And For An Everlasting Roof The Gambrels The Sky

I was surrounded by the sound of graphite moving anxiously over paper. The clamor filled my ears and collided with the dull ticking of the clock that hung over the SAT proctor’s disorderly, graying hair. There were only eighteen minutes left and I still had not written a single word. The prompt reverberated in my head like a ringing bell, but I could not form cohesive thoughts. My heart raced and my fingernails dug into the curve of my palm in panic, leaving small, pallid impressions in their wake. Pleading with myself, I considered the page that lay askew on the on the chipped desk in front of me. I wrote a desperate and painfully arbitrary sentence that I quickly erased. Nothing sounded right. I had studied and prepared for this moment with

Bahauddin grabbed for a place to rest his hand while he lifted his feet, climbing through the shaft, out of the caverns. Every crack of stone was filled with overgrown moss, As he rose, he could see the sky was just before nightfall. The only sound around was the howl of the wind, and the keys clanging against each other like a windchime during a breezy spring afternoon. Ascending up the shaft, he was cautiously concentrating for each and every placement of his hands and feet, careful not to slip. Bahauddin’s hand grasped the top of the shaft. The sky was painted with brush strokes of blood orange, reflecting a glare off the keys. Outside, it had looked like a warzone. No buildings fully structured, not a person in sight, just crumbs

The text is very rich with description. The author makes it easy to imagine the beauty of the Rainbow fish even without the illustrations. He uses adjectives like “dazzling, shimmering, and sparkling” as he describes what all the other fish see as they admire the beautiful fish swimming past them. He describes the fish as “silent and proud.” Most people can relate to a situation in their own lives where they might have encountered a person like the Rainbow Fish. As the reader reads the text of the story, they will most likely find it easy to relate to the feelings of the little blue fish. They might also find themselves rooting for the Rainbow Fish and wanting him to figure out how to solve his dilemma so that he can make some friends and finally find happiness.

The poem, “The Fish”, starts with the narrator fishing in her “little rented boat”, and catching a “tremendous” fish. The narrator right of the bat realizes that this fish she caught is really different from what she is used to. Unlike most fish, this fish “didn’t fight”, which led her to further study the fish in greater detail describing him as “battered and venerable”. After examining him thoroughly and finding “five old pieces of fish-line”, she understands that this fish is older, and has definitely survived many difficult ordeals in his lifetime. This conclusion allows her to build respect and empathy towards the fish. The new found feelings towards the fish , along “the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow”, caused her to have

In literature, descriptive writing is a useful technique, especially since it allows an author to describe how he or she truly feels about a particular subject matter. Descriptive writings bring literary works to life; it is vivid, especially since the readers are able to visualize specific information in their

pointing arrows pointing outward. Right down the center of the backpack there is a aluminum

The chief offered his hand and escorted Dana to the next area. A force field dropped and lights popped on ahead of them, leading down a circular corridor, Dana recognized the place. They were in the old mines. Now, these mines were transformed into sheen tunnels, led to rooms with protected secrets for the future. Her heart pounded faster with excitement plumbing through her veins.

Poems and short stories are pieces of literature that have been around for millions of years, both producing major talented writers, and also some famous authors a well. Short stories and poems are vastly different but share some common traits and ability’s to gain a reader’s attention and embrace their attention until the point of the story is made and completed. When comparing the two different types of literature style, form, and content all come into play in having similarities and differences in the text. Poems typically are short and direct to the point, tending to have a rhythm of words, whereas short stories usually are direct based text

Sunlight is beaming through the window as the alarm clock beeps louder and louder. The first day jitters have begun. Just a little over two months ago, fourth grade came to an end for Emily and summer vacation began. But, where did the summer go? Long days spent at the beach buried in the sand; seem like a distant memory. Fifth grade has become the reality and being a middle school student is still sinking in.

Droplets of sweat poured down my face while the beating sun blocks my view of the 8 lane track. The brush of skin touched me and my arm hair stood up. The bleachers were swarms of silence. My spikes towed the white line. I closed my eyes and the gun went off.

The paper will consider the similarities and differences among the literary forms of drama, poetry, and the short story. Certainly, an obvious similarity is that they are all forms of literature and as such have the great potential to affect people's hearts, minds, and experiences. Literature, when executive well, has the potential to change a person's perspective, inspire, or otherwise change who that person is and how that person thinks. This is a similarity that each one of these literary forms has in common off the bat.

Through someone’s aspect, it could be considered as the most efficient communicating tool of human being. On the other hand, some people may treat it as an irreplaceable expression of their emotion. Objectively speaking, “words” could definitely be concluded in both ways above, but in my opinion, using words is a privilege and honor. I use words to gain knowledge and words give me all kinds of possibilities of understanding new stuff when I intend to enhance my personal abilities.

Nostalgie. Forward then back and out, the sound travels across my tongue. Reminiscent of times past, it rolls and flows breathlessly, effortlessly. I am mesmerized. The French tongue captivates my interest, resonates with my being—my favorite word in this beautiful language.

One afternoon, I came home, got myself a snack and went to my room. As I entered my room, I noticed Paolo’s bedroom blinds were open. In all the years that have passed by, not once had I ever noticed his blinds open, so in curiosity, I looked in. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of my room, I caught glimpses of movements in the shadows on his bed, until it hit me that he was sliding his hand up and down his cock. He was really taking his time, absorbed in his self-pleasure.

Everyone I met melted in the palm of my hand. They all loved me. Now, I strike fear into the hearts of all men. It all started when I was nine, on a hot, humid afternoon. All because of innocent, little Elizabeth.