Creative Writing: What's in the Inside is Important Essay

Which was the reason why I hated Eros. I hated that I loved him. I hated that his one glance on me could lift up my mood instantly. For the last six years, ever since Mom and I moved to New York, I have been madly in love with the most unreachable guy in our school.

One day, cutting through the swamp, David comes across the remains of old Indian souls and discovers a skull with jewelry still buried on the bodies. As David kicks at the skull, he hears a voice and looks up to see a black man seated on a stump just looking. The man, wearing a black sash around his body, has a soot-stained face, which makes it appear as if he works in some fiery place. David soon recognizes the stranger as the devil, the black man. Twenty years later we had a family reunion with all my relatives and they started talking about the fire.

“Do let us go downstairs,” I pleaded to John. “There are such pretty rooms there.”

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.

"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.

When I was a kid, about 5 to 8 years old, my hands would always get cold whenever the surrounding air is chilly. My dad would always tell me to rub them together, like you would in order to make fire. And so I did it. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. My fingers grind against each other from the tips of my little fingers to the base of my palm, but none of this worked. My hands still are cold, stone cold. Then my dad said after watching me rub for a whole 3

My story begins when my mom and I moved from Crafton, near Pittsburgh, to my grandparents’ house in Schwenksville at the beginning of first grade. In Crafton, there were not a lot children in my neighborhood; therefore, my wonderful mother and heart rending loneliness were my only friends. Fortunately, in my grandparent’s huge neighborhood, there were three amazing girls that became my best friends. However, those girls were not enough to combat my loneliness. At times these girls were mean to me, but my caring mother was there to lift my spirits. My mother was understanding and always knew what to say when I was lonely. As the story continues my life will hit an unexpected turn when I accepted a last minute invitation from a friend to attend

Making her way toward the sidewalk, she turned right on Doveland Drive. Without a car, Anita must walk two and a half miles to reach Forest Creek Lane, the predominantly upper-class part of town. As she walked, her stomach turned as if she had ridden a fast carnival ride and no matter what she tried to calm her nerves, her attempts were futile. When she reached the street, she couldn't help but stare in awe at the beautiful houses that lined it. Some had the latest car park in front, others had empty spaces while the owner was at work. Anita imagined handsome doctors carrying briefcases and housewives wearing wearing the latest fashions. Anita, at 22, still lived with her parents in the not-so-nice part of town, where houses where becoming dalapitated and the roads and sidewalks were cracked and never fixed. Always feeling as if she didn't belong where she lived, she often imagianed what it would be like to live as other

As we left the school I questioned why they would do this to me. How could they take me out of a place that I was happy in and put me in a new and more intimidating place? What were they thinking? How was i going to move on? I knew better than to start asking questions right then because they would get mad at me, but I had so

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

“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.

The next morning (Y/N) slowly woke up, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. She blinked a couple of times before looking around the room. She went to go get up before doing a double take, her eyes widening. Sitting in random places in her room were all of the characters from The Outsiders, at least all of the characters from Darry's gang. She tried not to start freakout, looking at everyone. They were just like she had imagined them.

Almost instantly, River picked up his feet, sprinting faster and faster through the large crowds of people. A wide grin on his lips as he held the bread in his mouth still, cascading down the busy roads, avoiding cars and people along the way. A few of the pedestrians tried to even help the officer behind him by grabbing the white-haired perp. However, it seemed the boy's lightning fast reflexes resulted in them missing every time. With only a few who grazed his hoodie barely.

in a long black coat, stood a man – his eyes pierced her skin as he