Death And Death - Original Writing

So now I deserve to hear your story.” “Okay,” he said, “I just turned “24” three weeks ago.” “Cool,” she interrupted, “go on.” “I found out i got this job last week and was told to come into work today, that I already would know what to do, but I have no idea what I’m doing this job was a favor from my old boss. He was with me when I lost this bad boy.” He was showing his prosthetic leg, and said, “I lost it in an accident.” “Oh really must have been an accident then to have lost your leg.” She said with a face that seemed slightly weirded out. He told her the story about how he lost it trying to keep the truck from rolling off the hill and how the electric co-op paid his bills and him the rest of his salary for the year then gave him the job he currently has now, and her response was. “Wow you are kind-of amazing, but you never told me how you actually came to work for the co-op in the first place.” Then he said, “well to be honest I guess it is because I really liked electrical classes in school.” he was interrupted by the waiter bringing their

There was a soft knock at the door. “Guys...I’m sorry I took so long in the bathroom, but I’m ready to leave now.” Dulce slowly pulled the door open and stood there, like a child who had just received a scolding. She couldn’t help but to smell the vomit that Nick carelessly spewed out of Dulce’s window. “Did...did one of you guys

The music blared so loud through the speakers at the bar and grill MacGowan's Haven, that Alannah Chambers worked at that she had to shout in order for her customers to hear her. "What would you like sir?" She yelled at the middle aged man on the other side of the counter. He was a heavy set man with thinning salt and pepper colored hair and thick glasses, he wore faded blue jeans and a blue shirt that looked like it seen better days. Lots of them. He had a mustard stain on his shirt too that he hadn't bothered to wipe up. "Uh, I'll take a beer and a piece of that ass babe," he said, and grinned wickedly at her. If it had been a few years sooner, Alannah would have ignored him, but not this time, she was done with little-miss-shy-girl that

Is there any coffee left?” Ernest asked, holding up his cup. “Sure,” Don said and filled it. “I don’t know if you knew it, but once Butch healed, he was the sweetest dog, I have ever seen. He lived in our home for years until we gave him to my nephew for his son.” Ernest smiled and said, “I never knew that. It was funny at the time you scared the hell out of me when you told me you gave no one discounts. If anybody asked for one that you charged them double.” “I remember the expression on your face was priceless.” “It surprised me when you told me, your name was Don and to never call you doctor again.” Ernest said, "It sure didn’t take you long to decide you wanted the sick animals, and I could have the healthy ones until we found homes for them. Was that your original plan?” “Oh, no, when I saw you with the injured dog, I knew at once, we could work together, and the stories around town about you were bullshit,” he said, as the phone rang. “Dr. Kelley, my I help you,” answering the phone, he said. “What’s wrong with Fluffy today?” “Sure, I’ll come by after work. It will not be necessary to bring Fluffy to the

It took very little time to fill one of the tubs with water from the tank. It was late in the evening and the firebox had not been tended by the girl who was supposed to see to that so it had gone out. The water in the cistern was still plenty hot enough though. Ben stopped Jeb from filling the second tub, “I think one is good enough don’t you.” Jeb smiled at the statement. Ben got into the tub first and faced in the correct direction, his large cock already hard and sticking up out of water. Jeb knew exactly what it was that he had in

Mrs. Cade was waiting on the porch for Johnny. “Stupid hoodlum out late again.” She thought to herself. She took another drink from her whiskey bottle and stared at Johnny. “Where you been boy?” She asked drunkenly. I sighed at looked at her. “At the movies mother.” I mumbled twiddling with my fingers. Mrs. Cade grabbed a broom and hit him on top of the head with it. “Get in the house and straight to your room.”

Salvia drizzled from Philip’s mouth, which coated his cockshaft. Principal Reardon was ready as he sported an enormous erections. Philip grunted a thrust which logged his cock deep into Riccio’s asshole. Reardon saw his cock disappear within the muscular depth of Riccio’s buttocks.

“I’m getting a smell."Holmes said,sniffing the air. The smell lead him all the way to Cecil’s cage. He inspected Cecil’s cage. ``I’m smelling traces of mud!"Holmes informed, ``and it coming from that pile of rocks!"

“Yeah, but I haven’t been in for some time. The name is Ernest Cassidy, wiping his hand across his mouth, he sat at the bar. “Give me a scotch on the rocks.” After finishing the first drink, he ordered another one and ended up ordering several more. While sipping his drink, he chatted with Ginger about the love of his life and happier times.

We all struggle with our own immortality, many authors use death to declare their thoughts and beliefs on what it feels like, and what happens during the process of death. Stories such as Dorothy Richardson’s “Death” and Katherine Anne Porter’s “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall”, use a stream of conscious narration to get across to the reader that death is different and one in the same for everyone. Richardson and Porter use the stream of consciousness to add depth to their characters, and to tell the story of their characters experiences before dying and their thoughts of their life. Answers.com tells us that the stream of consciousness is a “literary technique that presents the thoughts and feelings of a character as they occur”.

Causally she strolled around the truck, coming to stop near the tailgate. In the same causal nature she unhinged the gate and swung open a hidden cache connected to the bumper, a fine piece of work a friend fixed her up with. It was small, but big enough to fit the necessary tools of the trade. She didn't need much tonight, just old Bertha and her Bowie knife should do. She whistled idly as the knife was slid into the back of her gray jeans, nestled and hidden at the small of her back. Bertha wasn't so easy to conceal, those her loose green jacket helped enough. Most people wouldn't be look for that anyway, not when Nia walked in the room. Standing five foot nine inches tall, Nia had an athletic, toned body of someone in constant movement. Her muscles were lean and compact, that much was evident from her bared mid-drift, the muscle definition near perfect. The rest of her wasn't too shabby either, she had a pretty face, with short platinum hair and large copper brown eyes. She had that rough and tumble look to her, little makeup and a lot of attitude. Her skin was naturally tanned, a soft mocha hue that was a stark contrast to her hair. With each step those rather ample breasts jiggled in their tight confines of the white tanktop. Despite the lifestyle Nia was pretty well stacked. Sleek hips held a slight sway to them as she walked,

On Death and Dying By Elisabeth Kubler-Ross For my book review, I read On Death and Dying, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. Dr. Kubler-Ross was the first person in her field to discuss the topic of death. Before 1969, death was considered a taboo. On Death and Dying is one of the most important psychological studies of the late twentieth century. The work grew out of her famous interdisciplinary seminar on death, life, and transition. In this paper, I give a comprehensive book review as well as integrate topics learned in class with Dr. Kubler-Ross' work. Like Piaget's look at developmental stages in children, there are also stages a person experiences on the journey toward death. These five stages are denial/isolation, anger, bargaining,

There was a damp smell in the room, and a few puddles on the floor. More curious than concerned, Andy looked around for clues. He felt the wrist and ankle straps relax their grip.

Beneath the orange glow of the street lamp, danny saw an open drain in the ground. Without thinking he darted toward's the opening and lowered himself into the sewer below. Holding his breathe he hide their like a shadow hopping the boy would quickly.

Aaron’s giggle drifted to her as she counted out the cadence. She projected her voice, “Forty-six, Mister Potato Head,” and heard the chain rattle. The tire swing, he’s going to hide behind the oak. Gabriel had hung the swing when they first married. In those days, he would push her high. She’d throw out her legs and pump as hard as she could, skirts dragging in the dirt, and lean her head back, laughing, looking at him upside down. The chain was rusty now. Still it was tough enough for one little boy. “Forty-nine, Mister Potato Head.”