling my journey to the next teacher, the mighty, stereotypically dressed Coach Thompson. Upon my arrival to the locker room, I was assigned one objective, change out. I performed what I was told in the largest and well-maintained locker room in America. “Alright, let’s go!” Coach Thompson’s deafening voice boomed throughout the luxurious locker room.

“Mrs. Mitchell is in critical condition.” Lydia’s face crumpled and she was about to give up hope when the doctor spoke again. “Her legs are both broken and, due to the lengthy time spent without access to blood, almost completely dead. She has two broken ribs, a broken arm, and a minor concussion. Luckily, there was no damage to the brain. I know this must be so hard for you both, but chin up! Although she will never walk again, we are almost positive that we will be able to heal her broken bones and her other minor injuries.” At Lydia’s concerned look, he clarified. “By minor injuries, I simply mean cuts, gashes, bruises and the like. In conclusion, we will be able to help Mrs. Mitchell, but she will have to stay overnight, perhaps for a week or two. Do the two of you need a place to stay?” After the pair mutely shook their heads, Mr. Hal walked up to the front desk, paid the bill, and drove Lydia to his house in silence. “You can stay here until we get your house fixed up,” he told her as they hopped out of the wagon

During the funeral I realized that the reason why I wasnt there was because if I did go to it I would cry and show my weakness. I am walking through the garden and I heard footsteps, So I hid in a bush and couldn’t make out who they were because it is dark. I grab my sword from its sheath and attack the intruder, It is Roden. He attacked me and cut my stomach, but I fought back. As soon as he had me pinned down he said that I have one week to surrender to the pirates or they would attack Cathia. Roden left once he heard my soldiers running to help me. After the funeral, I went to talk to Mot, he was with King Vargan the King of Avenia. They helped me get bandaged and Mot said something about a steward taking my role as king until I was older,

The first time I saw her she was perched on my chair at New Westview High in the English 11 classroom and was twirling a luxurious pair of earbuds around her elegant and slender fingers wrapping them around like whips. Lethal. Pestilent. Yet still there was something about her that was bewitching. She screamed anguished closures and shredded promises. Back then I just had a feeling. One of those nauseating, petrifying feelings but almost addictive when I went near her. She had these black and red beats that were colossal compared to her meagre face but she didn't seem to mind. They kept slipping off her sleek, smooth hair. Why would she have earbuds and headphones? Like what an idiot. Her fingers and feet tapped out the rhythm on the floor.

Gasping for air, I widely opened my eyes and saw bright blinding lights shooting down at me, closing my eyes for a brief moment, I inched them down to the hospital clothes I was wearing.

Last week, police discovered at least 20 partially decomposed bodies of migrants piled into an abandoned truck on the shoulder of an Austrian highway leaving the Hungarian border. "The state of the bodies made establishing the identity and exact number of dead migrants difficult, but the number could rise to 50," said Hans Peter Doskozil, Chief of Burgenland police. He also mentioned that the truck had Hungarian license plates. The police were given information that it was left on Wednesday and the back door was left open. They thought the truck had mechanical problems until they saw the blood dripping and the smell of rotting flesh. They will not disclose anymore information to the public. Not even any possible identities, whether any children

Thanks for your prompt response on this matter. Major those Absentees don't make any type of sense. The excuses were doctor's appointments, and I was in class part of the day. I came to class and leave at the time of my appointment. I am only out of class when I am sick. The gym excuse I was in gym class, and I got an allergic reaction from unknown substance in the gym that causes my eyes to become blood shoot red. Capt. Jensen sent me home. I have the same doctor’s appointment coming up again, now I am scared to make them because I don’t want my permanent records to smear with absentees. This is really bad for me. I don’t take things like this too lightly, being on time and present is very important to me.