Crisp Wind Narrative

Sasha pulled her yellow Corvette into the Sunset Mall parking lot and chose one of the many spots near the Red Lobster restaurant. As she flung open her door and stepped into the hot, tropical air, she adjusted her black skirt and then slammed the door, chirping the car alarm to secure her prized vehicle: Cameron. Naming her Corvette was just one of the quirky things Sasha did. She took out her iPhone 6s and checked the time, and triple checked to see if Leon had called or texted. Somewhat disappointed at the fact that she had arrived before Leon, she decided that if she had to wait, she’d get out of the heat, and into the restaurant lobby. Within two steps, she felt a gooey adhesion under her right foot. Pulling her foot upward, a sticky, rubbery mess of what smelled like grape chewing gum stretched a disgusting stringy strand from the hot tar to the sole of her sandal. “Eeew, why did I agree to meet Leon at such a classless mall-restaurant,” she chided herself aloud, though no one was there to hear.

She had a small, black Focus: great for gas mileage, bad for space. The backseat was a fusion of duffle bags, grocery bags, and ugly gray upholstery, but the mountain blended in with Heather’s already messy car. Digging through the sea of shoes, clothes, and snacks, Heather adamantly felt around for her phone that she mistakenly piled some 12-pack of pop or the first of her makeups bags onto. Once retrieved, she fumbled through songs on her iPhone before she grew impatient and gave the horn a gentle nudge to alert Maddie that she was still outside. This was met by some other student yelling “fuck you” out the window, as if any college student was asleep at 1 a.m on a Friday night.

Though many beg her to come with them, to come out of the cold, she stands there in her spot. Unmoving, unspeaking. Sitting and waiting for the signal to come.

In the adventure of the story Where The Wind Leads, it describes how the Chung family travels many miles in sea to find the freedom they have lost within their own country and enduring many sacrifices, where they suffered and had to leave behind, for the sake of a better future. Their home country is on the eastern hemisphere, known now as the whole country of Vietnam. The family faced many generations of conflicts within the country. Such as, when the French colonized it, and later kicked out by the Japanese later throughout the history, and then it was divided into two countries the north and south Vietnam. Where ultimately it was united back into one whole country, ruled by a terrible government known today “The Communist Party”. A

Most of the time, my hometown of Wind Gap is very calm, with few major problems. My house is set back in the woods a few miles out of town. Our road back to our house actually is an old railroad bed so it isn’t paved and does have potholes, but my dad actually goes through and fills the potholes to take care of the road; he buys the stones and he uses his tractor to do it, which I help him with. The township doesn’t take care of it because it is a privately owned road, and different people own the property on the sides of the road. One man who owns a large chunk of the woods on the side of the road decided to do some logging a few weeks ago. He had a lot of machines and tractor trailers back on our road to cut down and transport the logs. Well, as they worked we could see the road was getting worse and worse because the machines were tearing up the road and there was all sorts of wood all over the road. Our neighbors and we were not very happy!

As I walked through the crowded hallway, lockers were forgettable objects in my peripheral vision; and the smell of newly painted walls was uncomfortable. People hurried to class like bees to their nest. “My bad,” some of them said after clashing with my shoulder in their haste. Looking back to that memory, I realize how everything had felt exhilarating and the extraordinary possibilities had been similar to an adrenaline rush.

(setting: Lincoln Center Plaza, New York, NY , Long island ,New york , Brooklyn new york )

Three hours later and I’m finally home from school. After getting off the bus I dodge the rain drops that feel like bullets digging into my skin. It’s raining so hard, I feel like I’m stuck in a thunderstorm but I make it into the garage in time, thank god. It’s been a long day and now my mascara is running down my face from the rain… I grab my headphones from my bag and plug them into my ears letting all the bad vibes flow out of my ears like water rushing from Niagara Falls. As I zone out, I notice my phone buzzing.

Tears spiraled down Bridget's rosy checks and plopped onto her keyboard. Her eyes were swollen and red from hours of crying. She dragged her fingers across her keyboard, in search for something to distract her from the pain. The satisfaction of swiping her credit card was all too familiar and she did it with such ease, as if the numbers on the screen were insignificant. She wiped away her tears as she added the scarfs, shoes, and sweaters to her already filled shopping cart. There was something about the clothes being new, that Bridget loved. The way her friends complimented her, the envious looks girls gave her in the hallway, and the likes on her Instagram photos that made her feel like she was loved. Although Bridget already

My bag, shoes, and graded essay from my morning class were scattered by the door. Like breadcrumbs, they lead to me collapsed on my bottom bunk, watching my roommates turquoise clock slowly tick by. Somewhere in me I had already known. Maybe, that's why I didn't cry. The last time I had visited him over a month ago, for spring break, I could

It was a cool October morning as me and a few of my friends I hired to be assistants for the day loaded up months of tireless work into a few cars. It is surprising when you look at it all packed up, what feels like tons of sleepless nights and hundreds of dollars in cloth all fit into two four door sedans. We headed off on our long journey from Riverside to Costa Mesa California. When we arrived I had to find my way through a maze of people busy setting up stages and what not tell I finally found the owner of the venue so I could ask where I could start the long tedious task of prepping clothing and models. We unloaded everything and got to work

"How can you believe that?! She is psychotic if she believes she from another world!”

Gone with the Wind opens with beautiful shots of the Georgian countryside, accompanied by sweeping romantic music and the sentiment rolling down the screen: “There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South. Here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow. Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave. Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered, a Civilization gone with the wind” (Selznick) The film explicitly describes its objectives before the audience even sees the famous Scarlett O’Hara. Nostalgia for this old Southern way of life is palpable throughout the entirety of the film and we see an alternate world portraying benevolent white slaveholders, their complacent, jolly slaves, and the noble Cause of the confederacy they tirelessly fought for. However, when viewed in the modern context, this illusion of the South is easily broken and the historical inaccuracies become evident underneath the appearance of Southern romanticism. Though Gone with the Wind romanticizes slavery and the Old South and glosses over racial issues, it represents an important part of American history in its portrayal of white southern attitudes during the civil war.

“Where the fuck did I put it?” Tyler mumbled while rummaging through his desk. He thumbed through neat stacks of manila folders and documents only to toss them aside in frustration when they weren’t what he was looking for. The rejects of his search laid scattered about his office floor. Everything seemed to be out of place. The sofa, chairs, and his liquor table were unaligned and no longer parallel to the walls they were carefully placed in

After turning the alarm off, Keith held open the door to the left that led to the wide-open gym and then the four of us made our way to the youth room, again to our left. The camp-style lights came on, revealing that the youth room was a disarray of chairs, sports supplies, and, on the “stage”, various cords and other audio equipment. Beside the stage was the door I had knocked. The room smelled faintly like new carpet; it clearly had been renovated recently. The white walls were decorated with strange pattern of navy blue, lime green, and golden-yellow paint streaks, but the mixture of colors gave the room a welcoming vibe, very pleasant for my first practice. Then, Karli got out her half-size keyboard and Keith his laptop, his even smaller keyboard, and what appeared to be a drum synthesizer. Meanwhile, Jenna hooked up the vocal system up to the audio mixer beside Keith. While they set up their equipment, I set down my equipment beside a dusty, full-sized keyboard. In a search for an outlet to plug my amp into, my eyes darted around the room for a few moments, which thankfully led Keith to reveal a compartment in the floor that housed a set of outlets.