Creative Writing: The Next King Of Evansville

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.

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.

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.

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.

“Honey I’m going to be in Lake Tahoe’s Emergency Room in three days for Suzzane.”

My name is Jeffrey I was born in Mississippi 1989,June 9 where I came from a trailer there.We spent most of our life there in Mississippi. We made kin friends kinda more that family than friends and had a couple of hilarious jests together I felt like I was gunna spend the rest of my life there but I guess not.My family got into some trouble gambling so me and my family was thinking to flee and go to Alabama.So we took a destination stay with Aunt Sheela for a a week or a month to see if we can find a way to get out of this trouble.

Welcome to Sandersville, Georgia. A quaint, little town nestled in Washington County with a population of under 6,000. Seated happily in the Bible Belt, there are more churches than gas stations in the Southern city. We pass the only gas station for miles on the corner of the main street as my family heads to my Aunt’s house. The drive from Atlanta to Sandersville was slower than molasses running up hill—at least according to my mother. Sara Armour is the epitome of the southern belle. A well-spoken lady, she was born in Atlanta, but raised in Milledgeville, GA following her parents’ divorce. With bright red lipstick and a blonde bob, she looks like the carbon copy of her older sisters in that musty kitchen

The streets of South Bellevue are some to never be forgotten. The neighborhood is filled with the joyous laughter of children and the archaic wisdom of the elderly. It is one of the few amicable communities among the busy city. Bellevue shields it’s people like a mom who graciously protects her young from the dangers of the outside world. Bellevue is a wonderful neighborhood with a variety of individual experiences.

What comes to mind when you think of Flint, Michigan? I think of a city filled to the brim with crime and thousands of unemployed workers. A place where you can’t use the water in your own house because you are afraid of getting lead poisoning. As it was once deemed the worst place to live in all of the United States, it is probably hard to think of a time where it was any different. Well, Flint was not always this way. Believe it or not, it used to be a prosperous and beautiful city that was home to one of the richest businesses in the world, General Motors. So you might be wondering, “Why did this amazing place turn into the wasteland it is today?”. Everything that is happening in Flint right now is due to the horrible decision Roger Smith

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.

Similar conversations popped up more and more often the closer we got to North Carolina. It seemed there was a church for every passing mile the closer we got to our destination and a cemetery always nearby.

Cars honk repeatedly and buzz impatiently at the red stop light, waiting to turn green and unhappy for the long wait. Thousands upon thousands of banks across the world handle the currency of America, the green dollars of the USA. It is also the sign of mother nature - from trees, to flowers, to plants. I have always encountered a sensation of calmness and peace from the soothing and natural color, peppermint leaf.