Creative Writing: Stop And Get On The Ground !

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.

“Your hour starts now” said the hitman in a raspy voice as he ends the call.

This time the store owner had called the police. Roxy had shoplifted from his establishment before but I had always been able to fix it; most times by paying double the price. Peering through the faceted glass of my front door, I could see Mr. Pachenko pacing the brick-edged sidewalk, his face pale with anger. With his blood pressure, the bright red spots on his cheeks would be with him for the rest of the night.

When Dutch felt they were a safe distance away, he pulled off the road. He and Gilbert jumped out, yanked the Water Company wording and emblems off the truck, and threw them a good distance from the road. Dutch and Gilbert ran to the back of the truck, looked in, and met the gaze of Marcel, Dorian and Saban. They stared at each other in wide-eyed amazement. Marcel chuckled—then laughed. Then they all laughed. They laughed so hard, tears filled their eyes. Even Cedric who was lying on his stomach on the floor of the truck was smiling. With the tension quelled, they regained their composure. Marcel cautioned Dutch to stay off the main roads. By now the Germans were broadcasting news of the raid and checkpoints would be everywhere. Marcel told

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

As the winds wisp through the willowy woods on one warm November nighttime, our worrisome subject eyes a wooden orifice far into the night. The crunch of leaves and pinestraw accompany his stroll through the midnight Mississippi forest. Spanish moss waves through the wind as Deacon, or as he is affectionately known by his friends as Deac, moves ever so closer to this new object. It is the source of his visit to this mundane backwood land that appears otherworldly to Deac. A cabin in the woods is where Deacon is making his trek to, to visit his girlfriend’s family. “They could’ve told me that I couldn’t drive to the cabin,” Deacon mumbled to himself as he battles the brisk, hard blast of the breeze in the barren woodland. Deacon reaches the door of the

Theo glanced for the last time the cloth that had accompanied him since his brother died and he crawled to get away from Siri. The water hit against his chest, making it hard to make progress. He did not travel far.

Halloween is a holiday that is celebrated on October 31st. you watch halloween movies some of them can be very scary. Halloween is a fun way to get candy have fun be spooky.I was always scared of halloween when I was little.Halloween is celebrated in America by tricker treating and getting candyHALLOWEEN is used to wear scary outfits and get candy for the fun of it.

"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.

I hunkered down behind the massive boulder and managed to wedge myself between it and another stone and I kicked out. It didn’t budge. I shoved again, harder, but it wouldn’t give an inch. My only option was to use

In the excerpt “Forties” from the novel Reverence to Rape, Haskell examines the portrayal of women in the films from the forties. American screenwriters during this time portrayed female protagonists in a negative way. Women were displayed as severely evil and immoral beings. This was a great contrast to the sexually and morally free women in the films created in the thirties.

Each day Bat stared into the leafy trees above him, wingless and hopeless. Through the trees, however, was the thing he really longed to see, be and love. Above in the bright blue sky Bird could be seen swooshing and speeding through cotton candy clouds and tall magnificent jungle trees. Bat had always wanted to meet bird but every day at dawn Bird swooped up into the sky, up and up until she was just a speck on the other side of the impassible wall separating them. Every day for hours bat tried over and over to one day fly up to be with bird, however, none of them worked. Instead, Bat was met with the painful laughs and taunting the other rodents spat at him. Bat wanted to give up, to leave his fantasies, and to live the life he was meant to live but there was something always urging him not to give up. Whenever he looked up at bird he felt inside him that he was meant to fly, and that being a rodent wouldn't hold him back.

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Eyes open, sprawled out and I grasp at… air, air. Waking up I’m no longer in the nightmarish abyss, clutching at the light above, my fingertips never reaching a single ray. Still I’m sweating down waterfalls, panting, panting…panting for no reason. There aren’t any cliffs in Florida. The land’s flat. I’m not going to fall off anything anytime soon. Cue Bob Marley on the Music app: “Don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing is going to be al…”

Being neither of the work force or a buisness head, it is difficult to take a stance on if a work day should be shortened or kept similarly the same. To be frank, finances are a key componant to any living being's life, and the productivity of a company, as well as a proportional paycheck, is as much determined on each other as on surrounding circumstance, but how does a company owner, or an employer, find this medium, this perfect middle? It's not an easy task, with the cash market so volitile, to foresee if their experimentations are dependant on workers or the outside influence of consumers. Having never thought over the problem, both articles give one much to think about.