Elisabeth Godwin tossed and turned, as she laid in bed on Tuesday night. The rushing sound of free falling rain drifted into her sleep. It's those same dreams that have kept her up, in the dead of the night, over the last several months. Haunting her. Beckoning her to cross over to the other side. It was as if, satan himself, knew the calling God had placed upon her. He sought with all his strength to convert her before she accepted Christ.
There have been many times, over the years, when Elisabeth felt she was no ordinary girl. A still small voice whispered into her heart, God has called you for a greater purpose. She spent years following the churches prayer of salvation. In her heart, Elisabeth knew if she wanted to enter through the gates
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Immediately following, a violent rattling came. Fear would not elude her. The bed began to shake, but she could not tear eyes away from the creature she caught a glimpse from. Elisabeth stared down by her feet at the white footboard. Deliberately rising, it swayed back and forth in the motion. From the abyss underneath her bed, a golden striped and brown demon rose. Flickering its tongue in and out, the form of a rattlesnake hovered ready to attack. He swayed to and fro – hissing as his tongue popped in and out. Flickering it up and down. Gasping she opened her mouth and tried to scream. Silence. She covered her mouth when her scream fell silent. She laid frozen in fear, as she could only watch when his head rose higher to hover above her. The giant snake was the largest she had ever seen before. His head was the width of her bedroom door and his length must have been 30 feet she thought. This was the end, she thought. The end of her would come by the teeth of a giant …show more content…
Smiling, she enjoyed the ride from the grocery store. Excitement building at the thought of the camp-out. They headed toward the church for a 'Royal Scouts' camp-out, when Elisabeth felt the car slow to a stop. Looking to her mother she asked; 'What's wrong mommy? Why are we stopping?' 'Someone's car broken down, honey. So we're just slowing down so people can go around them.' She looked out her window at the little white car stopped on the two-lane bridge. With just barely passing the room, she watched as people moved their cars to the right side of the lane. From somewhere behind their car, the sound of a freight train came squealing to a halt. With a burning smell of rubber, piercing her nostrils, a logging truck whizzed past her window. It happened so fast. When the truck came barreling down the road, it fish-tailed into the back end of Elizabeth's little white car. Shattering her window, Elisabeth as pieces of glass floated through the air and the car turned toward the ledge of the tiny bridge. The ringing sound of her mother's screams rang deep within her ears, as the water on her right slowly came into view. Jerking the steering wheel with all her might, her mother screamed as she desperately attempted to turn it away from the ledge. No matter how hard she tried, the wheel would not move in any direction. It was locked. Her mother threw her hands in the air while
They took a sharp turn over a some railroad tracks and the back door flew open. Jeannette rolled out of the car, she rolled many yards on the embankment. When she came to a stop, she was too shocked to cry and she all bloody and scraped up. She called herself a burden, and said they could do fine without her. When her family turned around and came screeching to a halt, her dad got out of the car, knelt down, and tried to give Jeannette
So naturally, nine years old Geneva cried. I know, how pathetic, how pitiful. All I knew was that I wasn’t near my home, and I wasn’t supposed to bike this far. I felt bad for my other friends who were okay with biking this far as they saw the tears streaming down my face. I sat upon the ground stubbornly, refusing to get up from my crouched position. The kids with us argued about what to do. They couldn’t just go back, or let me go
September 9, 2015, a baby is born. With black hair, brown eyes, and the face of an angle, she was wrapped in a two blankets and pajamas. The name on the certificate, Elizabeth, and she is born 5 inches tall, weighs 6 ounces, and has a perfectly round head, she looks like a turtle as she stretches her neck. We call her our little lizard, but to be honest she looks more like turtle than a lizard any day. The hospital I go to, to see little lizard, smells like soap and hand sanitizer, it brings back memories of a moment in time 2 years ago when I walked down the same hospital corridors to see my area 51 baby, Evelynne. As I walk down the same hallway to the same room where I first saw my Evelynne I am reminded of a responsibility, a responsibility
The temperature was falling fast. It’s windy. There was snow in the rain that was splatting against the windows of the houses. The roads were as empty as those on Sunday mornings. Jacquen was going home in a car along with his parents. his father was driving the car very recklessly for the weather was getting worse and he had to catch a flight to Los Angeles the next morning. suddenly his father saw a wagon approaching them like a monstrous beast . His father slammed on the brake to avoid crashing into the wagon but the road was slippery. a sudden panic rushed into the car. they were blinded by the headlight from the wagon and the car continued to slip and finally barged into the
She hurried away from the window, fearful that the thing would look up and see her watching. She scurried into the closet and closed her eyes, praying that it wouldn’t get inside. The girl heard feet hit the floor near the window and knew it had entered her tower. She peeked out through the slats in the closet door and gasped at what she saw.
