Creative Writing: Uncle Tom's Cabin

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.

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 August of 1829 in Mississippi. Men were harvesting corn and beans. The smell of the Choctaw own acorn bread filled the air. All the children were prancing about, playing with friends, shooting squirrels with their little toy bows, and wrestling for the last bite of jerky. All but one child. That lonely little boy’s name was Koi. Koi never got to play with the other Choctaw boys, as he had to prepare to become chief.

It was March 21st, 1765 and everything in the colony of South Carolina was as usual. I was walking back from the main store in the middle of town, I had gone to the store for some flour. I got home and helped my mother with dinner. The Seven Years War had ended a few years ago and the colonies are still recovering. The British Crown has put the sugar and currency acts on us but there are no real disruptions here.

Jake opened his pocket watch, tipping the crystal face toward the low flames of the campfire. Another hour before daylight and he’d pick up Duvall’s trail. The muscles in his jaw clenched, hate pulling at every part of him. He’d kill Duvall, and he’d do it with Texas’ silent blessing. No judge had pronounced a sentence, but Jake saw the outlaw pull the trigger—watched Harrison die.

Katy meets with Gilbert down at the courthouse and sign documents with him and they hand them in to get stamped with photographers and their parents nearby. Their document is stamped with a void and a different document is put in an envelope and passed to Gilbert. He puts it in his pocket and tries to kiss Katy, but she quickly stepped away from him in fear.

“Cas it cost a fortune to get you to go to this camp,” her mom yelled. Cas didn’t want to go because her least favorite person would be there. Cas walk to her closet and grabbed two suitcases full of clothes and a couple pairs of shoes.

“John you know that using actual print will not give us the audience we seek”.

Jews only make up 1.8% of the population in the United States, which is about 5.4 million people. Of that 5.4 million people 4.3 million of them live in major metropolitan areas like New York City, Los Angeles, and Miami. That leaves 1.1 million Jews living scattered throughout the US forming their own small communities wherever they have settled. I am one of these scattered Jews. I was born in Pasadena, California so I started life as a Hollywood Jew, but at the age of 3 my parents decided to move back to the east coast to be closer to their families who live in New York City and Baltimore. Instead of moving to one of these areas, my family moved to Seaford, Delaware, population: 5,000, Jewish population: 2. Although

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.

Approximately four hours into their travel, a red firework exploded in the distance and previously concealed bandits emerged from behind boulders, undergrowths and covered pits. They charged with the ferocity of a tidal wave, brandishing weapons and bellowing threats. Aloysius halted his horse, made a signal, and soldiers began to move forward.

Ludwig looked absolutely pissed. That was the first thing Arthur noticed as the blonde stalked down the halls, hair down for once, clothes askew, and such a strong irritation on his face that Arthur couldn’t help but snort to himself. It looked like someone had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, Ludwig never let his appearance be thrown together like that. The next thing Arthur noticed, however, was a little more interesting. A small statured man with silver hair, whose head only came to Ludwig’s shoulder, was hanging onto the blonde’s arm, a large grin on his lips. Now who the hell was that? It wasn’t like the Brit had seen him around school before, and Ludwig certainly hadn’t mentioned him.

By nightfall they had finished all of the burials. It was depressing to see how many people were dead, even more so knowing that wasn’t the majority of them. Several times throughout the day new carcasses were dumped carelessly on the dwindling pile, just adding another hole to dig.

“You cut you’re beautiful, long hair after your return. Mom thought you were in protesting the war, but I saw you two. I knew the real reason you cut the longest blond braid in the neighborhood.”