Creative Writing: Why Jack Had To Quit School

The forest had gone.... and the Witch looked much younger. Audette opened her eyes and had found herself upon a brow of white lilies. The shape of the shrouded old woman seemed changed. Having turned around, and opened her mantle to the tearing gusts, Meliza revealed to the young lady two streams of shinging blackness and smooth white flesh. Audette stopped in her tracks.

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.

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.

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.

Laurel nodded her head when she heard that Zinda would be willing to aid her in her efforts of keeping the city running smoothly. “With that attitude I think Ryder will love you.” She stated with a small laugh, her head shook from side to side. “Even before the outbreak I always had a hard time sleeping.” She reached her right hand up and placed it against the back of her neck, rubbing at it. “So it really doesn’t bother me all that much.” She nodded her head. She knew what Zinda said was true, that she should try and sleep more but that seemed easier said than done. She really tried to sleep at night sleep just seemed to elude her, it was never there when she really need it. Like the night they got back from the Farmhouse, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and forget the whole events that had taken place there. Sadly that didn’t happen, she stayed up all night thinking about how she could have done thing differently, that she should have stayed with Kate.

After John harnessed the team to the wagon, he, Charity, and Charles loaded Uriah into it. She and Charles then headed to town with him. She left John and Martha Jane to watch over the younger children, with strict orders that they had all better be on their best behavior until her return. John was nearly twelve; she figured he ought to be capable of watching the little ones.

Drenched and frozen, only the warmth from their mothers’ kept the young creatures sustained. The trees’ limbs hung low from the weight of the swampy atmosphere; causing the joyous ambience of the forest to restrain her passion.

It tells the story from the perspective of a young girl, who continuously gets scolded by her mother for going against social norms by writing. She continues to write despite the rebuke she receives from her mother because she hears the voices of the women who lived before her pleading her to continue writing. The girl explains that while most of her female family members experienced rape, they did not feel shame instead “They were singing, searching for meaning in the dust. And sometimes, they were talking to faces across the ages, faces like yours and mine.” (page 194). The reason these women did not feel shame was because they understood that while this act was horrible they needed to continue on with life in order to establish hope for the future generations that come after them. The reader gets to understand that life is cruel, but it is sometimes for the better. It also addresses this at the end of the epilogue when the girl’s mother has finished braiding her hair “..ask you to name each braid after those nine hundred and ninety-nine women who were boiling in your blood, and since you had written them down and memorized them, the name would come rolling off your tongue. And this was your testament to the way that these women lived and died and lived again.” (page 196) This shows the ultimate reward the people

If he had been human, everything would have been easier. Hal's life would have been so much better; he wouldn't have been forced to fight, or be controlled by the code in his head. He would have grown into a different, maybe better person. But then, they would still be stuck in the compound, still there when the bots had malfunctioned, and they may have not even escaped. Perhaps they would have died an untimely death and not have escaped into the wastes and would be left to rot in the desecrated compound, forgotten, and the only sign they were there were their desecrated skeletons, and even those would be ground away by the sands of time until they eventually became nothing. It was a pity that they would meet that fate regardless; Dirk would

In the story the author portrays the protagonist differently from the other characters because she talks about the physical appearance of other characters and when it comes to the narrator we have no idea what she looks like but she is developed partially through her relationship with other characters, although we the readers do come the find out that the narrator is around the age of 15-17 years old and we can assume that she has a bad relationship with her parents because first of all she talks about them maybe once or twice in the whole story and second of all we know that they sent her to boarding school so that alone proves that her relationship with them is lacking. As readers we also know that she has trouble opening up in the story she say “To open your heart. You open your legs but can’t, or don’t dare anyone, to open your heart” (237). This is a prime example of how author characterizes the protagonist as broken and emotionally damaged. And as the story progress the author becomes more honest with us the readers and herself, she starts the reveal the pain she is in and how lonely she feels. The narrator gives us an example of how she feels after sex by saying “After sex, you curl up like a shrimp, something deep inside you ruined, slammed in a place that sickness at

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.

Duke had had a few women back in the East; a couple of them serious girlfriends, but mostly just flings, or a floozy who could provide him with somewhere to live. The thief was a man who hated commitment, whether it was to a woman, or a lease on his own apartment, and if he could take advantage of someone else's hospitality, he would. It wasn't as if any of the women actually cared much about his infidelities; with the exception of Amy, his second before last, who was still probably hunting for him with a kitchen knife in hand. Cheating and lying was a way of life back home, and the girls were nothing but a little fun who'd used him for his contacts, and took advantage of his generosity, as much as he did they for their bodies and appearance. And that's pretty much all they possessed; good looks. Each had been

Again, the dark laughter echoed in her head. Shit, shit, shit. She was so damn stupid, so bloody arrogant. In spite of the sunglasses she wore to lessen the risk of overstimulation to her senses, the lenses were no safeguards against the weighted stares of the people on the bus, and Tung wasn’t here acting as a buffer.