One day, Annabel walked to a creepy monster statue she had made, and the creepy monster came to life, but Annabel didn’t see because she turned her back before the statue moved. Then she heard a big roar! She
In a world usually depicted as a “man’s world,” a woman’s role is not considered as significant and thus can be repressed. It is why a feminist perspective or criticism comes into place, especially in literature. By definition, a feminist criticism consist of scrutinizing “the ways in which literature reinforces the economic, political, social, and psychological oppression of women.” (Tyson) In Gail Godwins’s A Sorrowful Woman, the leading female character is concentrated in her efforts in distancing from her structured lifestyle. A feminist would critic Godwins story by as the female character is in pursuit of peace and happiness and wants to escape from the role she has been implanted. The critic would concentrate on the experience woman
Lauren pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal. The tires whined and spun, but the SUV sank further into the snow packed ditch. Perspiration slid down her back. She could die out here, buried in a mountain of snow. Her family may never find her. It wasn’t fair.
The Lady showed us all sorts of stuff like, the Oval Office, and of course the huge olympic size swimming pool, but all I could think about was that big red button. My whole life I grew up touching almost everything that looked interesting. It soon became a habit, a very bad one. I had to touch that button.
It hunches over standing at least ten feet tall and as silence spreads itself across the opening in the forest, I see my only shot. Realizing that I have to kill it before it kills me, I dive out from the vines with a stone in my hand, ready to smash the figure I had seen, but it disappeared. Standing in an open space in the middle of the forest, I move my head frantically in all directions. Hissss. The hairs on my neck shoot up and shivers run down my spine as the noise flows through one ear and out the other. The sound shakes my body and I start to tremble with fear as the forest floor darkens behind me. I feel a large shadowy figure staring at me. As it shifts its body, the branches that have dropped from the canopy are crushed by its massive presence. Hiss- I whip around and instinctively launch the rock in the general direction of the nose. Locking eyes with the giant serpent now bellowing over me, the rock humorously bounces off of its metallic-like scales. “Crap.”
The volatile odor of coolant and gasoline struck my nose as I took in the chaos around me; a metallic film filled the air. Metal groaned as the car settled into its mangled state. While my parents raced over to the vehicle, I stepped out of the backseat, my seven-year-old body trembling. My mother yelled over her shoulder, “Kaydie! Come here right now!” I ran over as she pulled open the back door, revealing a sobbing 4-year-old girl. “Kaydie, this girl needs you and we need to help her parents. Can you sit with her?” Heart pounding, I crawled into the seat next to the girl. She looked at me with terrified eyes. “Where is my mommy and daddy?” I held her hand and reassured her that my parents were with hers. We sat, hand in hand, as I told her a story of a little girl riding a unicorn while I observed my parents helping hers.
I popped up from my seat to look out the window, to see all the cars surrounding us at all angles. Blowing their horns, creating a chorus of sound. Some lackluster, like our minivan, so plain compared to the bright yellow taxis that swarmed the street. I was so excited to have seen a taxi, it was something I had been looking forward to. “Look mom a taxi!” I exclaimed. “That’s nice honey,” she replied unenthusiastically, looking down at her map. “Take a left up here.” She said to my dad, driving the car. “Are we almost there?” My sister, Molly, piped up, sensing my excitement. My dad just sighed and ignored her.
“Time` is running out,” she whispered under her breath. She gathered all the strength inside of her that’s left. Water pounded on her face angrily, and the thunder boomed with intention of being heard. She’s barely inching forward. She’s knows she is not going to make it. Her only option is to find a place for her new born baby to live. Even though he is 3 weeks old she knows he can survive. He has to! Minutes away from death she has to act quickly. She steadily makes her way to a nearby dumpster and makes him a bed out of anything her tiny hands can find. Carefully she lowers her only child into the old, rusted, stinky dumpster. Then she collapsed onto the floor and laid there breathless.
Turning on the engine, Marlene drove down the street, before she realized it she down her mother’s street. Parking in the driveway, she hesitated to get out of the car and listened to the radio. Weeping as the announcer spoke of the murder of Katherine Lincoln, which recently had dominated the news. Turning off the radio, she went up the steps as she had done many times. However, tonight was different her broken heart sought solace in her mother’s surroundings. She longed to touch anything belonging to her mother.
Now, Leah stands in the doorway to the living room at 12 years old, her grandpa is dead and it feels like five summers ago. She is falling through the water in slow motion, dark dark water. She still feels underwater when her dad comes over to her and places a hand on her shoulder and asks, “hey, how are you feeling?” She doesn’t know why she is so shocked, it had been a long time coming. Her grandpa had had cancer for months and months now. Had she really thought her grandpa was invincible? That this wouldn’t affect him like it affected many others? She still hasn’t responded, her dad clears his throat, looks down, and walks away. The world turns.