Creative Writing: The End Of Huckle Road

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

The drive home was difficult; his vision swam and his muscles felt stiff and achy. Too bright city lights glared at him, pierced his eyes. His head throbbed, beat, beat, beat, in rhythm with his racing heart. Nausea rocked in his stomach and every noise seemed amplified. Why were these damn people driving so slowly? He needed to get home; he was already late as it was, and his father wouldn't be pleased. Leaving the glowing city behind him, Aiden found slight relief in the peaceful country roads and sharp peppermint smelling pines that surrounded his home, if you could call it that.

I comfortably drive my car into the desolate street, Perusing the deserted buildings, Smashes windows and rusted For Sale signs. The car locked up like Fort Knox. I observe the street for trouble. Two young boys look at me from afar as if I'm an alien. Do I stand out that much same greasy hair, expensive clothes, a smart car I suppose I am out of my comfort zone? “Mister, you don’t belong here” his hand gripped his switch. “Pony.... Ponyboy Curtis” I stammer “I live here or at least I did, I'm here to see two-bit’ The Boys turn around “geez his old now” the boy's chirp. The boys stroll away in awe that they saw the great Ponyboy.

I play football here at ULM and we have been in our fall camp for the last 23 days. It is a mental, physical, and emotional strain and tensions are running high. One day early on in camp we were out in the blistering heat practicing. We were almost finished when we called a screen pass and I was going to be the main blocker for the play and if I messed up it wouldn't work. Then as soon as the ball was snapped I stepped with the wrong foot first. This slowed me down and the defender was able to clobber our receiver behind the line of scrimmage. My position coach, Coach Clark, immediately ran over yelling, "What are you doing? Where is the direction you can't lose your man on that play?" I knew what I had done wrong, "I can't let him get up the

"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.

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.

“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.

Anna was walking home from her job thinking it's the same thing everyday I wake up go to my minimum wage job then go home nothing new. Anna finally arrived to her lonely small apartment she had no family ever since they died in a house fire last year, she walked inside and went to her fridge and pulled out some old chinese takeout from last week, and ate it while walking to the couch she plopped down on her couch with her food in hand and turned on the TV, she turned it on the news she saw that it was a serial killer on the loose in her area. It scared her a little but she thought what are the odds of him killing me. Anna turned the TV off and went to sleep, but she did not realize that she did not close her window. While she rested peacefully

Dalton took the bat and sat down on his uncomfortable, worn out, brown leather couch. He stared blankly at the black television screen waiting, he was waiting for the unknown, he was waiting for the being that was on the other side of the wall. Thoughts floated through his mind all night. “When is he going to come?” “Why didn’t he come yet?” “What happened to Linda?”. When morning finally came he tried to call sick to work but it didn’t ring once and decided to take a look at Linda’s house and when he was leaving his house he noticed something weird. He wasn’t in his apartment building any more.His apartment looked like it had been taken out of the building and put into the field behind where his apartment used to be. Out of nowhere he heard strange noises he looked around and saw nothing, until out of the corner of his eye he saw something, something that didn’t belong and it saw him. He started to run. He saw a patch of trees, he ran towards it. He ran through the trees for an hour, he started hearing cars in the distance so he knew he was close to

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.

So if you’re riding a strapping 4 or 5-year-old, keep in mind that his skeleton isn’t fully mature yet! He might not grow visibly bigger, but his body is still developing into its adult form and that may continue until he’s past his 6th birthday. So be careful not to yank his neck or slam on his back. Horses whose backs are still fusing are more vulnerable to back injuries and structural damage from riding.

As the light turned green, I sat for a moment, not moving, and asked myself what I was going to do. Then I accelerated slowly, waiting for the car on my left to pass as I changed over to the left lane. I made four left turns at four consecutive stoplights until I approached the library again. Pulling into the library's parking lot, I turned off my lights, radio, and heat. As I opened the car door, the cold air stung me like a quick slap to my face. Slowly and uncertainly, I walked toward Mike.

A shibboleth spread from day 1; a vastly inhuman, yet immutable affidavit echoed through generations. Originally, my occupation was to translate for gaijin that resided at Changi, a title deprecated by senior officers. Like most, I joined not understanding the severity of the plight we faced. Knowing nothing of the dismay that they inflicted, although my experiences enlightened me to reach deeper, and delve into an educated frame of mind. Admirable officers have told me tales of men screaming and climbing the fence in a frenzy, disobeying every order given. Whilst others relay imagery of guards strangled to death, bleeding profusely with chunks of flesh feed on. A worthy

A cool breeze was thrown into the hot summer air, and I breathed it all in. Today was August 2005, and school was nearing a little bit faster than I had hoped. I was on the swing, reading one of my favorite books. The blue bird in the distance called out, and I slowly drifted into sleep.