Creative Writing: Yagali's Home

“Earlier today, we learned that an attempt was made on your cousin’s life,” her father said to her. “Your mother has so much grief for your cousin, because of the actions that he has made since the past two years – deeds worthy of being told to all

Later in the story she heard her father and mother in the other room and her father was crying about being

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“Mags, come on, we got to get to the rally point, it’s just down the hall,” John said, leader of the 117th squadron. The mission was to get to the rally point in the middle of an invading alien species Mothership. The squadron was composed of 4 outstanding marines, the best of the best. They are part of the selected few, the Guardians.

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.

“After defeating the Cyclops Polyphemus, my men grew exhausted. They grew thirsty from rowing under the beating hot sun. Sweat dripped down their heads and the ship’s deck grew moist from the mix of the salty, seawater and sweat. We stopped by on a nearby island.

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.

After saying goodnight to Simon and Magnus, Clary quickly shut the door to the library. The hallway was silent and still as the ocean tide, she had heard Lilian call for her just as her best friends in the world told her their goodbyes for the night. Magnus had conjured up a portal which would take him and Simon back to the village where they lived. Simon lived in a simple but modest house, on the outskirts of town, on a farm with his Mother and older sister. Magnus however, resided in a small, comfortable loft just above the local clothing store.

What is the personal significance of your given name (first, middle, and last)? My given name is Kimberly Müller. The personal significance of my given name is very important to me because I want my name to always have something great behind it, that’s one of my goals. My surname came from Germany, I sometimes wonder how a German surname came all the way to Haiti. My first name is the most perfect name for myself, so I just have to thank my parents for that, my mother’s name starts with the same letter as my name.

Johnny beamed as he grabbed the bottle from his father and gave it to Karolina. Johnny told her, “I told you my Pa would help.” She carefully opened the bottle and gave her infant son a small sip. He coughed but began to relax in her arms as the medicine began to take effect. In a moment, he was fast asleep. Karolina thanked him and turned back towards her traveling companions.

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

father is the chief of our tribe. One day I was sitting on a bear skin when

"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.

Eveleen’s earliest memory involved her head being forced into the sand as her tormentor pinned her down with his own body. She could remember, clawing up nothing but those course golden grains and those tiny pins embedding themselves beneath her nails, as she desperately sought her escape. The feeling of inhaling of their saltiness as they coated her tongue and rattled down her throat, burning her fragile lungs can still be felt when recalled. The harsh suffocating gasps as air, just barely escaping her, follow, taking her breath away even nineteen years later. If it hadn’t been for the kind soul pulling her aggressor off of her, Eveleen doubted she would have ever survived the incident.

She then told her that she had visitors, and her aunt and uncle came through the door. They interrupted her thoughts, because their faces were red, most likely from crying. They brought her flowers, and set them next to her bed. None of them knew what was going to happen next.