Creative Writing: West Carmichael Is Not My Name

I never knew the Smokies were so close to my grandparent’s retirement village. Every summer all the cousins jammed into Grandpa’s Ford for our jaunt up the mountains. But back then the hills had no name. They were recognized only by the pop of our ears and

After moving to a coastal area upon discovering his interest in marine life and coastal architecture, NAME found a significant love for learning about coastal communities and the ocean itself, leading him to visit the local beaches frequently upon his initial arrival.

You could feel the riot before you could see it. There was something else in the crisp early morning New York air, a certain electricity. A certain static that could only have been brought about by the winds of change. Even at three am the city is usually alive, but

“The Incredible Shrinking Sears” From when I was two years old until I was ten, my parents routinely shuttled my brother and I to the local Sears store every few months to get our pictures taken. My brother and I would sit patiently, smiling, in front of the background my parents

Wally West walked sluggishly through the downpour that currently plagued Star City. His arms were crossed over his chest as he tried to retain some form of the warmth that had left his trembling body a long time ago. He was staring down at the sidewalk and not watching what was ahead of him, which had caused the young red head to crash into a few people from time to time but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had too much on his mind to care at the moment and he was more focused on reaching his destination. The fifteen year old rubbed at his eyes as he felt the familiar sting of tears begin to return for what felt like the tenth time that day.

The weather was pleasant, with cloudless blue skies and the air heavy with birdsong along their route. Accompanying those who were being sent to assess the damage at the Salsolan Outpost had been a choice — the same way drinking when thirsty was a choice — and bringing her slave had been just another facet.

Manos de Dios Amber Mine, Dominican Republic A week later, Donald Gennaro found himself on a raft being pulled to shore in the jungles of the Dominican Republic. Gennaro was a lawyer, and he was most definitely out of place. His grey suit was beginning to stain with sweat. Gennaro wiped

Later that day Kevin decided to go down to the beach to watch the sun fall down the equator with Cornwall. Kevin Thought to himself how he was going to convince Howie to let him go to dog training. Maybe if I show him how great of a dog Cornwall is then

On the first day of riding a new bus, I was lonely. I had just moved to a new house back in second grade so I had a new bus. That meant new friends. I knew nobody at all. I sat sadly near the back of the bus. Then at Ranchero Road two girls that seemingly had kindness in there eyes got on the bus and looked for a seat. Then the one who was a dirty blonde said “What about that seat?” She pointed to my seat.

Krist-Anah Wakins On 03/29/2016 at approximately 3:00pm, I met with Billy Henderson for the purposes of completing necessary financial paper work.

"Hello, Phil Morter! I am writing to you because at last remembered everything so wanted to forget my mind. That I killed Jill and the unknown man, whose name was not able to remember. I can not understand why I did it, but I know that to live with this further simply can not. After your visit, everything changed. Me began to torment the nightmares in which I have seen, as I stabbed a man to dwell on the ill-fated road, as himself shut in the car, as kill the girl, whom I loved more than life

bin as I ran as fast as I could toward the street and then…. I should start with some background information. Hi, Reynold Calaber, at your service. I'm a Junior at Springside High. I’m 17 years old. Springside is a small little town in Texas. We are about 2 minutes from Dallas. My mother, Shanice, works at McDonald's and my father, Marquis, works at Wendy’s. My parents are pretty chill. They let me take their money for the vending machine at school. Everyday I get a pack of skittles to fuel my brain. My sister, Diamond. She is an angel in the form of a human. Let’s cut to the good stuff

The closer I managed to make it to the edge of the cliff the colder it became, the light winds turned into heavy winds, and the ice-cold climate sent chills up my spine. When I looked down into the water it was no longer blue the reflection became unilluminated almost like a pool of blood. Looking into the sky was no longer it's usually color the clouds seemed to have disappeared, not a single trace of stars were in sight to lighten up my mood. The only object emerging was the intense yellow full moon behind the darkness. As I sat at the edge my feet were dangling along with my dark long hair. I began reflecting my life and soon my thoughts became vivid. I didn't want to remember anything. As i reloaded my gun tears fell down my face I

Kelsey Kubistal Mr. West American Literature 13 February 2017 Diversity The array of females in The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald are unique in their own ways. No two people in the world are the same, but these three women: Jordan Baker, Daisy Buchanan, and Myrtle Wilson are definitely contrasting. Not only are they, in particulars, different from one another, but the way they act and the things they do are also very diverse. Daisy Buchanan is more of a laid back, kind of rich girl who has things handed to her because she has money. Whereas, Myrtle lives with her husband, George Wilson, in a run-down, small house on top of George’s auto-repair shop. Jordan Baker lives with her aunt in an apartment in Manhattan and cheats at golf

Kestrel stood silent to the side of the clearing as her mahma swayed in the dance circle. She could not yet take part in dream dances. For the elders felt until the young of the clans completed their Recerca and bonded with their spiritual mentor there was too great a chance to lose themselves in the warp and weft of the visions. Still she often caught a snatch here or there of her mahma’s practice, never enough to bring the dream visions, but as of late she noticed strange swirls of colors or something that spun with Moira’s movements. Swirls that beckoned her to explore deeper. She blinked and stepped back a bit just as her mahma opened her eyes and stood still.